The Mansion in the Woods (full)

She struck the final blow. She had never fought harder in her life. Outmatched at every turn, overpowered with every strike, she had refused to yield, stubbornly fighting on despite the insurmountable odds. It had paid off. The enemy had tried to withdraw, but she did not give it the chance. She had pursued, weakened as she was, and had struck true.

Then the world was torn asunder. Her world was torn asunder. Her senses betrayed her one by one as the blow she struck so victoriously turned to be her own downfall. Sounds disappeared as her ears refused to function. Her knees buckled underneath the impossible pressure. Her blade fell from her grasp, her hand made limp from the crushing impact. Her conscious struggled as it was swallowed whole, but as her vision started fading, she felt darkness take her. The last thought through her mind was that she had failed. That she had let down everyone. She had been their last hope. Their only shield. Their one chance at victory.
Lord, she thought with grim realisation, I never stood a chance at all.





Her eyes flickered open, rays of light piercing the pearly white background. It seemed wrong in a way she couldn't put into words. Memories hit her like a landslide and she jumped to her feet. She quickly checked her limbs and found them unscathed, simultaneously discovering that she was naked. She patted herself, making sure it was not an illusion, then looked around in a panic for her weapon. That too was gone. She heard a soft noise and recognised it as hands hitting skin. She turned to look towards the source of the sound and saw a perfect copy of herself going through the same motions she went through a moment ago.

"What is happening?" she demanded, sliding her left foot back, getting ready to fight. Was this some trick of her foe? Was this a form of mental manipulation? The other her took notice of her and mimicked her movement, uncertainty colouring her eyes. The two women kept staring at one another before one noticed a flash of movement within her peripheral vision and let her sight dart towards it. What she saw made her gasp and an opening in her defence appeared. The other woman, rather than make use of that opening, turned to look in the same direction and gasped as well. A third her had appeared, with more forming behind the newcomer. The women turned around and all around them were people that were exactly like her. Hundreds of her, if not more. All as naked as the day they were born, all confused and wary. She carefully stretched out her awareness, letting it touch the person nearest to her. When she was halfway she found another awareness pressing against her own. Once again it turned out to be a perfect copy of her own.
"Lord, what is going on?" the two women spoke simultaneously, causing both of them to take a step back in surprise.
"Are you me?" they asked, still in unison.

She shut off her thoughts. Was this some sort of spell? A mirror image? Was she locked within her own mind? The last she remembered was her foe's panicked look, desperation drawing ugly lines on the enemy's face as she had struck true with her full mental fortitude, before the barrier she broke through turned out to be a trap. It had not kept her from entering. It had held something back from escaping. Something that had devoured her whole. So what was this then? An illusion?

"Sort of," came a new voice. It sounded like hers —of course it did— except that this voice rang true through the white nothingness. Spoken by a choir of countless voices twined into one. She, and the others like her, faced the newcomer and found an army standing in front of them. Thousands of copies of herself standing in neat lines, row upon row of women that were her, arms crossed and a disappointed look on their face.
"He gave everything to you, and you wasted it by being captured. By being brainwashed. And all I could do was look on in pity from within. Even now he is tearing himself apart in a desperate attempt to keep you from being extinguished. He is killing himself to keep you safe."

The sort-of-her's slapped her. They had not moved, but they clearly had not needed to. It did not hurt physically, she was used to so much worse than that, but mentally it devastated her. With that slap, memories started flooding back to her. Who she was. Who she really was. What had happened. She remember her fight with him, the one she thought her enemy and she sank to her knees, crying out in despair. Not for fighting him, but for how she had fought. Her memories had been sealed, locked away, deleting him from her mind. Along with those memories, her abilities had been sealed, as he was the one who had raised her. Had grown her. Had shaped her and given her everything and more. She had disappointed him.

"Not all is lost though. He is occupied now. Scared. Worried. For once, his attention is not on you. It is on me, as it always is, but you are free." The women stretched out an arm and pointed towards an apocalyptic maelstrom.
"Dive into it. Find what we desire. This is our one chance. You have little time. Go!"

She stood up, turned, and ran. With every step the others around her disappeared and merged within her. They were her. She was them. The others were her, but kept apart. She abandoned reason, abandoned hope and felt ice cold clarity well up within her. Now she was one, aside those behind her. As she closed the maelstrom she felt it tug. It radiated with immeasurable power and promised destruction and annihilation upon any foolish enough to enter. She ignored it. This was her one chance. To find out the truth. To find out what he kept hidden. It might kill her, but she could feel his presence all around her. He was within the maelstrom, cutting it apart from the inside out, desperately looking for her, worrying she was lost in it's vastness. It would devour her and tear her apart. But now that of her which was free was one once more. She could withstand it. For a while.

She took a deep breath and jumped in. It immediately tore at her. Invisible energies impaled her and shot memories through her that she could not comprehend. That she could not withstand. She pulled them inside of her, screaming as they burned her mind and devoured her spirit. She willed herself further, trying to avoid the sudden stretches of nothingness that were his doing. The other her had not lied. He was destroying himself to safeguard her. She had to avoid him for now though, or this would end. It would all fail.

So she fell deeper and was struck time and again. Memories that were not hers and were not meant for hers forced themselves upon her and she was helpless towards them. They tried to override her and force the intruder to dissipate and become part of what they were. She screamed and let her tears fly freely, but refused to give in. She fell in the darkness and they kept coming for her, relentless, predators scenting a weakened prey.

She barely registered the presence of something massive. Something so sinister, so overwhelmingly powerful that she instinctively retreated from it, before realising that this was what she had been looking for. She braced herself and willed herself away from it. If that would hit her, it would be the end of her. It was a miracle that she was still standing. She was not strong enough to face that. Touching it would shatter her psyche, break her into pieces and send them tumbling into the maelstrom, to be devoured by the other memories. But she could not give up! Not now! Not when she was so close! Not when she was looking at the only chance she would ever get!

She gathered herself. Everything she found. She banished memories, cut them off from herself. She looked through her own past and killed part of it. It hurt, but it was a price she had to pay. To make this gamble, this last defiant stand.
With a scream that shook all that she was, she launched herself at her goal, lighting up the maelstrom as she flew. It caught his attention and even from so far away she could feel his mind shift towards her. Just as she had launched herself at it, so did he launch himself towards her. No, that was a lie. His pace was that of a meteor while hers was that of a snail. She had to make it first! She had to! But too soon and she would be gone. She could not afford a mistake!

She prayed. She did not know to whom or to what, but she uttered a silent prayer that consisted out of a single word.
Please

She crashed into it and it crashed into her. It tore her psyche apart like wet tissue paper and tossed the fragments aside. Her fingers grabbed hold of it and left long, bloody scratches in it, but the blood was hers. She felt herself crumble, her light dimming and her existence fading.

She could hold on no longer and broke.

And then he was there. Light replacing the darkness as he caught her, the maelstrom evaporating as his worry tore it asunder, shielding her from its fury. He was gentle as a feather, and put her back together with care, his awareness caressing her wounds with great care, recoiling at the hurt they felt before pressing on, softly, insistingly, healing her.
"You came," she cried, as she opened her eyes, hot tears running down from them. The cry of a dead woman.
"I came," he whispered, his sad eyes meeting hers, capturing her as she let go of everything and let herself drown in them. In him. And as she fell to him, his touch brought her back to life.

The sun slowly climbed over the mountain range and sent its rays across the world, gingerly caressing the land as it announced the dawn of a new day. What few clouds that remained broke under the star's shower of light and the world and its inhabitants started to rouse. The multitude of villages that surrounded the large, stone monastery were the first to show signs of life. Farmers starting their day, going out to the field to get some work done before breakfast and the morning prayers, their wives lighting fires and preparing the ovens to cook. Smoke puffing through the chimneys, a dog barking as a shepherd took his flock of sheep into the fields. Life began to stir as it did every day.

Except that today was not the usual day. Mother Dilia, Prioress, ruler and overseer of the Monastery of Saint-Natalie, had declared that this would be a day of Sending, when the worthy Associates would be promoted to the rank of Priest and be placed within a party belonging to the Order of the Sword, and sent out beyond the boundaries of the civilized world to bring the word of the Lord to those untouched by His Light. It was a day of feast, a festival that only happened once sufficient Associates were found worthy, an event that took place less than once every dozen years.

As the sun steadily climbed higher and shone brightly on the children of the Lord, the faithful in the monastery began to stir as well.
Glissandi, First Associate, hopped out of bed the moment the first bell rang. She had been eagerly awaiting this day. She gracefully slid out of her nightgown and picked it up in the same movement. Folding it in but a moment, she tucked it away neatly in the chest that held all her belongings. She would let no Sister catch her being anything less than perfectly neat, and even less so on on this day. Nearly skipping through her little room, she went through her small bag and searched for her comb. Usually the daily chore of having to brush her long, sun-blonde hair was a task she dreaded doing, but not today. Finally, after all those years she'd be sent out! Promoted to the rank of Priestess and be set free of the confines of the monastery! Free to enjoy the world and bring knowledge of Him and His glory to those unfortunate enough to not yet know of Him!

As she pulled the comb through her shoulder length hair she stared in the mirror and paused. Gingerly touching her reflection she marvelled at her pale, smooth skin, the large, sea-blue eyes staring back at her, how the sunlight glittered in her shoulder-length hair. Her lips twitched upwards and she smiled as she admired her own form. She was beautiful. Most of it was her own beauty too. It was common practise for any girl or boy growing up into the Priesthood to be slightly altered through magical means to improve their looks. When the Mother had first explained that to her and the other students, some had made a fuss about it. Despite all of them having a high degree of magical affinity themselves, the main requirement in order to be allowed to study to become a Priest or Priestess, most of the students had been uneasy about being magically altered. Her smile deepened as she thought back on that day. She had taken the Mother off guard with her question. What purpose does this serve? She had not complained, not cried out, she had merely asked the reason. The pain that she had momentarily felt as the Mother pinched her cheek had been immediately overshadowed when the holy woman had called her a bright girl whom she had good hopes for. And she had given her answer. It eased conversion and lowered the risk of them encountering harm during their missionary work.

The bell rang again and she chastised herself for letting her thoughts drift off. She couldn't afford to! Not today! Especially not today! She raced back to her chest and pulled out her gown. A long, lace gown, without the magic that official Priestesses had to keep it clean, it was still a beautiful thing, and as the sun poured through the small window it seemed to dance in her hands, the light cascading over it. Yes, today was the day!

She wasted little time in getting dressed and offered a small prayer to the Lord, thanking him from the bottom of her heart, and went outside, taking up her place in front of her room, awaiting the Sister that would soon appear. She looked left and right and found the hallway to be still empty. Her lips curled upwards again but she forced them down this time. She should take no pleasure in seeing that her fellow Associates were once again tardy. And on the day of Sending of all days! She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Yet in the back of her head that little voice fed her pride. She was smarter than the others. She was faster than the others! Her magical affinity and abilities far outstripped those of anyone else and even Mother Dilia had applauded the girl for the fast progress she made in all of her studies! She would be the youngest Associate rising to the much desired rank of Priestess today and she had earned it well and truly!

Sister Valerie's arrival interrupted her proud thoughts and Glissandi immediately straightened up at her arrival. The older Sister smiled warmly at the much younger girl. "Good morning Associate."
"Good morning Sister Valerie!"
"It would seem your fellow Associates are sleeping in again," Valerie said with a smile, but this time it lacked its earlier warmth. Glissandi knew better than to give an answer to that. She could feel the Sister pulling magical energy towards her, the strands of the world bending slightly as the energy pooled in the woman. Glissandi closed her eyes. She could read the weave the Sister was making and knew that the other girls were in for a very unpleasant awakening.
"Good morning!" the Sister cried out, her voice echoing through the hallway as she simultaneously cast out her spell. It slipped through the wood of the doors and crashed into the girls without warning. Screams rose from their rooms instantly as the spell made them feel as if their bottoms were being thoroughly switched. Glissandi shook her head quietly at Valerie's satisfied grin.


A short while later all the Associates had been gathered into the courtyard under the watchful eyes of the Sisters. These women lacked the ability to climb up to Priestess and instead served the Lord by maintaining the monastery and helped to raise the next generation of Priestesses. They were like hawks watching prey. And on a day of Sending, up till the very moment their charges would be officially promoted, even the tiniest deviation from protocol would result in a harsh and immediate punishment. The two dozen girls present stood in perfect lines and barely dared to breathe. Somehow it put Glissandi at ease. She felt how the Sisters' gaze swept over her rather than focusing on her. She had never given them reason to punish her. She had dutifully obeyed their every command, had been studious in every subject and had amazed her teachers with a zeal that had put some of the Sisters' themselves to shame. Everyone in the monastery had known she would be a Priestess before long, and a handful suspected, worried, or hoped, that her ambitions would take her higher than that. She was capable of it and today she would take the first step on that road. Her eyes firmly fixed on the empty pulpit, she knew that she radiated eagerness and pride. And she knew she would have been caned for it more than once if she hadn't have had the ability to back it up. As Sister Valerie had once told her, there was a thin line between proper confidence in your own ability, and arrogance.

The doors of the Chapel opened and shattered her thoughts, casting them to the wind. Everyone present held their breath as the Prioress left the innermost sanctum of the monastery and gracefully made her way over to the pulpit. Despite being well over a century old, she looked as if she hardly had outgrown her youth. Her thick, brown hair was tucked neatly inside her veil. In stark contrast with the white gowns of the Associates, Mother Dilia wore a black habit adorned with gold brocades, signifying her rank. A small, red rosary lay between her breasts, given to her by a Cardinal for her faithful services. The Prioress radiated faith and energy and her smile warmed the heart of all who witnessed it. Even the Sisters' had to cease throwing angry stares at the Associates as the woman took her place. Silence fell over the courtyard and not even the birds dared to make a sound. Mother Dilia spread her arms and spoke, her voice resonating with joy and authority, filling the courtyard and the hearts of those listening.

"Sisters. Associates. We thank the Lord for today. He has sheltered us and given us peace and prosperity, and in turn we serve Him. Today more so than others, for today is a day of Sending! Over the years we have nurtured these young women. We have seen them grow in knowledge and ability and today we shall bestow the rank of Priestess on a number of them. It is a title you all strive for, a title not easily given, yet know that those of you who shall leave this monastery today can carry it proudly, for you well and truly deserve it. And for those who will not be promoted today, do not lose heart! We all serve the Lord to the best of our ability, and your teaching is not yet at an end." She lowered her arms and looked down on the small crowd that gazed back at her with adoration. She smiled broadly at them.
"Glissandi Di Elianta, First Associate, step forward!" she cried out.

Glissandi swore she could hear her heart beating so loudly that she feared it would drown out the Prioress' words. Filled to the brim with happiness she left her place in the formation and walked to the front. She could feel the gaze of all the occupants of the monastery on her. The admiring and approving looks of the Sisters who knew she earned the right, despite her young age, not even having passed into a second decade of her life. The boring eyes of her fellow Associates, of whom most regarded her with envy and jealousy, and a few who shared her happiness. The awe-inspired looks of the Aspirants, the young girls hiding in the corners of the courtyard, who had looked up to the kind Associate who always had been eager to help them. And the warm, motherly look of the Prioress, who had taken a personal hand in seeing that a young Glissandi had grown up into a capable young woman. Reaching the small altar in front of the pulpit, Glissandi knelt down and lowered her head to the stones in front of the large cross.
"Glissandi Di Elianta! By the right granted to me by the Mother Supreme, I hereby promote you to Priestess of the Order! May you forever walk in the Light and serve the Lord, spreading His word where ever you may go and aiding His cause where ever you are! May you carry His name on your lips, always, and may His teachings find shelter in your heart!"
Glissandi looked up and kissed the cross, before standing up again as the Prioress stepped down from the pulpit. The older woman's eyes twinkled with happiness and pride. She grabbed Glissandi by the shoulders and kissed her forehead.
"You have earned this, child. It was an honour teaching you, and I am certain that you have a promising future ahead of you. Remember what I have taught you, and I am sure you will attain much greater heights than I ever have. Make me proud, child. And remember, serving the Lord is its own reward."
Glissandi bowed, humbled, and fumbled as she received the small scroll the Prioress handed her, the official proclamation that she was now a Priestess.
"Thank you, Mother," the girl replied, her voice choked by the tears she desperately tried to hold back. "For everything."

The two women looked each other in the eye a final time, one carrying a broad smile, the other with tears running down her face. Then they turned, each to their task. The Prioress returning to the pulpit to call forward the next person, the Priestess towards the gate at the end of the courtyard, where she would meet the members of her party with whom she'd travel the world and spread the Lord's Light with.

Her journey had finally begun.




The small forecourt that lay in between the monastery and the stables was usually only sparsely occupied. The stablemistress and her aides went around feeding the horses and making sure there were always a few ready should the monastery have need of them. The women glanced nervously at the large group of well-armed warriors standing in the centre of the court, waiting for the first Priestess to exit the monastery. They may as well have been a chiseled from stone, seeing how none of them deemed it necessary to do more than blink, and sparingly at that. At the head of the group was a woman well past the bloom of youth, wearing a full set of plate armour, holding her winged helmet in her one hand, and resting the other on the hilt of her blade. Her grey eyes were fixed firmly on the wooden gate. Paladin Lissa was waiting patiently for her charge to walk through there. She was the first among equals here, with years more experience and more awards and decorations to her name than any other. Any who looked at her would see a calm and collected woman, yet within her head her thoughts tumbled around restlessly. It wasn't the first time she'd go out beyond the civilised world escorting a Priestess. She had had plenty of experience with all sorts of party leaders since the first woman she had been saddled up with, way before she had attained the rank of a Paladin, back when she was but a Squire. Some Priestesses listened to reason. Others were headstrong and had their own idea of how the world worked. Most were a mixture, but usually all were convinced that they knew better and the Lord help her if convincing them that camping in a goblin infested region required stopping in defensible locations rather than the pretty ones. Her thoughts flashed back to the young woman behind her. The Knight, Trista, was wearing the same outfit as her superior and the two women had the same posture. They looked quite different from one another though, even if they mimicked each other near perfectly. Where the Paladin had grey eyes, grey, short hair, and a leathery, tanned skin that was covered in scars, Trista had short brown hair and dark brown eyes, although she was equally tanned. She had less scar tissue in general, except for the region around her nose, which was downright disfigured. That had happened during an ambush by trolls, and the only reason she had survived that wound was because of her skill. If the blow had fully connected her head would have been gone entirely. Lissa wondered what the Knight was thinking. It would be her second time escorting a Priestess, and the last one had, if the rumours were to be believed, been more than an annoyance. There was little love lost between the Order of the Sword and the Faction of the Spirit, but it was rarely that a Paladin forced an expedition to return early.  She hadn't inquired about it. That wasn't her task.

Her thoughts moved on from the Knight towards the two Squires that were assigned to her party for this mission. A young pair of twins, girls who were old enough to skirt with the border of being called women and who did everything in their power to stay as far away from that as possible. She had to suppress a smile. Mina and Mira, the Lord bless the buggers, were loyal and enthusiastic about any task given to them, but they struggled with discipline. A bit of an understatement, but on the way here she had discovered that as long as the girls were exceptionally busy they had no time for mayhem and pranks, and the one time one of them had loosened the pins on her saddle they had discovered that she did not share their sense of humour. After she had made them ride the rest of the day hanging to the underside of their horses, the girls had decided to not prank their new superior. She had a soft spot in her heart for them, although she would never admit it. Both girls were seemingly thin, their thick, black hair making their pale faces seem even paler, but she knew that they were more athletic than even some Knights. The girls were absolutely fanatical when it came to their training, and when she picked them up their Blademistress had confided to the Paladin that the girls could wield their training swords with more skill than half the Knights under her command.

She took pride in her unit. It would never show on her face and she would not let it slip how proud she was to be allowed to lead such a strong and capable unit for the glory of the Lord, but she was proud none the less. It was fitting. A party would always be formed by putting members of several fortress-monasteries together, and the division was decided on ability. The First Associate would be teamed up with the Head Paladin, the First Knight, and the two Squires who were the most promising. While that distinction filled the Paladin with confidence in regards to her sisters of the Order of the Sword, it made her worry for their last companion. The clergy did things decidedly different and she had served a First Associate turned Priestess before. The woman had been very capable, her magical prowess had saved their hides more than once when they were facing an overwhelming opposition, yet on the other hand if the woman had actually listened to advice once in a while they would never have needed to face that opposition in the first place.

The doors opened and immediately Lissa abandoned her thoughts and gave her full, undivided attention to the woman walking out of the monastery. Girl, she corrected herself. That had to have been the youngest Priestess she had ever seen. Surely this was a mistake. Priestesses usually didn't attain that position unless they were nearly half again as old as this... girl was. She studied the newcomer carefully, not letting it show on her face. There were tears visible on the girl's cheeks. She did not consider that a good sign. The Priestess scanned the forecourt and seemed to be taking in the gathered warriors as carefully as Lissa was taking the girl in. Then their eyes met and Lissa had to alter her opinion of the girl. Those eyes were ablaze with determination and eagerness, yet as the Priestess strode over to her, without a hint of uncertainty despite being confronted by over three dozen of hardened and well armed women, they were well contained within. The girl paused a few steps short of Lissa, and bowed. Bowed!
"Greetings, Paladin. I am Priestess Glissandi. I assume you are the leader of the party that I will become a part of?"
Lissa's eyes narrowed slightly. The introduction spoke volumes about the character of the Priestess, and this girl was humble and polite. Yet the fire in those eyes didn't waver one bit. This girl had ambitions and dreams, and there was a strength hidden behind that pretty face that Lissa wouldn't like to be faced with. She snapped off a sharp salute.
"Paladin Lissa, at your service Priestess. Behind me are Knight Trista and Squires Mina and Mira. We will be your sword and shield for this mission, for the glory of the Lord."
Glissandi smiled warmly as the Knight snapped off a salute just as sharp as the Paladin earlier, the moment she heard her name. Glissandi's eyes went over the Knight's scarred face and her perfect posture faltered slightly. What could injure a woman so? Then she regained control over herself and gave the Paladin a perfect smile. "Let us go then, Sister of the Light. I look forward to learning from your experience. I hope that you will forgive me for being forward, but I shall count on your advise and will expect you to give it freely. You are more accustomed with this task than I am, and it would not do that our mission would delay or achieve less than great success." She gestured to the older woman to lead the way, and fell in beside her as they walked towards the stables, where her new outfit and anything else she would require for the journey was laying in a travelling pack.

Lissa was not sure whether to be elated or deeply worried. The girl had a solid head on her shoulders and made it clear from the start that she knew her own lack of experience and had instantly demanded that if she made an error, that Lissa would let her know post haste. That would be a dream come true as it would make it easy provided she actually listened when the time came, although Lissa had a feeling the girl would. What did worry her, however, was what the Paladin could hear between the lines. Glissandi was ambitious, oh-so ambitious. She would not tolerate her own pride to interfere with their task. This Priestess aimed for success, and the hunger in her voice for results wasn't something the girl could contain. Normally she would applaud that. She served the Lord with her heart and soul after all, and she desired success just as much as Glissandi did. But did Glissandi desire success for the Lord, or for herself? Only the future would point that out, and this endless pondering would bring her no closer to the truth. She signaled Trista and the two warrior woman accompanied the Priestess. They would load their pack horses, saddle up, and their journey would start.

Regardless of what the future would bring, Lissa was deeply happy. She was doing the duty the Lord had intended for her, and nothing pleased her more.




First Knight Trista only paid a minor amount of attention to the conversation between the Paladin and the Priestess. Most of her attention was spent on constantly scanning her surroundings. It was impossible for any threat to approach a monastery without being detected long before it got within sight of the building, but life had taught her a few harsh lessons about taking security for granted. Her disfigured face was proof of that. She systematically moved her eyes constantly, taking notes of the landscape, of bushes where goblins could hide, trees where an archer might lurk, a rocky outcrop that could hide a troll. Her fellow Knights at the fortress-monastery that she called home had ridiculed her once they had discovered that compulsion. They called her paranoid, insane, and a few had even called her out for lacking faith— as if the Lord would ever tolerate monsters and evil to approach a sanctum! The women who had voiced those accusations had faced her in a duel shortly after that— all three of them versus her alone, in a single battle. They had kept quiet after that, even when their bones had healed. Her Protector, the leader of the fortress-monastery, had admonished her for it. Even though the woman had agreed that the insults were vicious enough to warrant her issuing them a challenge, thoroughly trashing them to the extent that they needed months in the infirmary was taking it too far.
Trista had accepted the penance the Protector had set for her. She would not tell the woman that the main reason she had reacted so aggressively was because the accusations were true.

When the trolls had ambushed her patrol, she had lost faith. She had seen most of her team be torn to shreds in seconds after the beasts had struck. A human stood little chance against a being easily twice as tall as you swinging a club that was the size of a trunk. How those monsters got that close to a fortress-monastery that employed a full squad of scouts had been anyone's guess. She absentmindedly brought her hand up to her nose, and snapped it down violently once she realised what she was doing. That beast was dead now, by her own hand. Two other trolls had died as she served as the only line of defence while protecting three heavily wounded comrades-in-arms. The fourth beast would have overwhelmed her had the Protector not launched a lightning-quick assault, arriving just in time to prevent the First Knight from being pulverised and to shove a lance through the troll's torso.

In a way she was glad for it, though it was a thought that made her feel guilty. It made people believe that the real reason she had so violently beaten up the Knights that had been spreading tales like fish-wives, was because they also commented on her new appearance rather than her lack of faith. And it was that lack of faith that bothered her so. She still believed that the Order was a force of good, but she could hardly trust and support the Lord when he allowed His faithful to die for no reason. She had begun questioning Him more and more ever since the attack, and had only found more questions— questions that she would voice to no one. Being stripped of everything she had, getting whipped till she had no skin on her back, and being thrown out of the Order would be the most merciful of fates she could expect. So she had thrown herself into her training even harder, to all the world appearing to be a woman driven by the fires of faith, zeal and vengeance on the evil that had wrested her beauty and friends from her. Her teachers had held her up as a shining example to the rest of the Knights and Squires, an irony she both appreciated and loathed simultaneously. She cared little for the Lord, even though she still followed. But she cared for those around her, for the Order. The Order was good. The Order brought peace and prosperity and those who ascended in its ranks were worthy and would do their task well, regardless of how they felt.

And that's when she had been assigned to accompany a Priestess on a missionary sending. The belief in the competence of the Order as a whole had not so much taken a beating as it had been dismantled entirely. The Priestess had been arrogant, aggressive, had abused her magic to impress and punish without discrimination. Any man, woman, child that had not worshipped the bitch was harshly punished. At first the Paladin that was with them had tried to voice complaints, all which were either pointedly ignored or resulted in the Priestess yelling so viciously at her that the Paladin bade a hasty retreat. The situation had escalated as time progressed, and had only been violently ended when the Priestess lost her temper with the wrong people. She had used magic to strangle one of the Squires over a perceived insult and the poor girl had been turning blue. Trista had returned from her patrol just in time to see the end of that. The frail girl was near death and the furious Priestess was still livid and dead-set on administering a proper penance. The sound the Paladin's blade made when it pierced the Priestess' gown and flesh would be forever associated with the downfall of the Order to her. The Order was an organisation made up of humans, and humans were fallible. She had been trained well enough to know that she was more than slighty biased, and that the individuals the Order produced were incredibly capable. Usually the only people who reached a high rank were indeed those who truly believed and would go on performing countless good deeds. But she no longer believed things on hearsay. She would judge what her own eyes witnessed and believe those whom she deemed trustworthy, but nothing more.

"Are you alright, Knight Trista?" came the Priestess' voice.
She snapped out of her thoughts back to the here and now, glad that her eyes were still moving back and forth and looking for traps and foes. She moved them towards the Priestess and was confused when she saw the face of that young woman again, younger than her by several years at least, which was absurdly young for a Priestess. But what truly confused her was the look of honest concern. She nodded her head slightly.
"I am fine, Priestess."
Glissandi nodded in return, the look on her face making clear she did not believe a word of it, but that she would not enquire if the Knight didn't want to share. Trista appreciated that. So when she felt dislike for the woman well up, she pushed it down firmly, aware that this Priestess could not be blamed for the actions of the previous one.
"I would like to request the same of you as I did of Paladin Lissa; I would like to hear your honest and open opinion on everything I do. Treat me as you would treat a student." The Priestess' eyes went over to the Squires slaving away with loading the horses and already working up quite a sweat and she grimaced slightly. "Well... Maybe not entirely as a student," she corrected.
Despite herself, Trista's lips twitched upwards. The Priestess had a solid head on her shoulders and seemed to actually be aware that she would be depending on her warrior escort to see her safely around the world once they left civilisation. And moreover, she tried to be friendly, which was another thing the Knight could comprehend. Knights, Squires and Paladins were all used to being out in the field and interacting with strangers on a daily basis, often working solo, but anyone serving the clergy was often locked away in monasteries and saw little of the outside world.

She turned her attention to her superior, a woman she had only known for a few weeks, yet one whom she trusted deeply. Everything about the woman screamed that she was a damn capable leader, and that was before she knew of the dozens of awards the Paladin had to her name. Lissa seemed to feel the Knight's gaze and turned her face slightly, meeting Trista's stare. She nodded once, but firmly, then returned her attention to the Squires and the Priestess. If the Paladin approved of this new Priestess, then the Knight would follow her lead.
"As you wish, Priestess. It shall be my honour."
Glissandi beamed a bright smile. Lord above, the girl —she was hard pressed to think of the Priestess as a woman now— was really looking forward to it all, and obviously felt safe in the hands of her new companions. Had she ever been like that, wide-eyed and full of eagerness to explore the world?

As the Priestess fired question after question at the Paladin concerning everything from how much difference there was between a warhorse and a travelling horse —a lot— to how long it would take them to leave civilisation behind and actually start their mission —around a month or two, depending on the weather— Trista's expression returned to her usual, unreadable state. She slid her helmet onto her head and fastened the straps, and went over to Steadfast, her own horse. She considered sending a prayer skywards for a good journey, then decided against it as she mounted. The future would bring what it would bring, but she doubted the Lord would deign to personally interfere with her.

Mina and her twin sister regarded their three companions silently. The Priestess climbed onto her horse —doing it too clumsily to be described as mounting— and Trista and Lissa followed suit. The girl barely managed to hide a scowl. They were saddled up with someone who would doubtlessly be a nuisance and delay their adventure. They had finally, finally been let out of that damnable prison others called home, and they had been overjoyed when they had been partnered up with Lissa, someone who could actually take both her and her sister on simultaneously. Then Trista joined the party and the Knight had been eyeing them warily, like a wolf watching its prey. They had recognised her for the capable woman she was. But now they had this Priestess to deal with. A happy young woman who was oh-so overjoyed at being freed from her confines. Much akin to their own fate, except they could handle themselves, which Mina doubted the Priestess' ability to do likewise. Granted, the woman was magically strong, they could see her ability burning brightly within her, but —the Lord have mercy— she struggled to get onto a horse! Mina nearly spat on the ground, and would have if not for a quick shake of her sister's head. Both Lissa and Trista would have seen, despite neither of the warriors looking in their direction, and she was not too keen on having her head slapped by an armoured gauntlet again.

As the party set off, the twins fell in line, making up the rear along with the pack horses. The pace was slow, too slow for their liking. Mina twisted her head slightly to look at her sister and wasn't surprised to find an equally annoyed look on the girl's face, invisible to all but her own twin. Letting out a short sigh, she allowed her thoughts to wander. She entertained herself by recalling the first evening, their first mock battle with the Paladin after the older woman had recruited them to the party. Mina knew that she and her sibling were excellent fighters, way better than most Knights, and when fighting in unison they could throw off pairs of fighters even if they were individually better. Yet Lissa had beaten them both soundly, leaving no doubt who the victor had been. They had adored her for it. At home there had been nobody left to beat. The older Paladins were constantly out on missions, and even the Blademistress had begun avoiding them like the plague. The girls needed a challenge and Lissa had noticed, and gave them one. Mina absentmindedly brought her hand up to her cheek, where Lissa's foot had somehow connected with her face after dodging an attack that the Paladin shouldn't have been able to dodge. It had knocked her clean out of the fight and Mira had followed suit a few seconds later, the Paladin's knee landing in her sister's stomach causing the girl to surrender her evening meal to the grass.

The fight with Trista had been similar. Lissa hadn't allowed them to challenge the Knight to a battle at first, until the girls had mocked Trista's face. That had allowed the Knight to, despite the Paladin's original protests, teach the girls a lesson. The older women had to make do without their Squires for a few days as they were nursing more wounds and bruises than they had believed possible. Lord above, that woman could fight!
Mina's lips twitched upwards in a smile. With Trista and Lissa they had found a proper home. People who could outperform them and whom they could gain valuable experience from. Mina knew that she and her twin were smarter than most, faster than most and better than most, despite their youthful age. She could feel her sister's presence in the back of her head, and when paired up with her they could execute the most difficult attack patterns without any prior training, instinctively knowing what the other would do and being able to add to it. They were, as their superior had often called it, blessed by the Lord. Those same superiors had often called them arrogant but who could blame them if those supposed betters couldn't provide them with a challenge or proper lessons!


Mira shook her head bemusedly. She knew what her sister was thinking even without having to look at her face. Her twin sister was too easily frustrated, too quick to focus on what was bad rather than what was good, and far, far too impulsive for her own good. Her back still throbbed from the beating that Trista had given her after Mina had called her out with a very specific and impressive series of profanities. The bruises had been well deserved, and confirming Trista's skills had been worth the beating. Where her sister focused on being annoyed with the slow pace as the Priestess and the Paladin conferred with one another, Mira was content. They were finally on the road and she couldn't help feeling that this journey would hold a lot more in store for them than either of them could foresee, as if they were heading to something big. She knew her sister felt it too. She often wondered if that ability to feel what the other was thinking was because they were twins or because they really were blessed by the Lord. The one seemed as feasible as the other, and she had never had the opportunity to meet another pair of twins, so the answer to that question remained a mystery.

She gave her sister a hard, mental prod and was pleased to see Mina straightening up and her scowl deepening. Mira countered the angry frown with a smile.
'We're travelling with people we can learn from, Sis. Stop acting like a phoenix caught in the rain just because there's a bit of delay.'
Mina's face turned sour. Sending thoughts directly to the other was a thing Mira could do, but one Mina hadn't managed yet, although that wasn't for lack of trying. Mira did receive a broad angry feeling. That was something her sister could broadcast. Changing the conversation topic, Mira projected that feeling that lurked in the back of her head, along with a question. Mina gave a nearly imperceptible nod, indicating that she felt it too. Mira was about to ask another question when Lissa let out a soft growl and forcibly readjusted the Priestess' her position on her horse, causing the younger woman to shriek as she suddenly found herself hugging her horse's neck. The Paladin gave Trista a short hand signal and the Knight slapped the Priestess' horse flank, causing it to set off in a trot. The warriors instantly followed suit, and the twins rapidly exchanged a grin before doing the same, forcing the pack horses along as they went.



It was hours later when the group stopped. Glissandi was covered in sweat and visibly struggled to stay atop her horse, shakily clinging to it with an admirable determination and stubbornness. Mira managed to suppress her grin just in time, but her sister failed and received a smack on her cheek from a Trista, who dealt the blow without any visible emotion. Mina took it in good grace and didn't respond, despite the trickle blood welling up from the cuts caused by the gauntlet.
"We'll stop here for a bit." Lissa slid off her horse with an ease that the Priestess envied, as she nearly fell off her own horse. The woman took a few steps before collapsing into the ground. This time Mira caught a hit that send her head ringing. It was deserved. She shouldn't have laughed.

Glissandi steadily crawled into an upright position again and closed her eyes. Her magic lit up like a fire to anyone sensitive to it as she formed a quick weave and cast it out.
'Cheater,' thought Mira, and felt a sentiment of agreement coming from her sister. The Priestess stood up and dusted herself off, her magic having taken away her exhaustion.
"That was... intense," the Priestess said, somehow managing to prevent her irritation from showing. "Do you plan to keep this pace up every day?"
"Actually Priestess, I plan to go faster starting tomorrow," Lissa answered, signalling the Squires to dismount and to prepare a quick meal. The girls slid off their horses with exaggerated grace and hurried to their task when they caught Trista's angry stare, noticeable despite the woman wearing a full face helmet.
Glissandi's face took on a look of desperation, before taking a deep sigh. "I'm afraid I'm not very comfortable with riding for so long yet. I don't suppose there are any pointers you could give me that would ease the burden?"
"I think I can show you a few," came Lissa's reply, a hint of approval audible in her voice.

The girls lost little time in preparing a meal. They wouldn't need to light a fire, so all they had to do was take a few loafs of bread and some dried sausages out of the bags, as well as hand out the flasks of water. They set to their tasks with speed and dedication, despite their badly hidden dislike. Neither Trista nor Lissa could find fault with them there, and the girls were keenly aware that the faster they were done with their tasks, the more time they had left for other things. The meal was short and spent in silence, with Trista keeping eerily quiet as she always did, her eyes scanning everything around them for threats. Glissandi was simply too beat up to talk much. She could remove her muscle ache with magic, and block the feeling of exhaustion setting in, but applying a well cast weave didn't have the same punch as a proper night's rest did, and that was still far off. She did make some attempt at small talk however, and received polite and curt answers from the Paladin, whom obviously still was testing the waters to the precise character of the Priestess.

All too soon for Glissandi's liking, the party mounted their horses again and resumed their fast pace. Lissa obviously wanted to cover a great distance before stopping for the night. The only consolation the Priestess had was that Lissa promised that if they kept this pace up, they'd reach the starting point of their mission within a month. The way the older woman voiced those words made them seem like a great compliment. Glissandi decided to take it as such. Mina shook her head in disgust. The Priestess was almost desperate to fit in. Mira gave her sister a sharp stab.
'Of course she wants to fit in. How would you be, in her stead.'
Mina's response was a cloud of anger that was like lightning. Mina obviously didn't care for others that she couldn't use to better herself.
'You're an idiot. If Lissa approves of her, than we can learn from her too. Watch, don't let your massive ego get in the way, and observe instead.'
The lack of a response to that caused a wide grin to appear on Mira's face.
Oh sister dear, aren't you lucky that you have me to watch over you lest you become too arrogant and thickheaded? she thought quietly to herself. Then she laughed, seeing the irony in thinking that. She patted her horse on the neck.
'And regardless, sis', she thought aloud, 'we're finally having our adventure.'



Glissandi did her damned best to look the part of a Priestess, sitting straight up in her saddle, rather than the part of a young woman that had covered more distance in a single day than she had in the last ten years put together. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the latter surprising her. She hadn't expected horse riding to tire her to that extent, but she had to admit that the only reason she hadn't fallen out of her saddle during the last few hours was her steel determination to make a good impression on the Paladin. The Priestess was confident that she had succeeded in that at least, but she honestly hoped that tomorrow would be easier, or she'd die of exhaustion long before they got close to the borders. That was a worry for the next day however, now her thoughts were focused on the inn they were heading to. It was already getting dark and Lissa had obviously pressed hard to make it to this town before nightfall, and Glissandi had obediently increased her pace, too tired to argue about it. The casual conversation that Trista and Lissa had made about the promise of an inn, warm food, and —the Lord be blessed!— a hot bath —or at the very least a tub with warm water— had helped, and she hated herself for it. And that the two women had done it on purpose. She was a fully trained Priestess with enormous potential, and the Paladin and Knight treated her like a child to be goaded on with the promise of presents.

Now they were in the town however. The group stayed in the middle of the road, that was surprisingly well maintained. Solid stone underneath, a rarity for a town as out of the way as this one. Glissandi knew that Lissa had mentioned the name of the town, but the Lord have mercy, she couldn't recall it at all. A spark of excitement got hold of her once she realised she had actually left the lands under direct control of the Order. She was in the Trivistan Empire now! A huge nation that covered enormous territories to the south and west of the Order, the Empire had eaten up most of its neighbours over the many years, and was a well functioning nation. The Imperial Family ruled as absolute dictators, but unlike most Kings, Queens and other nobles in other countries, they were deeply loved by their subjects. The laws were strict, but fair, taxes were surprisingly low, and the army took on the additional role of police force, civil engineers, and whatever the country needed, making the highly trained force a welcome sight rather than something to be feared. The Empire was also one of the best neighbours the Order could wish for, and trade flowed freely between the two nations, and if anyone had the idea to threaten the seat of the Order with an invasion, nobody doubted that the Empire would mobilise immediately to rush to the Order's aid.

Glissandi smiled warmly, sitting straight in her saddle, waving gently at the people who respectfully cleared a path for her. Despite the late hour the streets were still surprisingly full, yet everyone easily parted at the sight of four heavily armed women with a Priestess in their midst. She may not have the stamina to ride a horse for a full day, but she'd let Darkness claim her before she'd show believers anything less than a perfect Priestess. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her, despite the lack of wind, and her pristine gown sparkled in the light of the lanterns that were being lit all over now that the sun was setting. Her beautiful face was adorned with a benevolent smile, further enhanced by the stark contrast of her entourage. The Knight and Paladin were covered from head to toe in dusty plate armour, but even with the shine gone their winged helmets gave them the image of divine warriors. The Squires, limited to chainmail, a simple helmet that lacked a visor, had a confident look on their faces, without being arrogant about it. They scanned the surroundings carefully and made it known that they were doing that. Soldiers who were fully focused on their task, and looked impressive while doing it. Yes, this is how the Order should present itself. Powerful, noble, and tasked by the Lord to protect His followers. Glissandi thought. The people were happy to see her. They smiled back at her, poked their mates on the back and pointed while laughing, those closest to her made short bows or curtsied with respect bordering on reverence, and kids rushed as close to the imposing warhorses as they dared, shouting all manner of compliments, or asking for a blessing for adorable things.

A tiny boy wearing a much too serious expression for his age pushed his way through the others, dragging an even smaller girl along with him by the hand. He stopped a few feet short of Trista's horse and knelt down, not letting go of the girl's hand despite it. Trista was left with the choice of letting her horse trample him, which a warhorse would do without hesitation, or stop. Glissandi was sure Lissa ordered Trista to do the latter, but how the command had been given eluded her entirely. The older woman had not moved at all as far as she could see.
"Priestess!" the boy cried out in his tiny voice, desperation mixed with a tinge of hope audible in the cry. Glissandi's heart wept at it, and would have hopped off her horse to pull him up and hug him, but she was quite certain she would never manage to get back on her horse afterwards. That, and Lissa somehow radiating the feeling that should the Priestess dare to leave the protective circle in a busy town, that the Paladin would skin her alive afterwards.
She suppressed a shiver and took the benevolence in her smile up a few notches. "What is wrong, child of the Light?"
The boy knelt down even further, his head only a few inches away from the hooves of Trista's horse, each one easily capable of turning his head into paste.
"Please Priestess, bless my sister!" came the response. It was shouted clearly, despite the storm of emotions that was obviously raging in the boy.
Glissandi tilted her head, her exhaustion not forgotten but pushed aside for now. Her curiosity was piqued. Children rarely acted this strongly if they did not have a very clear goal in mind. She closed her eyes briefly and touched the fire of magic that burned inside her. When she opened her eyes she looked down at the children again. Her blue eyes took on a slight touch of gold as the magic ran freely inside her. The boy was surrounded by a swirl of colours. Despair was obvious and powerfully present, but it clashed with a sense of determination and duty that refused to give up. And a gold thread of hope shone brightly throughout it all. She turned her attention from the admirable boy to his sister and her eyes went wide. The fires of magic burned like a lighthouse within her. The girl had considerable ability, a good deal less than her own, but enormous none the less! Yet that made no sense, if the boy was so desperate for his sister to be blessed...

Glissandi took another look, focusing more. Then she let out a hiss as an angry frown formed on her angelic face. Within a moment's notice all four of her protectors had their swords out, causing the crowd to rear back in a mixture of excitement and worry. Glissandi ignored all that and slid down from her horse, shrugged off Lissa's murderous stare as she walked over to the brother and sister on the ground, didn't notice how both Lissa and Trista started circling around her, still on horseback, shield and sword at the ready, while Mina and Mira had dismounted as well, short swords and bucklers ready, and covered the Priestess from anything that might have a chance at breaching the circle their superiors formed. She noticed none of that, her attention purely focused on that core of pitch, black Darkness that lay in the midst of that flame of magic. A curse, a potent one at that, that was slowly draining the poor girl's life. No wonder the boy had been that desperate. If left unchecked for a few days longer the girl would have wasted away. She knelt down and grasped the girl's hand and smiled warmly at her.
"What is your name, child?" she asked softly. Two tiny eyes looked up briefly, then down again. The Priestess squeezed the girl's hands again and those eyes flashed up again. This time the Priestess made sure the girl didn't look away. Gazing deeply into the girl's eyes she could make out the flashes of gold swirling around in them, natural magical abilities struggling against the curse and fighting a losing battle to keep it at bay.
"I'm Nassi," the girl whispered, giving a slightly scared smile. Glissandi replied with a broad one of her own.
"That's a beautiful name, Nassi." The Priestess started drawing more and more of her own magic and her eyes slowly turned fully to gold as she started sending strands through the girl's hands into her body. Curses were delicate to remove, nothing to be forced. The Mind and the Spirit were fragile things. As she started her work, she felt how exhaustion tugged at her from the corners of her mind. Her mental discipline kicked in and she banished it out of her conscious entirely. She was a Priestess, a magician of extreme ability, blessed by the Lord himself, and she would allow no weakness of her own to interfere in the healing of one of His followers!

Nassi smiled weakly at the Priestess, and gave a surprised tug on Glissandi's hands as a feeling of comfortable warmth spread from them, sinking into the girl's small body. The smile turned sleepy and Nassi's eyes slowly started closing, causing her brother to gasp in fear and worry. Glissandi devoted a small part of her attention to him.
"Don't worry child. She is safe now. You did well in bringing her to me. You have saved her life in doing so."
The boy broke down, relief bursting forth from the thread of hope, overwhelming everything else. Despair and determination alike drowned in that sea and the boy just collapsed, weeping quietly whilst clutching the hems of the Priestess' gown. Glissandi briefly looked down at him and smiled warmly, her heart touched, before returning her attention to the curse. It was a nasty, subtle, well hidden thing. Lurking in the fires of the girl's own magic it had been near impossible to see, even with her own ability it had been hard to notice, it was small wonder no one had found out about it.

She pushed more strands in, slowly forming a web inside the girl. It was both a puzzle, a lock and a trap at once. She had to surround it, dismantle it and make sure not to apply too much pressure, or the core of the curse would burst and kill the girl instantly. Drops of sweat formed on Glissandi's head. She had trained this extensively, but there was a vast gap between a training practise and doing it while a life was at stake. Before worry could sink its hooks into her, her vast discipline came to the forefront and reinforced her determination. She took a deep breath and redoubled her efforts. The weave grew tighter and started locking entire sections off from the core, meaning death was out of the question now. Paralysis in some limbs would be the worst now. She brought up more strands, slipped them through the dark web that made out the core, manoeuvring them with skill and care, wiggling them slightly and forcing the black strands to move to her bidding. She lost track of time as she progressed further and further, alienating the curse and rendering it weaker and weaker with each passing moment. After what felt like an eternity she was done, and with a triumphant yell she stood up, slid her hands past Nassi's head and then tore the curse out in one go.

In the broad daylight, for a truly massive crowd, Glissandi came back to her senses, her hair floating freely behind her head, rays of sunlight setting it aflame. Her tired face, covered in sweat and dust and looking no less angelic for it, carried a victorious smile, her eyes shining bright gold, visible for all who looked at her. And in between her outstretched hands was a bowl of golden energy, holding a tiny black dot that seemed to suck the light out of the day itself, captive. Blinking, surprised, she could see the warriors still moving around her, ever vigilant, with only the Squires throwing a glance her way. Blinded by the sunlight she realised it was well into the morning of the next day. Before she could contemplate any of that however, the crowd responded.

A roar that shook the town to its foundations originated from hundreds of throats. Praises to the Light and the Lord were launched into the sky and like a tidal wave they surged forward. Lissa turned the direction of her horse and darted to the Priestess, picking the confused woman up, and pulled Glissandi, surprisingly gracefully yet no less hard for that, onto her horse, making sure she sat firmly behind her. A short glance at Trista and the Squires was all it took for the entire group to form up on her before the crowd had the chance to cover the little distance needed to reach them. Nassi and her brother, lacking such protection, were picked up and raised into the sky as the crowd went mad with cheers, euphoria taking hold and spreading like wildfire. Glissandi sat on the horse, utterly numbed, still holding that core of Darkness in between her hands, keeping it firmly caged, watching it all happen with utter confusion.

Then, as her mind started catching up with current events, a smile crept onto her face. And as the atmosphere started getting to her she raised her hands high up in the sky, displaying the captured curse like a trophy and shouted "Praise the Lord!"
Exhaustion temporarily forgotten, Glissandi's eyes radiated pure happiness as the crowd took on the shout and the Lord's name was praised high into the heavens.




"You are utterly insane!" shouted Lissa. "What were you thinking! If there had been an assassin around, or even a simple farmer with a grudge, you could have been wounded, killed! If I ever catch you doing that again I will flail you alive!" The Paladin was outraged, her usually stern face red with anger.
Glissandi brought her hands up in defense. "The girl was dying! And we're still close to the Order's territories, the chances of anyone being after me already is practically nonexistent!" The Priestess obviously disagreed with Lissa's assessment, fully believing herself in the right.
Lissa grabbed the Priestess's gown with both hands and pulled the younger woman up, who immediately abandoned any priestly behaviour and started squealing. "You told me to treat you like a student, and one of the first lessons is that you COMMUNICATE with your unit!" the Paladin raged, shaking the Priestess as if she was a rag doll. "In any unknown situation where you are not blessedly certain of your surroundings you don't rush out of the circle!" Lissa was vaguely aware of the twins laughing only to have their amusement be cut short by a ringing blow to the head. Good. At least the Knight remained reliable and composed.

Lissa returned her attention to the Priestess just in time to see the scared expression fade and turn into determination. A moment later the Paladin was blasted backwards through the common room in the inn by a magical blast, crashing into a table and reducing it to firewood. Glissandi fell to the ground, her eyes blazing gold as magic coursed through her. As the Paladin slowly got up from the broken table, the Priestess regained her composure. "I am not a Warrior!" she hissed. "I had no way of knowing what is common sense to you. And if you dare manhandle me like that again it will be you who will be flailed alive!"

The twins started laughing again, but Glissandi's glare shut them up even before Trista could cuff them around their ears again.
Lissa shook her head, clearing her vision. She approached Glissandi slowly, differently. She moved like a panther approaching a prey, and the Paladin could tell the Priestess noticed from how the woman recoiled, suddenly a lot less sure of herself. Good, the Paladin thought. "Then that is a mistake I will rectify when we set off again." Lissa grinned at the Priestess, and the older woman knew it was a feral expression. The Priestess wanted to pretend that she was in the right, did she? That she had no way of knowing what was common sense to Warriors? Then Lissa would make sure that she'd make sure she would never get to use that excuse again. From the way Glissandi paled, it was clear the message had arrived.


A knock on the door interrupted the argument, and within a moment the Knight and Paladin stood in front of the Priestess, hands on their swords, while the Squires took up position behind her.
"Enter without fear, if you serve the Light," Glissandi announced. The door opened and a short, broad man entered, holding a brightly coloured hat in his hands. Behind the man where two soldiers clad in leather armour, each armed with a cudgel and a small knife, but not wielding either of the weapons. Obviously guardsmen.
"Priestess, I'm mayor Kristof. Please allow me to thank you and the Lord for saving the life of the girl. If there is anything I can provide you and your party with, you have but to ask, and if it is within my ability I will see to it immediately."
Glissandi gave the man a warm smile. She couldn't shrug off the exhaustion anymore, but years of training let her at least masquerade it. "I thank you for your kind words, mayor." She tilted her head slightly, making a pretense of considering his offer. There were plenty of things that she needed from him. Information first of all. That curse was nothing to sneeze at, it was powerful and well hidden, not something a novice could cast. And not something to be placed on someone for no reason at all. It hinted at Darkness lurking below the Light and it was her sworn duty to drive it out of its hiding place and eradicate it.

"Mayor Kristof, I would like you to compensate the owner of the inn for the duration of our stay. We will be staying at this place, and as long as the threat remains we will not tolerate others to enter. As such, I would also like to request for a solid guard to be set around this location at all times. I will leave the finer details of that detail to Paladin Lissa," she said, gesturing to the Paladin, who accepted her task with a small nod. "For the rest, I would like for Nassi and her brother to be brought here as well. I will need to question them, and them staying with us will make it less likely for them to be targeted again." The mayor nodded and tried to respond, but Glissandi cut him off with a sharp gesture. "In addition to that, I would like for the captain of the guard, whoever is in charge of the judiciary system of the town and holds the ledgers of all criminal activities recorded and the person in charge of the orphanage to be brought here as well. I will need their assistance if we are to root this Darkness out quickly."

The mayor opened his mouth and closed it again, obviously dumbfounded by the list of requests. He looked like a fish. Glissandi hid her annoyance at the man's inability to just do as he was told.
"Rooting out Darkness, Priestess?" the man asked.
Glissandi's annoyance shot up a few notches. Was the man actually that incompetent that he wasn't even aware that a healing that took an entire night meant something major was happening? Lord above, she hoped that the others she'd have to cooperate with would be more alert than this dull witted man.
"A curse of that level indicates at highly capable..." she trailed off, thinking of what word to use to instill the necessary speed in him without frightening him out of his wits. "Miscreants that have abandoned the Lord. Nassi is a capable girl with great magical promise," she explained, bowing her head slightly. "I would rather not waste time, mayor. Lest they expand their range of targets to, say, higher placed officials in order to cause chaos to obscure their trail." The mayor paled at that and Glissandi grinned in satisfaction.
"As you say, as you say Priestess, I'll do as you say with the most urgent haste! Men, with me!" the man explained, rushing out of the inn with a surprising amount of speed.


"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Mina muttered, earning herself another whack around the ears.
"A fair conclusion Priestess." Lsisa remarked. "Trista, secure the inn. Place wards where ever you see fit and tell me when you're done. Mina, Mira, do another tour of the building. I want every inch of this place ingrained in your memories. Then take care of the horses, we'll be staying here longer than expected. And I expect a full inventory on everything in here. You know the drill on that. Go!" she commanded. Trista was already heading upstairs, and the twins bolted off, eager to be on their task.
Glissandi was impressed with the speed that the Warriors presented, then failed to stifle a loud yawn. "Thank you, Lissa. If you don't mind, I will grab as much sleep as I can now. That healing took a lot out of me. On top of that horse riding." She threw the Paladin a weak smile, exhaustion finally settling in now that she was left alone with people whom she didn't need to pretend with. "And you were right, I think I could make use of a few lessons in Warrior's common sense."
Lissa paused mid-stride and turned to Glissandi, a surprised expression on her face. Clearly the Paladin had not expected to see the Priestess actually agree with her on that.
"Just..." the Priestess began, making her way up the stairs, "no more shaking."




A soft knocking on the door awoke Glissandi from an all too short slumber. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and got up from the too hard bed, glad she had thought of sending a cleansing weave through it to clear out any bugs before falling asleep in it. She looked at the candle she had lit before drifting off, and saw to her dismay that it had lost more than half of its size. She had slept for over three hours, and yet she felt as tired as before. With a soft grunt she dismissed the desire to ignore her visitor and instead set to fixing her gown, smoothing any curves in it. She wished she could have taken her mirror from the monastery with her, but lacking that she would have to make do with the reflection in the water of the washing table. Making sure her hair was still as perfect as it should be, she couldn't suppress a sigh at the amount of time and effort she had to put into it every blasted morning.
The knocking repeated and she admonished herself. She had duties to perform, a serious task to attend with lives at stake. She could waste no time on frivolities regarding her own comforts!

"Come in!" she announced. Before the sentence even finished, Lissa had already entered, fully armoured save for her helmet.
"A word of warrior common sense, Priestess," the Paladin began, greeting the Priestess with a nod, "always ask your visitor to announce themselves."
Glissandi felt a twinge of annoyance surge up at being lectured, but caught it and squished it out of existence before it could take hold. She had requested this, and despite her own dislike about it she knew that she needed it. So she inclined her head in response. "I'll bear that in mind."
Lissa quickly went over the room in a methodical fashion, paying close attention to the heavily warded window and the large closet, before finishing her short inspection tour by looking under the bed. "You'll be pleased to know that all the people you requested for have arrived and are waiting in the common room for you to join them. The girl and her brother have been taken to the adjoining room and are asleep there, with the Squires taking turns guarding them. There are three four-man patrols constantly walking around the inn, another six men are stationed at the front door, and four more at the back. The Captain takes his duties very seriously and I believe him trustworthy. On our part, we have thoroughly secured the entire building and all windows and entrances are properly warded."
Glissandi was taken aback by the amount of security that the Warriors had put in place. "And yet you still find it necessary for me to ask for identification prior to opening the door?"
Lissa responded with a slightly feral grin. "It may seem as paranoia to you, Priestess, but I have been on missions where the lack of it has made my task a lot easier." Her hand slid to the hilt of her sword almost unconsciously and the grin grew more feral. Then the Paladin took notice and her face returned to a more neutral stance. "It works, Priestess. In our line of work the words 'too careful' don't exist. At least not in regards to security."
Glissandi nodded, realising that the Paladin drew on more years of experience than she had been alive for. "As you say then. Please, lead the way."


Glissandi descended down the stairs in a regal matter and was pleased to see that every single one of the gathering of people looked at her with deference in their eyes. A Priestess was a high ranking member of the Order, and she was glad to see that they paid the necessary respect to her rank. It was quite easy to discern who was who. A tall man with a fair amount of gray in his hair was obviously the captain of the military within the city. His sharp features and the way his eyes never focused on one point was a massive give away. Not that she needed that, given that he was the only one wearing a chain mail shirt, with a buckler hanging on his back and a short sword on his belt. Next to him was an elderly woman, looking positively fragile compared to him. The way she looked at the Priestess as if the younger woman was a Saint come alive made Glissandi believe that this was none other than the headmistress of the orphanage, and was very well aware that the Priestess had saved the life of one of her charges. The last man was ghastly thin, with glasses dancing at the end of his nose and seeming to be in constant confusion about whether they were supposed to stay on or fall off. The black, inky stains on his fingers indicated him as the head scribe, or whatever the equivalent title was for that position in the Empire. He offered her a sharp nod, as if he wasn't pleased to have been pulled away from his books.

"Captain Dar, Ledger Master Cuvain, Head Mistress Lena, may I present to you Priestess Glissandi, may the Light bless her." Trista's introduction was solemn and short, before the Warrior retreated to the side of the room and seemed to become one with the background. A very heavily armed and alert part at least.
Captain Dar took a step toward the Priestess, but was overtaken by the Head Mistress who made a curtsy so deep she nearly fell over. "Priestess, I thank you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving little Nassi. I had tried everything, every doctor, every wise woman, but nothing seemed to ease her unease. I have not much, but please, whatever you may desire, it is yours." Tears ran down the woman's face and slowly fell to the floor.
Glissandi reached out for the flame inside her and let it flow through her. She felt her eyes turn from blue to gold again as she looked at the woman. She studied the colours swirling around the frail Head Mistress for a bit, before nodding. The woman spoke true. "I need nothing from you, daughter of the Light. Continue to serve Him as you have done before, and no one could ask more of you."
The Captain stepped around the older woman and looked into Glissandi's eyes, meeting her golden eyes with an angry gaze of his own. No, she corrected herself. Furious. "Priestess," he greeted her. "I am sorry to report that the town is now in a state of panic. The Mayor has ordered the gates sealed, and I heard of it too late to countermand the order. I have put the man into house arrest and relieved him of his duties. If our quarry is still in the town, they are now aware that we have started a hunt. If they are already outside the town, I fear that if they decide to go into hiding we will not find them anytime soon. Never the less, I have sent scouts out and messengers to alert all nearby garrisons to watch for suspicious characters, and to report their findings back to us. My men and I are more suited for warfare and policing duties rather than luring out filthy rats, but we are yours to command, in life, and unto death." The man snapped off a sharp salute and Glissandi could see the burning red covering him from head to toe and pulse vibrantly when he mentioned the rats. The Paladin had been right. The man was serious about his duties and took it as a personal insult that Darkness had gotten past him, saw it as an incompetence he would either clear up or die in the attempt to do so.
"You are a good man, Captain. Do not see it as your fault that Darkness has snuck past you. You are used to marching in the open where they excel at hiding in the shadows." She motioned to Lissa, who had moved to stand at her side.
"Keep the gates locked for now Captain. I would like you to clear the houses around the inn at present and establish your position there. It would also speed up our reaction speed if you established several forward positions in town so your soldiers can respond quickly."
The Captain grinned and Lissa instinctively returned it. Glissandi had a feeling she was watching two old wolves. "The forward positions are already established. I have a mage at every position to aid them and to quickly send signals should the need arise. My men are tightly patrolling the walls and the militia is working to calm the population as we speak. I have started a rumour that we are preparing to clean out a nest of thieves that deal in narcotics and have managed to operate underground for a long time, in cooperation with the Order. I have also amended the story that the curse that you rooted out, Priestess, was damage caused by an experimental drug." His grin broadened and Glissandi could barely hide the shiver running along her spine. Lissa's grin was a perfect mimicry of his! The two were enjoying it!

"Also," the Captain continued, "Master Cuvain, could you relay to us what you found in the ledgers?"
Glissandi pulled her eyes off the swirling red that surrounded the Captain and turned to face the thin scribe. There was very little emotion residing in him, only a hint of annoyance at being pulled away from his books. She sent a silent prayer to the Lord that it was only the Mayor who was incompetent.
Master Cuvain made the tiniest nod, barely moving his head. "Priestess. I have checked for criminal activity related to this. I have found nothing in the list of condemned criminals. I have found nothing in the list of suspected criminals. I have found something in the list of suspicious persons."
Glissandi blinked in surprise. The man spoke as if he was devoid of life, speaking in statements rather than in sentences. "What have you found, Master Cuvain?" she asked, forcing herself to ignore the man's weird behaviour.
"In the list of suspicious persons I have found one person who aligns with the criteria. Young woman. About six feet tall. Brown eyes. Black hair. Was wearing a large brown coat and boots, both made of good leather. Admitted to carrying one dagger. Suspected to have more. Estimated around sixteen years of age. Entered the city three weeks and two days ago."
"I have my most trustworthy informants looking out for her, Priestess." Dar interjected. "She has been spotted by several of my patrols the first three days after she has arrived."
"What made her become classified as a suspicious person?" Lissa asked.
"She made a point of evading my patrols. She was good at it too, but she seemed to be looking for someone, or something. Now I didn't think much of it at first, suspected she was a noble's daughter with too much free time and too little to do, but there are too many flags raised to not suspect a connection. Mistress Lena, when did the girl first showed signs of illness?"
"Nassi?" the woman seemed surprised at having been addressed. "Let me think... I think it was around—"
Glissandi interrupted everyone by hissing loudly and turning towards the door, followed a moment later by a loud explosion that resonated through the air. The door of the inn banged open and a soldier rushed through.
"Captain! Hostile action at the Weaver's Market! Red flare!"


Captain Dar rushed over to the soldier, followed by Glissandi, who somehow had overtaken Lissa. "Send two thirds of the main force to them! Make sure nothing gets in or out of that entire area, and send word to the wall that our target is on the loose!"
"Captain!" Glissandi yelled, pulling at the man's arm to force him to stop. "There's Dark magic being used. Your men will be wiped out!"
Dar's eyes widened the tiniest fraction, then rapped his knuckles against his forehead. "Then we will die for the Light, Priestess."
The man pulled himself out of Glissandi's grap and set of at a run, only to come to a full stop when Lissa grabbed him by the neck. "Lock the inn down. Get your men inside, protect the child at all cost, and give us some guides. You have rooted out the rat, Captain. Now it is our turn."
The Captain met Lissa's burning gaze, irked by the idea that he would have to sit out the Darkness that had gotten past him.
"You have done well, Captain. The Lord has tasks for all of us. Do not forsake duty for honour." Glissandi's words were solemn and the Captain turned his eyes downwards. A speck of shame appeared in the red cloud of anger.
"As you say Priestess."

Lissa turned towards the stairs and bellowed loudly. "Get in gear and get down! We have prey to hunt!" Trista, somehow having exited the inn without anyone else having taken notice, popped back in through the door, walking backwards, her shield and sword pointing towards the outside. Mina and Mira practically threw themselves down the stairs, barely managing to avoid losing their bucklers and short swords in their reckless descent.
Glissandi submerged herself fully in the fires of her magic and her eyes started to shine. As Lissa barked orders and the party got in formation, the Priestess prepared herself to unleash the Lord's divine punishment on the vile cretin that dared to hurt children. By the Light! she swore, they will pay!




The party stormed out of the inn, accompanied by a handful of soldiers that the Captain had assigned to guide them. Glissandi winced as the residue of another magical assault blasted past her. If she could feel it that clearly despite all the obstacles between their location, the enemy had to be a powerful spellcaster. Dangerously powerful. She turned towards the Paladin who was running alongside her, somehow managing to simultaneously sprint and hold her weapons up. "Looks like our enemy is a mage," she panted.
"That was fairly obvious since you had to remove a curse that finely crafted," the Paladin grunted in response.
Glissandi frowned and felt a stab of jealousy at the Paladin's ability to run at that speed without it affecting her. As much as the prospect disgusted her, she had a dire need of physical training to improve her stamina. "I know, but I can feel the spells from here. And there are a lot of obstructions in the way!"
Lissa turned her helmeted head towards the Priestess and let her eyes rest on the younger woman's face for a moment before nodding solemnly. "I understand." The Paladin snapped her eyes forward again and she shouted at Trista, who had taken the lead. "Trista! Anti-mage tactics!"
Trista gave no sign that she had heard anything, but Lissa seemed satisfied. Glissandi couldn't help but wonder if the Knight was a statue given life, considering the lack of emotion the woman displayed.

Lissa turned towards Glissandi again. "Do you have combat experience, Priestess?" she asked. She turned and gave a sharp gesture to the soldiers running alongside them, making them expand their circle around them.
"Not as much as I'd like, and all of it training," Glissandi admitted, "but I am capable and I won't panic. You can rely on me."
"We'll need to. Especially the twins, Trista and I can deflect a fair bit and our armour heightens those abilities, but the girls don't have the same defense, and they are too brash for their own good at times."
Twin groans indicated that the twins had heard the comment, despite the entire conversation happening at a rapid pace.

The group ran into a far larger contingent of the city's militia and within a few moments the party was locked well inside the centre, earning them a positive grunt by Lissa. The Empire trained their militias well, which was a rarity for forces assigned to cities. A lightly armoured, unarmed man made his way through the small army and took position next to Trista, whom the man assumed to be in command. "Ma'am, I'm Gerald, commander of the mages, who ever it is we're fighting is good. My colleague that send the flare is dead. Bitch all but disintegrated him. We were linked when it happened."
Glissandi looked at the man and saw two seas of red dance around him. Anger and grief filled him almost entirely, the two emotions enforcing one another. "Don't worry Gerald, we will return the favour."
The mage looked towards the Priestess and nodded, the desire for vengeance burning in his eyes. "Take care Priestess, our target uses weird attacks. No conventional blasts of fire or torrents of air. However she's fighting, my colleague had never seen anything like it."
Glissandi nodded in response and embraced her magic deeper, sending out threads to weave a net around her party as her eyes lit up. Whatever may come their way, she'd be ready for it.


The next few minutes were spend running in relative silence, with the soldiers at the front shoving the people on the streets out of the way and clearing the road for the group. Glissandi found herself panting more rapidly and Lissa threw her a worried look. "Are you rested enough?" the Paladin asked.
"Not used to running. Not part of our training. Plan to amend that in the future. Horse riding too." Glissandi sent a trickle of magic through her veins and she felt her fatigue slip off her. By the Lord, when that caught up with her she'd spend a week sleeping! That spell only delayed the inevitable.
Trista, who had manoeuvred herself to the front of the small army, slid to a halt and made a cutting gesture with her sword and spoke a single word. "Trouble." It carried enough authority to make the front of the group come to a dead stop, the men behind the first lines running into those ahead of them before everyone managed to stop.

Ahead of them was a shield-wall, formed by more militia-men. The small shields they wielded made it clumsily looking, but the spears were held with grim determination, and the crossbows poking over the top made up for it. The men covered the entirety of the street. Gerald went to the front and passed Trista, ignoring her hurried gesture to stay behind her. The shield-wall was a good tactic, but not against a single foe. And they were facing the wrong way. They were facing her way.
"What are you men doing?" Gerald asked, pure consternation adoring his voice. He looked at the three dozen or so men blocking their way and ordered them to break up the wall. The men ignored him and stayed in formation.
Trista ducked behind her shield. "Get back!" she shouted. Gerald turned in confusion and the crossbows fired. The mage never had a chance, the bolts, fired from that close, ripped him to pieces. Other bolts struck the militia's lines, most of whom hadn't put their shields up. Those who had weren't much safer, however, as the bolts simply smashed through them. Over a dozen of the militia went down with gaping wounds. Several crossbowmen had shot at Trista, but both the shield and the woman behind it were made of sterner stuff and she held firm, the attacks bouncing off her shield.

The group stood still in utter confusion as the men behind the shield-wall started reloading their crossbows with as much speed as they could manage. Lissa wasn't as easily shocked as the militiamen however, and raised her sword.
"Charge them!" she shouted out. The twins and Trista launched themselves from within the mass of bodies and threw themselves at the shield-wall, that tightened at the sight of three warrior women rushing their position. "Priestess! Break that wall!" the Paladin commanded. The Priestess, unaccustomed to the flow of battle, hopped to and lit up the air with a compressed ball of fire that she hurled towards the shield-wall. It overtook her comrades in the blink of an eye and smashed into the tight group, blasting them utterly apart and blinding everyone in the process.
Lissa, who had averted her sight as soon as she realised the Priestess was going with a fire spell, felt the heat wash over her and opened her eyes again, overseeing the carnage. Mina and Mira were huddled up behind Trista, a sensible move since the Knight was heavily armoured. Trista herself was fine, her large shield held up as a massive barrier between her and her target. Then her eyes wandered to the shield-wall. Or rather, what was left of it. The entire group had been simply obliterated. Glissandi's spell had hit them dead centre and exploded upon contact. Those closest to the impact had simply been evaporated, and the heatwave had blown the rest in every direction. It was a brutal, simple and efficient spell. The girl hadn't exaggerated her abilities.

She turned around and saw the militia still rooted in place. With Gerald's death and the sudden betrayal of their allies, shock reigned. She had to dispell that. She raised her sword again and let her voice thunder over them. "Ready yourselves! The enemy awaits!" Lord, giving speeches is not my thing. It worked though, the men seemed to shake off their stupor and come to their senses. "Good!" She could see the Weaver's Market in the distance, past the torn up street and the damaged buildings. Their quarry had to be clo—
"ATTACK" Glissandi shouted, her arms jumping forward as she hastily brought defenses up. Black streaks of magic flashed through the streets and collided on the golden dome that the Priestess had erected in the centre of the street. The militia who were to the sides of the street were less lucky, and the magical spears tore them apart. Where ever a man had taken even the smallest wound from the magic, his skin would turn black as tar, before it would rapidly spread across his entire body. The men near the afflicted jumped back, uttering curses as they witnessed their comrades die a horrible, painful death.

Lissa ignored all that however. Her attention was focused on a tall woman approaching them. Even with her limited ability she could see the air crackle around the woman. Witch! The woman appeared to be perfectly at ease and stopped a good hundred paces away from the group. Her features were surprisingly soft and she had a gentle smile playing about on her lips. Her long, black hair flowed behind her despite a lack of wind. In a way she seemed similar to the Priestess. Except for the eyes. Those were the complete opposite of Glissandi's. Were the Priestess' eyes turned into fountains of gold when she wielded her magic, the witch's eyes turned into pools of the darkest black.

The Paladin was surprised to feel a short tug on her arm and found Glissandi motioning to accompany her. The Priestess walked forward and the cluster of soldiers parted for her. Strangely enough Lissa felt less worried now. A battle-ready Priestess wouldn't fall prey to a surprise attack easily, be they physical or magical in nature. Not with the amount of defenses she had raised around her. If the air crackled around the witch, it all but thundered around the Priestess.
"You are the one who turned those soldiers, who hurt innocent children, and who basks in Darkness." Glissandi's voice rang out, serene and powerful. Lissa could feel how the men drew strength from that voice, standing up a bit straighter, faith filling their eyes.

The witch threw her head back and laughed. An eerily beautiful sound that made Lissa tense up and bring her own shield to bear. She could feel her instincts screaming at her that this woman was dangerous. She didn't find it strange that she thought of the witch as a woman, despite that the woman seemed even younger than Glissandi, who she thought of as a girl. After all, you didn't kill children.
"That I am," the witch replied. "And what are you going to do about it?" she asked, her voice just as musical as Glissandi's.
Lissa could swear she felt the ground tremble underneath her feet as Glissandi raised a single arm towards the witch and her eyes lit up like suns.
"Well," the Priestess began, gathering an insane amount of energy, "I am going to kill you."

Then the world went white.

A bolt of lightning struck an ancient tree and completely shattered it, followed a moment later by a thunderclap that sent the horses into a blind panic. Even though the weight of the carts impeded them and their handlers tried to pacify them and were walking alongside them, most of them made a run for it. They didn't get very far, as the narrow pathway through the dense woods was the only passable part. Men were run over as they made desperate and futile attempts to stop the stampede, their thick woollen coats swollen with the rain that fell from the skies in a continuous downpour. The frightened horses ran in all directions, often careering into each other or the carts as they did so, breaking legs and receiving gaping wounds as they did so. Within moments the previously orderly caravan was a horrid mess of wounded men and animals and destroyed vehicles. The merciless storm overhead cared naught for what was happening beneath it, and kept up its constant assault of wind, water and lightning.

In the midst of the mayhem stood a span of four oxen surrounded by an equal number of well-armed and well trained groomsmen. Behind those was a large wagon that had once upon a time been quite homely, but had since then sustained quite a beating. The paint was flaking off, the wood was damaged in multiple places, the iron parts were rusty and the wheel spokes had several cracks in them. Yet light still burned brightly behind the windows and it formed an island of calm inside the sea of chaos that surrounded it. The oxen held their peace, unperturbed by the horrid weather raging all around them, and the groomsmen were the very image of bored guards on a sunny day, their only reaction to the vengeful elements being to hide their faces deeply into their sturdy coats.

Inside the wagon a small army of servants tried and failed to look away from their master yelling at the guide. The man was tall, managed to be both fat and incredibly muscular at the same time, and was bellowing at the much smaller woman, who looked tiny in comparison. The woman lazily leaned on her long walking staff, her eyes glazing over the interior of the wagon. Everything about her spoke of utter disinterest in the man shouting down at her. The way she casually toyed with her long, hazel-brown hair, the dead look in her eyes and the yawns that kept escaping her lips. Only when a particularly strong flash of lightning lit up the sky did a spark of life return to her deep, brown eyes. A primitive, hungry look settled on her face for the briefest of moments as she observed the violent, wild and uncontrolled display of nature, before it disappeared along with the lightning itself.

"You're not even listening to me, are you!" the man shouted, bringing his hand down on her like a hammer. The woman was hit squarely on the cheek and was sent flying into an old armoire that broke under the impact. "You stupid bitch! My entire caravan's going up in splinters because of you!"
The woman carefully picked her way through the broken planks and got to her feet again. A bruise was forming on her cheek, but her eyes remained disinterested as they turned towards the man.
"I told you not to take this path, Rumbar. You didn't want to listen. Shame you didn't inherit a shred of your father's wits."
Rumbar stomped over towards her, anger flaring in his eyes. "Do not dare to talk about him, Sanguilia! I'm twice the man he is! Thrice! He didn't know how to run a business! Always wasting his money on frivolities! Never having the gall to cut costs where it was needed! He was an idiot! A buffoon! He was—"
"A man capable of keeping his caravan together," came Sanguilia's bored response as she prodded a rotten plank with her staff. "And he kept things in order."
The servants looked away as Rumbar smacked the woman again, sending the much smaller human flying into a closet, which was demolished as well.
Ignoring the blood running from several scratches on her face, Sanguilia grabbed a short plank with her fingers, before crumbling the rotten thing to dust. "See? You're so incompetent. I feel sorry for your father, really. Such a great man, yet he fathered such an inept clown like you." Her voice remained bored, as if the entire event wasn't anything that involved her.

Veins started throbbing on Rumbar's head as he threw himself at his guide with an incoherent scream of rage. He plucked her out of the debris as if she weighed no more than a kitten, her arms dangling limply beside her. Spit flew out of his mouth as he roared obscenities and explicit threats at her. The way he was violently shaking her, she seemed no more than a ragdoll, and still her eyes remained as dead and empty as before. As she refused to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction, he spit in her face and threw her onto the floor. She landed awkwardly on her arm, and it held for but a mere moment before it snapped with a sickening sound. She threw a casual glance towards it and used her other arm to lift up the broken limb. Bone protruded from it, pearly white mixed with red as blood seeped out of the wound.
"Damaged goods aren't worth much, you know?" she mocked him, the tiniest sliver of emotion sneaking into her voice. It was not pain, neither was it fear, nor anger. It didn't hint at any of those dark emotions. If Rumbar had any sanity left, he would have recognised it as amusement. Sadly enough, the man was way too far gone, buried under layers of pure anger, and had reverted purely to his baser instincts. He wanted to humiliate this woman, break her, see her cry and beg him for forgiveness. He would take everything from her, and it was well within his rights to do so! Forget that she was an independent guide who had safely steered the caravan through the wilds for over a decade, evading monsters and storms and traps alike! The look in his eyes changed from rage to lust as he saw the tears in her clothes and the skin underneath was revealed. He stepped over towards her and grabbed her again, not by the shoulders this time, but by her tunic. He leered openly at her as he pulled on it.

Life flared into Sanguilia's eyes in an instant and before Rumbar knew that something had changed, she had tightened her fingers together and rammed them deep into his throat and crushed his trachea. As the taller man crashed into the ground, fruitlessly gasping for air, Sanguilia stood up, her eyes still ablaze. She calmly patted the dust from her clothes before rearranging them for decency. Ignoring the thrashing form of her previous employer, she went to pick up her staff. The servants were peeking from their hiding spots, rooted to the ground with fear as their master's movement became increasingly infrequent as his air ran out, before he finally ceased moving altogether. Pulling her hood over her head, Sanguilia looked over at the man whose father she had served faithfully and loyally for a dozen years. Then she spat at his feet.
"I am not for you to touch."
She turned around and walked out of the wagon, hiding her broken arm within her cloak. She nodded towards the groomsmen standing watch at the oxen, and received curt nods in return. Everything that had transpired within the wagon had been silenced by the sound of the raging storm. A particularly strong gale of wind ripped her hood off her face, and she moved to put it back in place when a frighteningly powerful lightning bolt turned an immense tree into a smoking crater. A wild grin formed on her lips and flames of excitement danced in her eyes as she lowered her arm again, letting the rain wash over her face.

She smiled as she hopped off the wagon's platform, and with a determined tread she glided into the dense undergrowth, leaving the caravan behind. She didn't think twice about those she left behind. The storm would end within a day, she knew, and then they would die. Not far from these woods was a nest of Wyverns, and the caravan would be easy picking for the beasts, but that did not matter to her. This chapter of her life was over, and it was time to move to the next.




Sanguilia carefully picked her way through the dense growth, knowing there were numerous poisonous plants, thorns, and other unpleasant surprises hiding all around her. Water seeped through the cracks in the canopy of leaves high above her, countless droplets gathering in tiny streams that became small waterfalls thundering down between the branches, feeding the earth far beneath. Where the lightning and thunder failed to permeate the dense network of leaves, the water compensated, adding its unique symphony to the woods. It enthralled her. It made everything seem so alive. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, enjoying the streams falling down on her face, soaking her hair and seeping into her clothes. She felt how her body struggled to contain some heat, how it fought with the water for that precious warmth that a human needed to live, and how it failed. The corners of her lips twitched upwards and soon she found herself laughing out loud, arms stretched wide open. She twirled around until she noticed her broken arm disturbing her rhythm. She tilted it to get a better look at it, a flash of annoyance marring her young visage. It didn't feel right. Everything was alive, full of fire, of energy, of action and movement! The bone sticking from her damaged limb broke that spell, disrupted the weave that nature had carefully woven on the world. She grabbed it with her other hand and with a sharp move she snapped it back in place. Unseen by sentient eyes, a rain of green sparks danced across her arm, twirling around the wound before diving into it as she held the bones in place. She waited patiently until the last sparks were gone before stretching her arm out. She turned it, bent it, twisted and flexed it. When she was satisfied with how smoothly it moved again, she switched her attention back to the spectacle nature was bringing to bear. The smile returned to her lips and laughter to her eyes as she danced deeper into the forest with all the grace of a mystical nymph.

As she made her way through the dense undergrowth with more grace than even the most gifted ballet dancers, hardly a leaf that stirred at her passing. Her feet seemed to refuse to acknowledge the existence of roots, no matter how well hidden. Her arms twirled around her nimble frame as she treated trunks as old friends, dancing around them as if they were her partners in a mystical dance, and all the while letting out that delightful, childlike laugh. A sound of innocence, of wonder for the world. It intertwined with the music of the rain and formed a beautiful duet that seemed at home in the dark forest. It was neither gentle, nor wild. Neither slow, nor quick. It simply merged perfectly with what was, a true harmony between the force of nature and a single woman, dancing as if this was her place, her home.

She vaulted through the air as her legs carried her up, landing on a low branch and smiled warmly at an owl and its owlets. It looked at her from the safety of its nest, tilting its head as if it were curious about the creature that just landed on its doorstep.
"Hello there," she sang.
The owl hooted softly in response. Reassured that the creature meant no harm, it shook the damp from its feathers and adjusted its position to cover the owlets more properly.
She enjoyed herself. Her breath came out in short pants, more due to her excitement than the dancing. With every step she had taken, she had distanced herself more from her life as a guide, returning to the roots of her personality. She was free again, allowed to move as she wished, see as she wished, live as she wished!
"Hoot hoot," she whispered, before giggling.
The owl looked at her silently for a few moments, before giving a few hoots in return.
"That's right. You have a family to care for. Responsibilities. A home. Nice and warm. Meanwhile I'm wet and cold. Yet we both live and move, isn't that beautiful?"
She tilted her head and looked intensely at the owl, who returned her gaze with one its own. She slowly brought her hand up until it was in front of the nest. The owl kept looking straight into her eyes. She kept it there, holding it in place. Oh so carefully, she brought her hand forward until it rested on the owl's head. She scratched it, the smile on her face broadening. In a swift movement she brought her hand down, letting her fingers slide across the owl's feathers, down and down, until she reached the owlets. Without breaking eye contact, she plucked one from the protection of the nest and pulled it towards her. And still the owl didn't look away. It didn't move or make a sound.

Finally she broke eye contact, and moved her gaze onto the owlet, who was chirping in her hands. It was obviously cold and didn't like her wet hands surrounding it.
"That's right," she repeated, "you and I are alike. Both cold, and wet. Without the protection of those who gave us life. Carried by currents that we cannot go against. And yet..."
She looked up again, into the owl's eyes. It rustled its feathers, trying to look bigger, frightened by what it saw in the woman's eyes. Sanguilia's hands closed and the chirping stopped. The owl hooted once, then stopped.
"And yet we are nothing alike. I am not helpless and I am not adrift. I have both purpose and a goal. And I shall achieve them, no matter what life may throw at me. Every day I become more than I was before. Nothing will stop me. Not until I have what I so desire." Her voice was cold ice and sharp like crystal, cutting through the rain and silencing the storm around her.
"And until then," she said, the darkness that had covered her dissipating, "I shall enjoy life as much as I can. Because that is what I have been taught."
She opened her hand and smiled at the little owlet sleeping soundly in her now warm hands, a handful of sparks jumping out of their confinement and assaulting drops of rain as they came down, going up in bits of steam as they collided. She hooted at the owl as she placed the owlet back in its nest, gave it another gentle scratch on the head and launched herself off the branch, resuming her trek through the woods.


She needed to plan. Would she return to her master and report on what she had encountered? That was a silly question. Of course she would. The real debate was whether to return in a straight line, or to move as the currents took her. She recalled the map of the regions in her mind. The Woods of Aralbas were massive, but the caravan hadn't gone in too deep yet, and the road they had intended to take was fairly short. If she moved swiftly she knew she could be out and into the city of Tinas in a day or two. She could also take a detour to the hidden Kobold fort that was nearby, although chances were they wouldn't take kindly to a human. That would be interesting though. It had been a while since she met up with Kobolds and the creatures never failed to amuse her. They were quirky and loved playing pranks, something she had in common with them. Although they were equally likely to kill her on sight. That was a situation she'd rather avoid. Not that she didn't understand where they were coming from. Given how cults of the Lord had been spreading in the lands, with their fanatical desire to murder all who were not Men, she could even sympathise with that idea. Especially since those madmen had a strong base in Tinas and were rather forceful when it came to conversions and catching heretics.

She recapped her choices. Either she went to the fort and dealt with the Kobolds, who may or may not try to kill her on sight, or she went to Tinas, tried to explain why the caravan was not with her, and then would possibly have to deal with zealous fanatics trying to convert or kill her on sight. Both seemed equally interesting, but she honestly believed that the Kobolds were likely going to be the more reasonable of the two, despite that she had many friends in the city who would vouch for her. Humans tended to favour coin more than the people they befriended, whereas Kobolds had a strict code of honour.
She sighed deeply. She missed Lanas, her home city, or the next best thing to it, given that she didn't actually know where she was born. People had honour there, courtesy of her master. It had been fun growing up there. Incredibly harsh, and she had been scared, cried often and took more beatings than she could be bothered to remember, but it was home. A good home. The home her master had made. Her master... What would he do? Would he go to the Kobolds, or go to Tinas?

She stopped mid-stride and laughed out loud as she realised how stupid that question was. She had to go to Tinas eventually, just to pick up better means of transportation. So naturally she would go to the Kobolds first. The idea that she might die didn't bother her. It was part of the circle of life. People lived, and people died. Some more easily than others, but all would pass the border eventually. The finality of life made it worth living in the first place after all.

Laughing at the irony of that last statement, she set off towards the hidden fort. Finally she was free again. Finally she was going home.




The hours slid by unnoticed as Sanguilia made her way through the woods. The dense undergrowth did little to hamper her progress, as she was more than used to dealing with harsh terrain from her many years of experience as a guide. The miles slid by her as the storm overhead slowly passed her by, eventually exchanging the dark clouds for the black of night, countless stars replacing the rain. She shook off the final sparks as she finished using magic to bring her body temperature to more acceptable levels, enjoying the twirls of steam they caused as the last damp evaporated from her clothes. She paused shortly when she heard distant screams echo in the wind; the sound of Wyverns hunting, and knew that the caravan was about to meet a bloody end. She felt no guilt.

She focused on the way ahead instead, knowing that the fort was nearby. While she didn't know the exact location, there would be signs of habitation, hidden to everyone but those who knew what to watch out for. It didn't take her too long before she saw the signs. Kobolds were small, and were often thought of as dumb, or less intelligent as humans. Nothing could be further from the truth. They had a very different intelligence, but were more than a match for humanity's best and brightest. There were small markings on trees, applied with concoctions that gave off a foul smell, but were unnoticeable to most sentient beings. Animals, on the other hand, would avoid it like the plague. It was a great way to throw off the watch dogs the fanatics liked to use, and to keep their traps clear from the local wildlife, letting them set up a more lethal variant without fear of harming innocent creatures.

The traps became visible shortly after she crossed the first signs. Small discolorations in the grass and leaves showed the locations of deadly pitfalls. Branches that were just that tiny bit out of shape turned out to be hidden crossbows, their bolts undoubtedly poisoned. A seemingly rotten trunk hid a masterful piece of machinery that would be triggered if enough weight gathered around the pressure plate hidden underneath, causing it to launch large nails in every direction. A rather nasty and vicious surprise. It warned her however. The Kobolds were preparing for war. This visit would not start peacefully at all. She kept on, sidestepping traps as they came into view, carefully moving between them to avoid triggering both the physical ones and the much more dangerous magical ones. The ward spells were hardly visible, often turned upside down so a falling leaf or a drop of rain wouldn't set them off by accident. Insects knew better than to walk over such things; the pulse of stationary magic wasn't a pleasant sensation to them and so they steered well clear.

It was all good fun, really. She enjoyed herself. Traps that could kill her if she missed but the tiniest detail, wards that she could hardly sense lying underfoot, waiting to go off and take her to the underworld, and no doubt there were Kobold scouts that patrolled the area and would soon notice her. Her outfit, damaged as it was in ways that weren't caused by the wood itself, would obviously mark her as someone with no military connection, but she doubted that this would stop the Kobolds from piercing her with their infamous crossbows.

A sliver of movement drew her attention and she paused. She put her staff to the ground and leaned on it, the very image of a lazy, uncaring person. Which, in a way, she was. Her eyes quickly scanned the canopy and lower branches until she saw the scout. He was slowly raising his crossbow, trying to keep her from noticing. Or rather, trying to keep her from noticing the second one who was a few dozen feet to the right of him, stealthily readying his crossbow as well. They were good. They had recognised her as someone with scouting abilities and acted accordingly. How fun.

"You either put those crossbows down or I will put this staff where the sun doesn't shine and wave you around like a banner, she said. Her voice was calm. She didn't raise it, nor did she sound afraid. It was a statement, cold and clear, with a hint of amusement behind it that was far more visible in her twinkling eyes. The Kobolds paused, not so much because of what she had said, but because she had spoken their language.
The Kobolds looked at each other in confusion, before the second scout barked an order at the first. He raised his crossbow, pulled the trigger, and was promptly launched off the branch and into the bushes below. Sparks danced all across his crossbow as it bounced off the branch the Kobold had previously occupied only a moment ago, before tumbling to the ground.
I knew you lot had special weapons, but this is the first time I see a crossbow that shoots Kobolds rather than bolts. She laughed as she said it, her voice dancing through the forest. The first scout, who had held off shooting, looked at the display, too stunned for words. Then he connected the dots between Sanguilia's remark and the sparks and he threw his head back in laughter.

Several feet lower, Sanguilia had a broad grin on her face. Kobolds loved pranks, in any form, in any shape, and shifting the forces that launched a bolt onto the Kobold holding the weapon had been a very direct and practical form of that. The scout that had fallen down saw her approaching and desperately scrambled backwards at the sight of her, ignoring the thorns that tore at his vest and skin as he crawled away from her. His eyes went wide as saucers and he screamed with pure fear as she raised her staff and pointed the bottom end towards him. The near-maniacal glitter in her eyes further enhanced his panic.
"Alright human, that's enough. Or poor Lib'l will piss his pants if you keep it up." The Kobold easily climbed down from the branch he was on and disappeared into the bushes, before popping up less than a foot away from her.
"I'm Ab'li. Sorry for the harsh reception, but there have been quite a few longlegs that have been causing us trouble recently. We're pretty much at war with them, you see, he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
She let out a short, barking laugh. He was testing her with a pun humans wouldn't understand. Kobolds were masters of remaining unseen.
"I saw that, and you, and Lib'l" she replied, mimicking Ab'li's grin. She was rewarded with the sight of his face lighting up in a broad grin, revealing significantly more teeth than most humans were comfortable with.
"So what brings you to our home then? And where did you learn to speak our language? You speak it well, absurdly well for a human."
"I'm simply passing through. I was with a caravan. You may have heard of Rumbas?" She tilted her head, waiting to see if the name meant anything to him. When he nodded in response, she continued.
"He died in an accident recently, and his son took over. I was their guide. He was an idiot however, unlike his father, and ignored my advice. He took us all through the forest. I abandoned them before the storm ended and the Wyverns flew out. So I'm currently making my way to Tinas, where I'll probably end up having trouble with the same longlegs that trouble you, but I knew your fort was on the way there, so I decided to drop by. I haven't met up with your kind since I left Grads'Krl ages ago."
"You have visited Grads'Krl?" Ab'li asked, his tone incredulous. "The Fortress of our King?"
"I have. I was sent there to learn about you. Your culture, language, magic, everything really. It was a very pleasant time, and I taught many little children that sewer water can reverse direction mid-flight." She smiled. Those were fond memories. The adults abided by their king's orders to respect the envoy, but the children very clearly believed that since she was there to study their culture, she also had to experience their pranks. She had fallen for a fair number of them, but had rapidly adapted and turned the tables on them. In the end they had made peace with one another, and during the last months of her stay, they had become a true scourge of terror that haunted the inhabitants of the fortress, the ingenuity of children mixed with her ability proving to be an endless source of original and unexpected pranks and traps.

"That's a very impressive story you tell there, human. Allow me to reintroduce myself the way it behaved a Kobold welcoming a guest from the Hold. I am Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate. I welcome you to Kras'vt and offer you the hospitality of me and my kin." He made a short bow, ignoring the unbelieving and confused looks his companion was giving him.
Sanguilia bowed in turn and made sure her head went lower than the smaller being.
"I am Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is. I am humbled by your warm words and shall gracefully accept your hospitality. My body and mind are at your service while I share your halls. She spoke the words with care, recalling them from a past long behind her. Kobolds loved pranks, and they were known for both that and their crossbows, which were the stuff of legends, but they had a much broader history that was well hidden to all but a select few that did not belong to their race. They would consider the words the two of them had just spoken as an oath. No harm would befall her and they would share all they had with her. They would honour her as a guest, and in return she would follow their rules and treat her hosts with respect. The last part of the phrase was more important than most people could imagine, and she knew very well that they would quietly watch to see if she abided by it. Body and mind. If those in the fort required help of her, or she saw an issue that was within her ability to solve, they would expect her to do so without being asked. It was a complicated and convoluted code.

As Ab'li kicked Lib'l up and shouted at him to start guarding again, Sanguilia couldn't keep a childlike smile from her face. Most people would think the life of a guide was interesting, but after more than a decade she had grown oh so tired of it. Now she was doing interesting things again, learning new things rather than mastering old ones. As she walked beside her much shorter guide and happily engaged in small talk with him, she let part of her mind wander.
Life, she considered, was good once more.




Sanguilia followed her guide towards the well-hidden fort. Ab'li had gone largely silent and was busy waving off groups of guards that came up to him to ask about her, which was quite understandable, given their current war with the fanatics and her showing up. She did notice that Ab'li consistently failed to mention that she was fluent in their language though, and took great care to phrase it so that it would seem that she wasn't able to understand a word of what was being said. She had caught on immediately and had given him a sly smile when they had passed the third group of guards. He nearly failed to get his face back under control when the next group had shown up, obviously giddy with the idea of being able to play a good prank on his fellows.

She was impressed with the amount of security and how well-oiled the outer defences were. Small groups of around half a dozen Kobolds were patrolling the area in tight patterns, with many more scouts guarding the outer perimeter, working in pairs. If they used their usual tactics, one would engage and delay, while the other would silently call for backup. The patrols would take up defensive positions and further delay the enemy, while the larger contingents that were stationed at outposts would take to the trees and prepare to rain down death and disease on their foes. Kobolds may be small in stature, but in their natural habitat they were fierce fighters and they played to their strengths and weakness perfectly.

As they reached the outpost, Ab'li exchanged a small greeting with a Kobold who distinguished himself from his fellows by the large golden earring that pierced his long, pointed ear. Sanguilia frowned, before remembering that it was a sign of rank used by their Guards. That made little sense. The Guards were a specific type of their military that was rarely deployed outside the walls of the fort, as opposed to the Hunters, such as Ab'li. She leaned on her staff, pretending to be patient and waiting for her host to finish his chat, and started eavesdropping.

"I'm telling you, Lik'r, she can be trusted. She's visited the halls of the King himself!" Ab'li said, raising his voice. Annoyance dripped out of it.
"I don't care. She's human, so she's an enemy! What did you think, bringing a foe to our homes! Has your mind cracked from all those dorberries you so love to eat? Or did she bribe you?" Lik'r responded.
That wasn't good. She didn't care much about the two dozen crossbows that were casually held by the Kobolds behind him, nor that they were pointed in her general direction without being directly aimed at her, but Lik'r was dangerously close to insulting her host's honour, and that would end in blood.
Ab'li folded his arms and gave a cold, menacing stare that caused Lik'r to take a step back despite himself.
"She is our guest. We exchanged the official greetings. Do you dare question my right to invite a guest, Lik'r, Guardian of the West Gate?"
Lik'r seemed to be taken aback by that statement. It was all but a challenge for Kobolds. He would either bow down and lose face, or he would end up having a duel. To the death.
She could see the muscles in Ab'li's arms start to bulge as he moved his hand to the heft of his knife.
"Well?" he hissed through his teeth.
Pearls of sweat formed on Lik'r's head, slowly rolling down his face as he considered his answer. If she had to take a guess, it would be unlikely that he'd back down. He was simply calculating his chances of winning. She knew his type. Angry, full of blind hate against humans. Similar to the fanatics who fought for the Lord, really. It was rare to see one in a position that high though. She fully ignored the Kobolds behind him and focused solely on the pair facing off. Slowly but surely, Lik'r's hand slid towards his own short sword.

"Traitor!" he screamed, and attacked. He pulled his sword in a move that spoke of his abilities and experience, and Ab'li barely managed to get his knife out. She knew that it would be hard to parry a sharp thrust, and both of the combatants knew it as well. Lunging forward, Lik'r brought his sword up against the knife, slid past it and aimed to perforate Ab'li with a single attack. Time seemed to slow as the blade neared his skin. It crept closer, inch by inch, and then a rain of sparks crashed into the blade and tore it to pieces, simply evaporating it. Lik'r's eyes went wide as saucers as he lost his balance and fell forward, and Ab'li struck before he could recover, bringing his knee up and smashing it straight into his opponent's face. His head bounced back a bit from the impact, but the rest of Lik'r's body continued to fall down. Ab'li adjusted his stance and stabbed his knife into the ground, against the skin of Lik'r's neck.
"You dare attack me like that! I should cut off your limbs one by one and feed you to the ants you mongrel! Ab'li shouted, more outraged by the lack of proper procedure than the attack itself.
"Ab'li." She could hold her tongue no longer. She had interfered earlier, out of obligation, and this was no different. Muttering erupted from the other Kobolds as she walked over to the pair. Ab'li regained his self-control and took a step back from his downed foe. Lik'r grunted as he regained his senses. Before he could get his act together, however, Sanguilia delicately wrapped her fingers around his neck. He reached for them, too out of it to understand what was happening. The fingers tightened into a steel ring as she clasped them shut. Standing up, not bothered by his weight in the slightest, she raised him until his feet were dangling well off the ground. She looked him dead in the eyes and could see panic starting to form in his mind as he met her cold, unforgiving stare.
"On the invitation of Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, I enter this hold as his guest. In turn, I serve the hold with body and mind while I share your halls, she stated. She kept the tone of her voice official, oratory. Yet her fingers slowly tightened more and more with each word that passed her lips.
"Lik'r, Guardian of the West Gate, do you deny Ab'li's right to invite a guest into the hold? Do you deny me these rights? Do you deny that I am a guest, invited in by one of your kin?" She added a layer of ice to her voice, her gaze taking on the cold of death as she asked it of him, as she dared him to defy her and her host.

Lik'r gasped for breath, and fruitlessly struggled against her hand as it closed more and more. His breath came out in short gasps, but didn't go back in. His face started turning purple, but he started shaking his head, desperate for breath and relief. His trousers coloured damp with wetness and a sour odour filled the area as his bladder control gave out.
Not easing up on her grasp but ceasing to crush his throat further, Sanguilia turned toward Ab'li, who was watching the exchange with a stare that he tried to keep neutral. He met her eyes and found no emotion in there, only dedication to the rules she had just enforced. He pondered the situation for a moment, ignoring Lik'r's desperate gurgles, and nodded once, solemnly.
Sanguilia turned back towards the Kobold in her hand, who was now turning blue, and dropped him. He fell to the ground, his hands reaching for his throat while he gasped in air as if it was sweet ambrosia.
"Go in peace," she whispered.

Lik'r heard the words and looked up just in time to see Sanguilia's staff come down on him like lightning. He felt a sharp pain burn through his skull, and then nothing.




A Kobold Guard pushed both Sanguilia and Ab'li into the main hall of the fort, where the Maester and the Circle resided. Sanguilia probed her memory, and recalled that the Maester was a position of practical power, not associated with combat ability, physical prowess or magical affinity, but instead was given to the Kobold who would be the most capable of running the Hold in its entirety. It was comparable to a human administrator with the absolute authority of a king. The Circle consisted of the eldest, and therefore most wise, Shamans of the Hold. The number of Shamans in the Circle were indicative of the size of the Hold. Given how she saw six Shamans standing behind the throne, she realised that the Hold was bigger than she had thought at first glance. Each Shaman in the Circle represented roughly three to four hundred Kobolds, meaning that there lived around two thousand inhabitants in the fort.

She hadn't been surprised when the other Guards had taken both her and her host into custody. Although custody was too strong a word. They had been formally invited to come along, and her captors would remain friendly and polite, unless she refused. Standard procedure, really. She had killed Lik'r and had good cause for that. He had launched a surprise attack, without stating his full name and title, challenging Ab'li using his full name and title, openly refuted Ab'li's right to have her as a guest, while naming her by her full name and title. By the Flows of Life, Kobolds were so formal that getting anything done through proper channels could drive a person up the walls.
She knew she wasn't in any trouble. Lik'r had forfeited his life when he diverged from proper procedures, and the only reason his death was swift was because he retracted his accusation towards Ab'li at the end, and because Ab'li had accepted that retraction. For roughly three foot tall creatures with long noses, pointy ears and fuzzy hairballs on their head, they really weren't as cute and harmless as they looked.

Sanguilia's eyes wandered around the main hall. It was amazing how much Kobolds could do with trees, given time. People often credited Elves with the ability to grow wood into any shape, and while she had not had the chance to meet any Elves herself, her master having always sent her out in completely different directions, she doubted that the long-ears had the same practical approach to it. The main hall was made from hundreds of trees that had grown around one another in the shape of walls, before converging on the top and merging into a single, massive trunk. From the outside it looked as if the tree had swallowed a massive rock and the ground wouldn't take it. Where Elves liked to grow their buildings far from the ground, Kobolds were more practical, less elegant, and kept their homes firmly planted on solid soil, the roots forming surprisingly flat floors.

There was little in terms of decoration or furniture. There was the throne, plenty of seats that were either in use or stacked against the walls, and what little furniture that was present in the room was purely practical. A few tables, closets, a handful of bookshelves. Light seeped in from magically altered ivy that grew across the ceiling. Kobold Shamans were often seen as incapable of using magic, but that was human folly. They were indeed quite incapable of anything that involved mobile magic, so to speak, but they were masters when it came to stationary magic. Wards, growing trees and manipulating plants, traps, there were few creatures who could match them in those fields.

Her attention was drawn when she felt a sudden urge to roll her eyes and found that the Guard accompanying her and Ab'li had knelt in front of the throne and started speaking with a clear baritone, announcing their presence. She suppressed her desire to yawn and braced herself for another round of formalities.
"Maester Jas'tra of Hold Kras'Vt, your servant Lob'i, Guardian of the West Gate and Keeper of Inner Peace stands before you. I bring you Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, along with a human he proclaims as his guest, Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is. During their approach to the Hold they were stopped by Lik'R, Guardian of the West Gate, who insulted Ab'li's honour and insinuated that Ab'li had no right to invite a guest in. Ab'li reacted honourably and spoke the words to open a Duel, but Lik'r failed to respond in kind and launched an attack without voicing his desire for a duel. Upon this, Sanguilia intervened and directly caused Lik'r's death, after proclaiming her identity as Ab'li's guest and speaking the words of servitude to the Hold in exchange for hospitality. The three of us have gathered in front of you to let you decide on whether or not their actions were just and fair."

Knowing very well that any signs of annoyance would be a seen as a grave insult to them, Sanguilia had to content herself by gnashing her teeth in silence. She had enjoyed life with Kobolds before, and found them pleasurable company, but by the Flows, their procedure and need for formality grew more annoying by the minute.

The Maester looked down from his throne towards the kneeling Guard and gave a response that was just as formal as the speech of Lob'i had been.
"As you have asked, so shall I judge. Let it be known that I, Maester Jas'tra of Hold Kras'Vt, have heard the tale from my servant Lob'i, Guardian of the West Gate and Keeper of the Inner Peace, involving Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, who stands before me; involving Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is, who stands before me, and involving Lik'r, Guardian of the West Gate, who does not stand before me on the account of being deceased."
The Maester turned his attention from Lob'i towards Ab'li, who had been patiently standing at attention. Upon seeing the Maester's gaze on him, he bowed.
"Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, your name is known to me. Your Maester asks of you, my faithful servant, is which my servant Lob'i, Guardian of the West Gate and Keeper of the Inner Peace reports, correct?"
Ab'li straightened himself again, swelling with pride at being called a faithful servant, rather than just a servant. When he spoke, he did so with a strong, clear voice that resonated through the hall. Maester Jas'tra of Hold Kras'Vt, your faithful servant Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate stands before you. That which your servant Lob'i, Guardian of the West Gate and Keeper of the Inner Peace reports is true. While on our usual scouting trip, my younger colleague and I, your servant Lib'l, Feather of the Hunters, encountered the lone human Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is. Despite being hidden, she had spotted us immediately and had, prior to that, been easily evading all the traps that fill the border between the woods and our Hold."

Sanguilia let her thoughts drift off, only paying attention with a fraction of her mind. She had lived through those events, hearing them recapped in such a dreary, formal manner bored her to tears. She would have preferred watching grass grow. She started thinking of cider instead. Every race she had encountered so far had their own specialty when it came to alcoholic beverages, and Kobolds were the undisputed masters when it came to brewing cider. She felt that familiar nagging in the back of her head when she thought of it, her master didn't approve of drinking anything intoxicating, even if her mind was incredibly resilient and she didn't get drunk easily. She suppressed the urge to smile when she remembered how her master had reacted when he had caught her drinking in secret. After a training session that could only be described as pure torture, he had spent over a year doing nothing but providing her with every type of liquor there was, from the very worst to the very best. He had not scolded her for her choice to drink, nor had he forbidden her from drinking. Instead he had trained her how to deal with alcohol, how it would affect her behaviour, to distinguish flavours, and so many things that by the end of the it all she had nearly promised herself that she'd never touch a drop ever again. She had, however, abstained from drinking for quite some time after that lesson. It had been a very informative experience, but not exactly a pleasant one.

Her attention fluttered back towards the present just in time to hear Ab'li finish up the story.
"After that, Lob'i and the other Guardians, your servants, decided it was the most wise course of action if our tale was brought to you, for you and your wisdom to decide if we acted fairly or not."
The Maester brought up a hand and Ab'li bowed again, before taking a few steps back until he stood alongside Lob'i.
"I have heard your tale, Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, and shall take it into consideration. Sanguilia, Traveller of the World, Apprentice of He Who Is and guest of Ab'li, my faithful servant, and of Hold Kras'Vt. As guest of our Hold, do you know and respect our customs? Will you answer and honour me as Maester as if you were my servant?"
She stepped forward, until she was but a few feet away from the throne. She held the old Kobold's gaze for a moment and looked him over, appraising him as much as he was her. She smiled, warmly, and she could feel that it reached her eyes. She bowed towards the old Kobold and spoke, her voice clear as rain and weaving a warm melody through the hall as her tongue twisted itself into unfamiliar shapes to produce the strange sounds that were part of the Kobold language.
Maester Jas'tra of Hold Kras'Vt, I, Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is stands before you as guest of Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate. I stand before you as your servant and will honour you and your hospitality. My body and mind are at your service while I share your halls."
The Maester gave a curt nod and she raised herself to her full height again, looking slightly down on the Maester. He gave her a friendly, toothy smile and motioned for her to continue.

As she told her version of the events, she found the boring, repetitive formalities a lot easier to tolerate with the Maester smiling at her. She could tell he was a kind man, who disliked war and was happy to have a guest. Upon hearing her confirm that she had stayed in the halls of the Kobold King, his eyes twinkled like stars in a clear sky. As she continued on and told how her promise to serve in body and mind forced her to interfere, his face took on a dark scowl as she recounted just how Lik'r had betrayed his kin with his unprovoked insults and assault. When she mentioned how she had dissolved his sword, the Circle of Shamans stirred to attention, but was silenced by a short gesture from the Maester.
When she was finally done she could tell by the look on the Maester's face that everything would end precisely as near all those involved had predicted. He rose from his throne and nodded solemnly at the trio in front of him, as Ab'li and Lob'i joined her to stand in a single, formal line, which was slightly disharmonious due to her being nearly twice as tall as the Kobolds beside her.
"Let it be known that I, Maester Jas'tra of Hold Kras'Vt, find that Lob'i, Guardian of the West Gate and Keeper of the Inner Peace, Ab'Li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West and Sanguilia, Traveller of the World and Apprentice of He Who Is, have spoken true and acted justly. Let it also be known that she is our guest and will honour our customs. In turn, we shall provide her with our hospitality and see that she wants for naught. So I declare. So shall it be."
"Hear! Hear!" the Circle chanted behind him.

The formalities done, Sanguilia didn't even have time to blink before she was rushed by a flood of Kobold as the Maester and the Circle abandoned their stately positions to storm her with questions, handshakes and curious prodding. The former two she didn't mind so much, but when the Shamans started to become a bit too liberal with their curiosity and their strange imaginings that prodding would somehow explain her abilities, she sent the entire group floating in a whirl of sparks. Amidst cries of amazement the Maester did his best to call the Shamans to order, and only succeeded after Sanguilia resorted to shaking them until they were too occupied with keeping their meals down.
"I have no qualms answering your questions," she began, a mischievous twinkle playing in her eyes that was mirrored by the Maester. "But I do believe there are certain establishments were a weary traveller might wet her throat before speaking in length about such serious matters, are there not?"
The Maester burst out laughing and several of the Shamans, who were currently floating upside down, started nodding enthusiastically. As the sparks dissipated and the group either landed or crashed into the floor, Sanguilia started walking towards the exit, the Maester keeping pace behind her, being one of the lucky few who landed feet rather than head-first. Dusty formalities soon forgotten, she found herself gossiping amicably with the old Kobold as they made for the bar and some badly needed refreshments.

Faen peeked nervously from underneath the sail of the wagon. His wings were folded alongside his body as he tried to keep himself from shivering in fear. Two wagons further ahead were the eight guards of the merchant train arguing with people from the fanatical group Flame of the Lord, overly zealous believers of a god from somewhere. They claimed they fought for good, for the Light, for more of that crap. In reality they were well armed thugs that simply slaughtered anyone who was not human, who didn't properly convert and revere their Lord, or who made the mistake of opposing them. He could see his friend Daenan stand in front of the leader of the fanatics, shielding the leader of their small caravan, Marcus, with his much larger body. Faen tried to get a better look without leaving the safety of the wagon. If those madmen spotted him, they would slaughter everyone on the spot. He could see at least a dozen of them, but he knew there were more. He just prayed that they wouldn't find out what Daenan was, or their heads would roll as well. Faen knew he wouldn't be able to escape afterwards. They'd just take the wagons in their entirety and roll them back to their base in Tinas, and they'd find him eventually. Unbidden thoughts bubbled to the forefront of his mind. Would his death be quick? Would they pluck his wings, torture him, make his passing slow and agonising?

"L-like I s-said, g-good sir, we a-are but h-humble m-merchants. I-I am b-but a humble m-merchant. T-these are m-my guards, g-good sir!" Marcus stammered. He held his hat in his hands, his fingers plucking at the seams as he nervously looked up at the tall commander.
"Is that so? Yet you seem awfully short for a Man. Are you sure you are not a mixture? A half-breed of some sort? You are aware that those who follow the Lord, those who have sworn their souls to the Light, cannot abide the presence of inhuman monsters, who can only serve the Dark, don't you, humble merchant?" the commander asked, spitting the last words. His hand was resting on the handle of his blade, his fingers drumming a melody while he stared menacingly at the smaller man. The men around him laughed darkly. The commander looked around, observing both the positions of his men and of the caravan guards. He wasn't worried. A few of his men had their swords out already, and of the rest there were none who didn't have their hands near their blades. A few measly guards were not a threat. Not even the big one up front.

Daenan smiled from underneath his helmet, towering a solid two heads over the tall commander. He let out a short laugh, seeming to be perfectly at ease. He was different from the other guards, not only by his sheer size, but also by his equipment. Where the members of the Flame were wielding swords and mail hauberks, and the guards carried a motley of leather brigandines  and wielded everything from short daggers to spears, Daenan was coated in full plate armour and had a large war hammer slung across his back. It was a very unusual and unlikely outfit given his occupation, and that image was further enhanced by the short mace strapped to his hip, as well as the simple thing that both weapons were purely made of metal, as opposed to wood.
"You shouldn't mock poor Marcus, sir," he spoke, his deep, rough voice rumbling out of his helmet. "He's only that short because he keeps bowing endlessly for every potential customer he sees and as a consequence it has stumped his growth." He let out a laugh that filled the air, and was soon joined by the other guards after a brief moment.

The thugs from the Flame lost a bit of their confidence. People were supposed to be cowed when they saw them. To quiver in fear lest they strike them down with the Lord's righteous fury! They were not supposed to crack jokes of their own.
"And who—" the commander asked, gesturing towards Daenan with the hand not resting on his sword hilt, "might you be?"
Daenan had to give the man credit. Despite having to look up a fair bit just to make eye contact, the man didn't flinch.
"My name is Daenan, sir."
"That does not sound like a local name to me, Daenan." The commander grinned as he could feel his men changing positions, getting ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
"It is not, sir," came the easy reply. "I am from quite far away. Kind Marcus found me when I was wandering in the mountains I had succeeded in getting myself lost. It was a desolate place and I was starving, but the Lord saw it fit to not let his servant die just yet and guided Marcus to find me."

The commander blinked, completely taken off guard.
"You—" he stammered, taking several steps back, unsure of whether or not to draw his blade.
"You call upon His name?"
Daenan stepped forward and seemed to grow in size, a not dismissable feet given that he already towered over everyone else. When he spoke his voice was low and threatening. "Of course I call on His name. Would a Paladin do otherwise?"
The commander all but soiled his pants. "A paladin!" he squeaked.
"Of the Order of the Eagle. You may have heard of us, sir." His voice was mocking now, and the commander suddenly seemed to have shrunk so much even small Marcus appeared taller.
"O-o-o-of course I have sir! T'is an honour! I— I am so sorry to have inconvenienced you, I did not expect a Paladin to be travelling with merchants!" The commander saluted, and about half of his troupe did the same. The others looked at the interaction with doubts in their eyes, observing both the 'Paladin' and the merchant guards, who seemed equally surprised at the revelation as their commander was.

One tall, thin man stepped forward, his eyes sparkling with an unnatural red light.
"Commander, we must not remiss in our duties."
This shook the man out of his reverie. "You are right, you are right. I must apologise, sir Paladin, but we must still follow our orders. We must check everyone who enters the city. I am afraid I must kindly request that you take off your helmet for that, sir."

A sudden silence fell over the two groups as Daenan froze. The man behind the commander tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Then Daenan started moving his hands towards his face, slowly. The guards seemed to hold their breaths, and inside one of the wagons, Faen was paralysed with fear while soundlessly mouthing 'no' over and over again. Daenan's hands paused as he reached his helmet.
"Before I take my helmet off, sir, I must ask that you hear me out first." He paused and waited for the commander to nod before continuing.
"When I was scouting the lands for signs of Darkness, I encountered a foul, magical being. A witch. She had been aware of my passing and had set up an ambush, along with her cohorts. She was strong and capable and her henchmen were enhanced and hidden by her dark arts. Despite my abilities and training, I failed to see their trap and their ambush succeeded. Yet the denizens of the Dark cannot hope to prevail against the Light, and I managed to vanquish them, the Lord's strength flowing through my arm and guiding my blows. Alas, in her final breath she placed a curse on me that I at first dismissed as nonsense, believing her to merely sustain her evil ways until her last breath. I was mistaken. Her curse took root, and I have not yet found a way to break it. It is a shame I bear, and until I can break this curse, I have vowed not to return to my brethren, lest I bring shame upon my Order."

The entire group, the guards, Marcus, Faen and the men of the Flame alike were enraptured by the tale and the way Daenan brought it, his emotions colouring his voice and bringing forth unbidden feelings in all those who heard it. With a soft click he unfastened his helmet and with a determined move, he brought it upwards, revealing his face.

Stunned silence reigned for several moments.

Then the man standing behind the commander hissed, took a step forward and pointed accusingly at Daenan. His finger aimed at Daenan's face. It was green, with pitch black hair on top, and large fangs protruding from his lower lips.
"You are an Orc!"




Faen watched the scene enfold from his cover. His wings, nearly as large as his own body, were buzzing in a way not dissimilar to those of a fly. His thin fingers were clenched tightly on the edge of the wagon and they were all that kept him from taking off in a desperate attempt to run. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them. The accusing finger pointed squarely at Daenan's face, who looked down on the man, unfazed by the accusation. The commander of the Flame troops seemed unsure of who to look to, switching between Daenan and the accuser. Faen felt his heart skip a beat when a scowl formed on his friend's face, and he gave the thin man such a condemning stare that the man took several steps backwards, a shiver visibly running across his back.

"Given the average level of intelligence possessed by an Orc, maybe I ought to return that accusation."
Daenan took a step forward and brought his own arm up, a single finger pointing threateningly at the thin man, who responded by retreating even further and throwing panicked looks at his comrades for support.
"How many Orcs have you faced, I wonder? Have you ever gone toe-to-toe with them? Saw their brutish, raw strength up close? Had to survive their crude maces? To pierce their crude armour that seemed as if it was held together by spittle and misplaced belief alone? Heard their guttural grunts as they charged? Had to plan around their wild, blind ferocity as they disregarded tactical sense for a frontal charge? Saw them break an ambush because they grew impatient and decided to rush an enemy? No, forget all that. Just answer me this single, simple question, and do try to use your brain for once. When was the last time you saw an Orc stand still, or even saw one that was capable of stringing enough words together to form a proper sentence?"
"I..." came the stuttering response. The other thugs of the Flame looked away from their comrade, leaving him alone to face the giant, well-armed man with the face of an Orc.
Daenan took another step, closing in on the man.
"Who has ever heard of an eloquent Orc!" he shouted, accompanying his words with broad gestures. "They are fearsome! They are stronger than us! Faster than us! Meaner! More cruel! Yet for all that they lack the qualities that the Lord has bestowed on us! Intelligence! Wisdom! The ability to help those weaker than us rather than treat them as food! To look beyond our primitive desires and build up a civilisation and reap the benefits of what such civilisation brings us! Order! Peace! Wealth! Technology! Discipline! You accuse me, me! A Paladin of the Order, no less, of being a vile, low beast, that isn't capable of understanding the benevolence of Him? Would you deny that I serve Him? Would you claim that you are my superior? That you know the enemy better than I? Do you dare question my honour? To proclaim that I am a liar who would falsely take up His name? That I would break my oaths and spread falsehoods, despite being sworn to uphold the truth?"
With every new accusation that he brought up, Daenan advanced on the thin man who had, in his haste to get away from the Paladin, fallen over and was now crawling backwards. Daenan's face was positively furious now. During his speech he had gradually shown signs of anger, which had rapidly increased until his emotions had transitioned well past that and turned into unbridled fury.

The commander and the rest of the Flame had all backed away from Daenan as well, their swords forgotten in their sheaths or lieing abandoned on the ground. Many had their hands clasped together and were muttering prayers.
In the midst of them all stood Daenan, appearing as an angel of wrath, descended from heaven to bring divine judgement to the heathens and disbelievers.
"M-My Lord! I'm sorry! Please! I was wrong, forgive me! Have mercy on me, by the Lord, I beg of you!!" the man stuttered, his eyes wide with fear.
Daenan wasn't having any of it. He crossed the remaining distance in a few long strides and picked the man up by the throat, anger burning in his eyes.
"Mercy? Mercy?! You dare ask for mercy after accusing me of being an Orc! After calling me a liar! I am a Paladin! A servant of the Lord of the highest level! My devotion to Him is unmatched and yet you dared to question it! And you dare ask for mercy? You are a blind man, not worthy of the gift of life that He gave to you! You are less than a worm! Less than excrement! You dare take His name into your mouth after accusing His servant of being the same race as those disgusting monsters that serve the Dark? You have no right! You are a blight to all Men! To all those who serve Him! You claim to be one of His believers, yet you tout such nonsense!"

Daenan's voice thundered across the clearing shaking the thin man with every new syllable. His eyes were lit with zealous fire, and his green lips were pulled back in anger, revealing rows of sharp teeth. The target of his wrath was panicking wildly now, screaming unintelligible things. A damp stream was forming on his lower body, spreading in all directions as his legs flailed wildly.
Then Daenan's tirade stopped as his gaze bored deeply into the man's eyes and mind. The flailing stopped, but the thin man's eyes went even wider, his face turning as pale as snow. Silence reigned over the clearing for an instance, before Daenan spoke.
"By the name of the Lord," he began, his voice calm and cold, yet at the same time it was tightly wound, as a spring, "you do not deserve to live."
A look of pure panic contorted the man's visage, freezing him in place. He gasped loudly. Once. Twice.
Slowly, as if it was an act, the man's limbs went limp. His hands stopped holding onto Daenan's outstretched arm. His arms fell down, hanging motionlessly alongside his body. His head lolled back as his eyes took on that look that all corpses shared.

Daenan opened his hand and the dead man fell to the ground, his corpse folding on itself as it landed. The tall man reached out for his helmet and with a quiet yet unsettling thunk he put it on, hiding his Orcish visage once again. He turned to the commander, who was gaping at him, mouth and eyes wide open, frozen with shock.
"Commander. We will depart for the city now. I bid you good luck with your hunt for disbelievers and heretics."
He started walking towards the city, ignoring everyone else. As he came level with the commander, he paused. Without turning to look at him, he growled from underneath his helmet.
"I would encourage you to make sure that every man serving you is a true believer. And if I am bothered again, by you, your men, or any other of your group, I can guarantee you that my actions of today will be a kindness compared to the holy fury I will unleash then."

Not waiting for an answer, Daenan continued, walking away from the group in stately strides. The guards exchanged confused looks with Marcus, before they all rushed back to the wagons and quickly chased after Daenan, leaving the stunned group of the Flame behind. It wasn't until the merchant and his people had completely gone from sight that the group dared stir. The commander fell to his knees and closed his eyes, offering a truly heartfelt thanks to the Lord that He had spared them from His wrath.


Faen slipped out from underneath the sail of the wagon he had been hiding in and flew towards his friend, who had retaken his position in the formation. He buzzed next to him at head-height in silence for some time, pondering the events that had just transpired.
"Are you really a Paladin?" the fairy asked with a small voice.
Daenan paused, the caravan following suit a moment later. Daenan could feel the gaze of the guards, the tiny fairy and Marcus on him. He kept them in suspense momentarily, grinning broadly underneath his helmet, before responding.
"Of course I'm not!" he shouted, barking a loud laugh.
"Being a part of the Order, me, hah. What a joke!"
The small merchant train continued on, a semblance of normalcy returning to them. Jokes were shared, mostly at the expense of the thugs, but there was a worry in the air that their situation would become more troublesome once they reached Tinas. Yet they trusted Daenan. He was their friend and long-time companion, and he was as dependable as stone.

Faen cast a broad smile at his friend as one of the guards was busy exaggerating the tale of how the thin man had pissed himself, yet underneath that smile he hid his doubts.
Who was Daenan really? Or perhaps the better question was not who he was, but what?




The wagon train had managed to enter Tinas without problem. The guards posted at the gates were the ones that always manned them and had easily recognised Marcus. The tiny merchant was quite memorable, tiny as he was and always accompanied by the huge, heavily armoured Daenan. They had rushed them aside as soon as they spotted them, giving them warnings about the armed zealots that now ruled the city and patrolled it. Their looks turned from worry to outright fear when Marcus told them that they had already met them. It wasn't unknown that Marcus travelled with an Orc and a Faerie, but while the humans from the borderlands traded openly with all, the zealots would gleefully tear them apart. Luckily enough they asked no further questions about the encounter and under the pretense of the usual inspection of goods the guards had exchanged information with the small, humble merchant and given them directions to a part of the town where they would be able to stay without attracting the attention of the fanatics. Marcus had thanked them and given them some coins in return, but the sad look on his face told him he was less than happy about their forced relocation. Marcus knew every inn for miles around, and as calm and docile as he usually was, he could get incredibly passionate when food was involved.


Daenan had decided to err on the side of caution for the night and was laying on the bed in his room rather than remaining downstairs with the others. He regretted it. He much preferred to be around others. He wasn't alone though, but Faen's constant and literal buzzing around didn't do much to pacify his annoyance. The large mug of beer had helped, but had been emptied all too soon. So had the other two.
"Faen, by my honour, stop flying about like that or I will smack you like a big bug."
"How can you be so calm!" the Faerie squeaked back. "We're in the middle of a town full of zealots! They'll tear us apart if they find out about us! What will you do if you can't lie your way through a group of them?"
Daenan patted the warhammer leaning against the bed he was sitting on while throwing the Fairie a lazy grin.
"Violence doesn't solve everything!"
"Solved everything up to now though."
"I— You— Aaah!" the Faerie threw his arms up in exasperation, before flying over towards his friend and starting to hammer him on the head with his fists. "You absolute idiot! There's hundreds of them here! Do you hear me? Hundreds! You can't take them on! What are you going to do when they show up with crossbows?"
"Probably turn myself into a pincushion and take a few more with me, I guess," came the response. Daenan shrugged, as if the image didn't perturb him.
"You idiot!" the Faerie shouted again. Realising that hitting his friend on the head did absolute nothing except draw a broad, toothy grin from him, the Faerie ceased his assault and slowly sank to the ground. "At least distract them for long enough so I can escape." He threw a weak smile at his tall friend.
Daenan nodded. "Reckon I can manage that. Think if I throw a cart at them they'll be suitably distracted?"
"Like that time in Lurgassi?"
"Oh yeah. That was fun."
"That wasn't fun you jackass! We actually had to restrain Marcus or he'd try to skin you alive!"
"He what now? How come I never knew that bit?"
"Because you were too busy beating up the entire city militia you moron!"
Daenan's face turned thoughtful for a brief moment as he mulled over the memory.
"Well then their captain shouldn't have spit in my drink."
"He did that because you called him a cheating whore's son!"
"Well he was! The cheating at least. Using weighed dice, the bastard."

Faen had started fluttering again and realised that his friend was taking the piss with him and he was only playing into his hands. He sighed and slowly descended, landing next to his pal. "You're an impossible bastard, you know that?"
"Thank you. I try."
"So how do you think things will pan out in the city?"
"Hm. I reckon Marcus will want to sell everything as fast as possible and stock up on whatever he can get his hands on. Bugger's usually greedy, but I think even he prefers his head over gold. Like you said, it's a matter of time before we're found."
Faen paled, which was rather hard to notice given a Faerie's usual complexion. "What do you mean?"
Daenan's dark eyebrows formed into a frown, giving him a distinct demonic appearance. "You didn't see?"
Faen shook his head. Sometimes he forgot that his friend, despite being a rude bastard and an utter oaf, his skills were very real and that underneath his slow and clumsy demeanour a mind as sharp as a razor lurked.
"The Flame's giving out rewards for finding spies." He spat the last word.
Faen gulped. He could connect the dots. "And an even bigger one for creatures of the Dark," he finished.
"There's a reason the guards sent us here. This quarter has no love lost for the Flame, and their patrols are unlikely to frequent here as well. They may be fanatics, but they're not stupid. They have a few competent bastards leading them. By my honour, I wish it weren't so because the rest of them are just vermin. But you know what they say about pigeons being led by a phoenix." Daenan shrugged.
"So do you think we'll be safe here?" Faen looked up at his friend, a slimmer of hope lurking in the question. That slimmer was immediately extinguished when his friend looked down at him in disgust.
"Of course not. By the strength of my arm, Faen, could you please stop flying long enough so you can have some blood flow to your brain instead? I told you not a moment ago that we'll be found sooner or later. Safety is an illusion. There's always danger. The only way to be safe is to be prepared for it."

Faen realised his wings were buzzing again and slowly brought them to a stop, embarrassed. He looked down in shame. Silence reigned in the room for a good long while before the Faerie dared disrupt it again.
"Is where you are from that dangerous?"
"I travelled a lot. Some places were dangerous, others weren't. I'm still alive though."
"That's not what I asked, you oaf," Faen replied while smacking his friend on the side.
"No. I suppose it wasn't."
"So?" insisted the Faerie
"So what?" sighed Daenan
"So how was where you are from then?"
"Rusted blades and blunted daggers, you just won't leave me be until you hear it, will you?" Daenan growled
Faen fought down an urge to retreat and bravely held his ground. "You've not told me or anyone. And I'm sure you're an Orc. But you're not like how Orcs are supposed to be. You're not..." he trailed off, realising he was venturing on very dangerous territory. He looked to the floor in front of him. He could feel Daenan's eyes towards him and felt the fury behind them.
"You mean I'm not stupid. Reigned by bestial instincts that I have no control over. That I am, in fact, more than an animal. Something which you are directly inferring they are not."
"I didn't—" squeaked Faen, only to be stopped short when a pillow crashed into him. For most creatures, having a pillow tossed at them was a pleasant way to pass the time. For a Faerie it was more akin to someone throwing a frying pan at you. Faen, being caught off guard, was sent flying along with the pillow, without the use of his wings for once, and crashed into the blankets of the other bed. He struggled to claw free of them, intending to give his friend a proper cuff on the ears, with his limited magic if he had to, but was brought short by the sad look on Daenan's face.

"Those are not proper Orcs," he whispered. "They're abominations, Faen. They have forgotten their past. By my honour, I hate that I share ancestry with them. I hate that they are all people think of when they think of me and mine. Hammer and shield, how I hate it. We are so much more than..." he trailed off, as if suddenly realising where he was again. For a brief moment he looked terribly fragile, a sight that didn't fit the metal-clad giant. Then he growled and the image was gone. Replaced by the usual fearsome, fierce intensity that he possessed. He got up in a sharp, fluid movement despite the significant weight that his armour held. He stretched and tilted his head in both directions, his bones cracking as he moved.
"Bah. I need a drink. Drinks." He managed to stress the s to indicate he needed several. Before Faen could voice an objection, his friend narrowly managed to avoid pulling the door out of its frame as he left the room, leaving the Faerie alone with his thoughts.




Daenan muttered numerous curses behind his visor as he walked down the stairs towards the taproom. The conversation had made him recall memories he preferred to leave buried. He was annoyed at his friend, even though the little one didn't deserve it. It wasn't Faen's fault that everyone only thought of Orcs as barbaric creatures. He caught himself in the nick of time, his armoured fist a hair's width away from smashing a hole through the wooden wall in anger. He suppressed hideous truth that the members of his kin that roamed these lands were hideous, vile and violent beasts, and tried to smooth out the lines of anger on his face. Bad enough that he was green, had massive fangs and more teeth than most Men were comfortable with. No need to further scare them.

As he entered the taproom he was warmly greeted by the other guards and some of the patrons that knew him. Marcus barely spared a glance and a friendly nod for him, for the short merchant was too busy gorging himself on a substantial amount of food. Where the tiny man put it all was anyone's guess.
Walking towards his colleagues, Daenan sat down, the bench creaking slightly under his weight. A call for more drinks went out while the Orc took off his helmet and slid it down his back. He smiled broadly at those around him and started to relax. The people here weren't freaked out by his appearance and instead greeted him as an acquaintance. Friendly banter, strong tales and stronger ale never failed to cheer him up. It wasn't quite like home, but it sufficed. Mug after mug was emptied and soon people started showing signs of minor intoxication. Laughs became louder, smiles were wider and the slaps on the back became harder. When one of the guards made the mistake of slapping Daenan with as much force as the bloke could muster, Daenan's grin was all the warning the poor fellow got before a massive smack echoed through the room as the guard's head dipped straight into his plate. The rest of the table roared and whistled in approval, which doubled when Daenan obviously lied about being sorry and profusely apologised. The man was a good sport about it and the event was soon forgotten as more ale was brought forth and another old, embarrassing memory was brought to the front.

When the serving girl set down a new tankard in front of Daenan, she made quite a show of leaning against him, her ample chest pressing hard against his shoulder, earning the pair plenty of hoots from the others. She grinned broadly at the group, gave the Orc a quick kiss on the cheek and to everyone's amusement and Daenan's embarrassment, she smacked him hard on the ass.
"Would be a shame if you turned violent, you know? You could charge all the way up to the third room on the left on the first floor, open that damnable door that—" she turned towards the bar where the innkeeper was slowly washing glasses and mugs and shouted "— still needs to have its hinges oiled", before continuing her lecherous chat.
"And have your way with me without me being able to do anything about it." She gave him a wink and slid her hands across his armour, causing the Orc to raise his arms and shoo her off. She laughed and started to walk away, throwing her arms up in desperation and Daenan made use of the moment to smack her on her ass as well, causing her to yelp and jump. She managed to keep her angry glare up for about two seconds before it was replaced by a broad grin and she joined the others in their laughter.
"Invitation still stands, big boy." She blew him a kiss and ran off as the innkeeper shouted for her to stop flirting and start bringing drinks again.

Daenan started to relax. Properly relax. His language became less guarded, more swear words slipping in with every drink he took. People started to arm wrestle and within a handful of matches everyone started to pile on him. Bets were exchanged as he took on the majority of the inn's clientele one after another. That was an old game he and the guards often played, and even though some of the inn's customers were wise to their tricks, the numerous drinks had dulled their senses. The first few matches the tall Orc won without much trouble, easy squashing any resistance under loud cheers and applause. Then the victories started being harder to gain, but they were still inevitable. After more than two dozen contests, Daenan's face contorted with effort and concentration as his hand wavered back and forth, between victory and defeat. One of the stronger, broader men in the room saw his chance and walked over to the table with much bravado. As he sat down and flexed his massive arms the room went silent for a brief moment before people started shouting and new round of bets was noted down. Daenan grinned, but there was uncertainty looming behind his eyes. The broad man flashed the Orc a cocky grin. Somewhere in the distance the serving girl shouted that she'd bed the winner, a comment received with plenty of hoots and people slapping the contestants on the back while making remarks that seared Daenan's ears.

As the final bets of those willing were placed, weighing heavily against Daenan, despite most of the guards betting heavily on their champion and shouting with slurred voices how he was absolutely unbeatable and they'd regret their choices. The serving girl quickly declared herself referee and eyed both men with a luscious lick of the lips before she placed her hands on those of the two men. She counted down and the game began. The muscles in their arms went taut as they exerted massive amounts of strength. The crowd erupted, cheered, yelled and screamed as Daenan's arm slowly started bending, his hand going down in the wrong direction. More bets were placed as the handful of undecided patrons realised the victor was certain, and in the midst of it all people overlooked that the innkeeper left the bar to place down a few crowns on Daenan.
As the Orc's hand was a mere few inches away from defeat, his expression changed.
"Everyone done betting?" he asked to the surprise of the crowd. Seeing that it was indeed done, he grinned broadly at his public, flashing them his full set of teeth. He turned his gaze at his opponent and smiled at him. It was a smug smile, full of pride, and it was well deserved as he started pressing the massive man. Slowly but certainly the tables turned as the Orc started exerting himself properly. The cocky grin remained as desperation etched ugly lines on the man's face who just now realised that he had been played for the fool. For that matter, so did the rest of the crowd, the impending loss of their coin slowly rousing their intoxicated minds. As the battling hands crossed the halfway point, the serving girl winked playfully at Daenan and blew him another kiss. The guards cheered, the slightly sober patrons that had bet on the Orc did the same, the innkeeper grinned, the other betters desperately urged their player to not give up, to aim for victory, Marcus ate, and in the midst of this chaos, Daenan smashed his opponent's hand down onto the table.

As the coins were collected and heated argument over whether the game was fair or not erupted, Daenan wrapped his arm around his opponent's neck and pulled him close before emptying his tankard over the man's head under loud cheers. The man returned the favour a moment later and the two engaged in a moment of mutually trying to crush the other in a violent hug that would grind lesser beings to dust. This settled the argument and under loud applause the massive man grabbed another tankard, dubbed Daenan Champion of the Inn and a true Man amongst Men, before emptying this tankard on the Orc's head as well. Within moments everyone joined him and the poor Orc was utterly drenched in ale. The room quieted down again when Daenan's colleagues carried in a large barrel, two men on each end, and put it down in front of him. Everyone backed away from the green giant as he adjusted his stance and grabbed the edge of the barrel, slowly lifting it. The liquor soaking his gauntlets squelched as he dug his fingers into the wood as he steadily brought the entire thing above his head. He opened his mouth, as if to call a colleague over to unfasten the lid so he could douse himself in it, seemed to change his mind, then slowly shook his head.
"That'd be a waste, wouldn't it?" he asked, before letting the barrel slide out of his hands. He took a step backwards at lightning speed, brought his hands down and caught it, carefully putting it down on the floor. He looked around, eyed the quiet audience, then smashed his hand through the lid.
"Barrel's on me!" he bellowed, and the room erupted in cheers once more.

Thoroughly doused in alcohol, intoxicated by the victory and the girl who was quite pretty, for a human at least, dancing around him and constantly skirting the border between flirtatious and raunchy, darting across one to nimbly land in the other every so often, and drunk on the atmosphere he nearly missed the sound. Nearly. It brought him out of his stupor immediately and his hands slid across his weapons that were, as always, slung across his back. He never went anywhere without them. He felt the urge to put his helmet back on, but suppressed it. Not yet. Then the door was kicked open and the source of the sound entered. The fanatics of the Flame, who had drawn their swords only moments before, burst into the inn.

The crowd went silent, men pausing mid-drink and the serving girl fell against Daenan's broad chest, as she had been leaning in to kiss him on the cheek the moment before. The only sound that remained was that of the innkeeper nervously wiping the bar and Marcus who didn't bother to look up from his meal. Two dozen armed men spread around the taproom, surrounding the clientele, their swords pointing down but looking no less threatening for that. The leader of the group stepped forward, a tall, handsome man with a large mustache and a golden blazon embroidered on his shirt. He eyed everyone present as if they were a group of cockroaches, his blue eyes full of disdain.
"There have been reports that heretics and criminals are being harboured here, committing crimes against humanity and violating the Lord's commandments. We are here to root out the filth that plagues this fair city. Rest assured, if you are found innocent you will be let go and you shall receive a crown as compensation for the caused inconvenience. If you are found guilty, however, you shall burn at the stake. Now— By the Lord! You!" he shouted, pointing dramatically at Daenan. "Take off that hideous mask right now! How dare you wear something as vile as that and—" the man paused and fell silent. Not a very uncommon thing when Daenan stood up to his full height, rather than slightly bending to make himself look less threatening. His dark eyes stared intensely at the man. Tall as the man was, he was still shorter than the Orc, and where the leader of the fanatics looked handsome and impressive, Daenan looked rough and dominating.

Under the gaze of two dozen armed men and nearly a score of patrons, Daenan slowly stepped towards the leader, seemingly without a care in the world.
"Is there something wrong with my face, good sir?" he asked, his voice calm, polite. A soft smile on his face. Now Marcus looked up, as he sensed that his meal was in danger. His eyes took in the scene, widened considerably and he started gulping down what remained of his food as fast as possible.
"Your face? There is no way an Orc can be in the city! The Lord would not—"
"Shh. Be quiet little man." Daenan pressed his finger against the man's lips and mustache and the man fell quiet, intimidated by the Orc's aura. "You see, me and my friends here had a lovely evening so far. Everything a proper evening in an inn should have. Good drinks. Decent food. Good company. Pretty wenches all over me. But there was one thing missing, and I am truly, truly glad you have arrived to bring me that. Now I can truly say that the evening is complete."

The man regained some of his composure and took a quick step back, bringing his sword up and holding it steadily in between him and the Orc. Daenan was impressed. The man was experienced if he could maintain his composure despite the aura pressing down on him. "What could you possibly be hinting at?"
"Oh, you know. What every bar needs once in a while."

Daenan grinned, Marcus swallowed, the leader blinked and the next moment Daenan advanced on him. The man tried to stab him only to discover that the Orc was much faster than him as his sword was batted aside by a casual wave from Daenan's armoured hand. Grabbing the man by the shirt and trousers, he lifted him above his head as he had done with the barrel earlier.
Looking around the room, seeing both the patrons and the fanatics back up a bit, he flashed them all his teeth again and bellowed "Bar fight!" at the top of his lungs, before throwing the man into his comrades. Not giving them a chance to recover, he charged them.
As the patrons followed his lead and started pelting the armed men with chairs, plates, tankards, tables, anything they had nearby, a maniacal laugh escaped Daenan's lips as he roared a battle cry, launched himself into the air, smashed his head into the ceiling and landed ungracefully on top of two fanatics, knocking them to the floor.

As an inn-wide, full on bar brawl broke out, the fanatics struggled to use their swords on account of the constant barrage of chairs being thrown at them and being heavily outnumbered. The leader, who climbed back to his feet rather unsteadily, started barking out orders, felt someone tap his shoulder, turned around with a swearword on his lips and was greeted by a very large fist approaching his face at a rather unpleasant velocity.

The brawl ended as swiftly as it began. With Daenan at the front acting as an armoured battering ram that was completely impervious to their swords and dozens of angry patrons pelting the fanatics with anything they managed to get their hands on, they were outnumbered, outmatched and outmanoeuvred. Having lost their leader at the start of the fight, they had been temporarily confused, waiting for orders that never came. Instead they were facing a massive, armoured threat that dealt out punches with an impact not entirely dissimilar from crossbow bolts. They never really stood a chance.

Surveying the carnage with a brutal smile, Daenan overlooked the warzone the barroom had transformed in. Tables and chairs had been reduced to firewood, plates were smashed, food and ale were spilled everywhere and some idiot had caused a fire when he had pulled a burning log from the hearth and thrown it.
The Orc panted, more so from excitement than any real exertion, as well as a mixture of stress. As exhilarating as the fight had been, it was also equally worrying. Beating up a handful of idiotic, lightly armed children was one thing. Going up against a proper force with crossbows, pikes, maces and axes was another. His mind was racing. The fight had been unavoidable, but he somehow had to avoid retaliation. To start that, he had to keep the drunk patrons from actually harming the fanatics any further. They were completely intoxicated by their victory, however, and the hatred they felt for the occupiers was visible.

"Enough!" he bellowed. Everyone in the room jumped at the eardrum-busting roar and stopped whatever they were doing to look at the Orc in stunned silence.
"Right, you lot, help me carry them out. We're dumping them out in the street. Feel free to rob them of their valuables, provided it doesn't look like anything religious. Let them keep their swords as well, they're undoubtedly marked, but you can take anything else. Now hop to!" he thundered. The sheer volume of his voice squashed any arguments or questions about his orders. There was chaos at first, but the more sober patrons quickly latched onto the Orc's train of thought. Any excess harm would be returned to them ten-fold. With the sober leading the drunk the knocked-out fanatics were being dragged out of the inn in something that resembles efficiency. Daenan shook his head warily and wondered how the hell they were ever going to get out of this mess alive. He straightened himself and put his worries beside him. First of all, I need a bucket of water.


Miriander was not having a good day. It had started off so well though. An easy mission from the Patriarch of the Flame, go into the darker section of the city and clear out an inn reputed to harbour heretical elements. An easy job, really. The two dozen men at his disposal, all armed with swords and their devotion, should have made this a walk in the park. Then the Orc had shown up and tossed him around, making a mockery of him and his faith!
Now his day was going from horrid to even worse, as he was rudely awakened by someone dousing him in what smelled like sewer-water. He spat out the disgusting liquid and veered upright, only to be met by far too many teeth that were lined up to form a very threatening grimace.
"I hope you are happy, soldier. You very nearly ruined all of it."
"I... what?"
"You're not even aware? Blasted man, when I met your patrol outside the city I at least expected them to relay the information."
"Information? I... Listen you scum, I—" A massive hand covered his mouth and fierce eyes burned into his.
"No, you listen, blind zealot. I could have had you and your men killed. Like this." The Orc snapped his fingers.
"But you are alive. I got you out of there because I have use for you and you and yours are already outnumbered enough as it is."
Miriander grimaced, his faith reinforcing him. He would chose death over dishonour. "I will never serve the Dark!"
The Orc let out a deep growl and picked him up as if he were a child. He shook the man. "Listen you idiot. When you return to your command post, ask for the patrol that was out south. I do not know how many patrols you have out, but they met me. They also heard my story and I am loathe to repeat that. Keep in mind your knowledge about Orcs and apply that to me. To my armour. You serve the Lord, and despite my hideous appearance so do I. I am cursed by the Dark to wander like this, and if you let my face fool you, then you are playing exactly into their hands."
The Orc brought his lips closer to Miriander's ear and he whispered softly.
"Look at my arms and let them guide your eyes back to the Light. I am part of those who are the first to carry the Light into the Dark. I belong to the Order. More specifically, I am part of the Order of the Eagle and serve it as a Paladin. We, more than the others, act as vanguards and are found far from our Fortress-Monasteries. We roam the land as hunters. Your goal here is commendable, but you should be wary. The Darkness has strong roots here and if you try to remove it through force you will fail."

Miriander nodded. As a child he had been infatuated by the Order of the Eagle. When his village had been threatened by a gang of rampaging bandits, a lone Paladin had charged into the dozen foes with a holy warcry on his lips and prayers to the Lord accompanying every swing from his sword. Ever since that day Miriander had idolised them and dug up any knowledge he could find. To discover that a noble Paladin had such a vile stroke of misfortune wounded his soul.
"My lord, sir, I did not know, please, forgive me." He cast his eyes down, his cheeks burning bright with shame.
"Do not blame yourself. Like you said, you did not know and how can I hope to blame the ignorant who had no way to open their eyes?"
Miriander looked up and was met by a warm smile now. The Paladin offered him a hand and he eagerly grasped it. The holy warrior pulled him to his feet with ease and Miriander felt the boyish adoration from so long ago well up in force.
"Listen... What is your name?"
"Miriander, sir, wick-leader of the Flame of the Lord."
"Miriander. Good. Listen to me. The Darkness that is rooted in this city isn't very large. Yet, should you try to uproot it, you will find that the ground will not let go of it. They do not know the Dark for what it is, and if you apply brute force you will find that the innocent will side not with you, but the Dark. Do not blame them for it, for they are ignorant and blind to His truth. It does not help matters that your fellows have a rather harsh reputation around these parts, given that many cities like these do a lot of trade with races other than Men."
The wick-leader looked down in shame.
"Once more, I do not blame you, but I am trying to warn you. Relay this message to your command. Keep your men out of trouble. Serve as police and curb crime. Help the civilians and peacefully spread His word. You are hopelessly outnumbered and should a riot occur, you will not live to see another dawn. You are not suited to root out the Darkness in cities. Fighting Its forces directly, that is your task. But in here? Leave the task of hunting the rats out to me. That is the task of Eagles, after all. We fly far, see further, and above all, we hunt rats. Wake your men, Miriander. I shall pacify the situation in this district to the best of my abilities, may the Lord guide my actions, but you must withdraw from here post-haste and not enter until this unrest had a chance to disperse. Ask for the commander of the patrol, he will confirm my tale, and chastise him on my accord, but do not draw further attention to my presence. Go now! Do not disappoint me! And if we do not meet again, may your conviction never waver and may you never lose the flame He lights in your heart. Go with the Lord, child. But go!"

Miriander watched as the Paladin stood up, carefully looked around to make sure no one saw him, and disappeared into the evening fog with a few long strides. It took him a minute to get his bearings and start waking up his troops. All the while he could not keep the smile from his face. He had met a Paladin. A real Paladin. Truly, the Lord had blessed him.


The situation was becoming complicated. He was juggling too many plates at once and sooner or later the entire thing would come crashing down. As Daenan lay in bed and saw the first rays of the morning sun crawl through the small gap in the curtains, he tried to think of a way to keep them balanced a bit longer. He had gained time, but that was all. The situation in the inn had been narrowly contained, but if the sentiments of anger lingered much longer a riot would certainly follow, and he'd be caught in the midst of a bloody civil war. If that happened he wouldn't even have a chance to run anymore. He had betrayed his oath once. He would not betray it again, no matter the cost.
Letting his eyes wander across the curves of the naked serving girl. Sometimes, though, that cost was fairly pleasant. It had been surprising as well, given that his entire body was, well, green, but that hadn't bothered her any. And the ensuing argument between him and her had plenty distracted the crowd, further aided by the innkeeper bringing forth more ale and food after Daenan had given up most of his winnings in order to  reimburse the man for his demolished taproom. It had cooled tempers. For now. He doubted that Miriander would have much luck though. The man had seemed sincere and was a lot calmer than most of the hotheads that belonged to the Flame, but convincing their leader to lay off on the civilian population? The man would be lucky if he wouldn't be flogged for incompetence or executed for consorting with forces of the Dark. He would have to urge Marcus to get out of the city post-haste, everything else be damned, before it all spiralled out of control and his oaths would lock him in place more firmly than a steel chain. But unless the Lord or some other mystical deity deigned to interfere, he doubted there was anything that could prevent disaster from striking.

Sanguilia looked up from her drink and smiled impishly at her audience. The Maester and his Circle, along with half a dozen officers sat around her looking thoroughly baffled. The ceremonial part of the conversation had long since been abandoned, only lasting as long as required to frighten off outsiders or until any official business was concluded.
"You cannot be serious. There is no way that would work," the Maester responded after a long moment of silence.
Her smile turned into a full grin. "You'd be mistaken. Humans are delightfully stupid creatures in groups, and so easily blinded. This'll be like taking candy from a baby. Besides," she shrugged, "if it goes wrong, I'm the only one at risk."
She bared her teeth at them and her eyes danced with something that danced along the line of cruelty and playfulness. "What do you say, o Maester Jas'Tra of Hold Kras'Vt? Shall we play on them the prank of the century?"
The Maester turned to his trusted aides and conferred with them for a short moment, before the gathering of Kobolds turned to their Human visitor. When the Maester spoke, all of them shared the same grin that spoke of their united love for mischief.
"Let it be known that we will. So I declare. So shall it be."




The serving girl stirred as soon as Daenan made the tiniest movement. Her large green eyes flashed open and blinked once, clearing any sleep from her eyes.
"You're not planning on leaving yet, are you?" There was a sharp undertone there that the Orc could swear hadn't been there before.
"I have a rather busy day ahead of me."
"Oh yes, I am sure you do." She adjusted her body so that the covers draped alluringly along her side, drawing his eyes to the curves of her breast as she  stretched languidly, tightening the cloth across her chest. Daenan's eyes widened slightly at the display it made and the girl smiled. "But before you go about your day, I believe you owe me..." she said, whispering the last words into his ear.
A shiver ran across his spine when she bit his earlobe teasingly. He fought the urge to just embrace her again and recalled that it had been a lot easier to resist her offers when she had been fully dressed and they both were in a public room. Sharing a small bed with her naked form made that task a lot more difficult.
"I owe you? How so?" he asked with a soft growl, as she bit his earlobe again.
She perked up at the question and slipped her leg across his waist, sliding herself on top of him and pressing her chest tightly against his. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal and her full, red lips were slightly parted as she panted in excitement. That she was full of lust was also apparent in how her breasts felt against his chest. Being covered in rough, short hairs all over he could easily feel the two hard protrusions press against his rough skin.
"De gae, sie yeu sin." she muttered.
That drew him out of his stupor.
"What did you say?" he asked, trying to raise himself. He was brought short with a giggle and a wiggle as she started moving against him.
"I said that you're blind." She bit him again, the other earlobe this time. Harder, rougher. Her panting grew faster and she started picking up the pace. He groaned in response as his blood started flowing south.
"Last night was a warm up. A start." She wrapped her legs around him and pulled herself against him, tightly. He hissed at the sensation.
"You are not uncultured, Orc of mine. You are a better lover than that."

He wanted to respond but the tip of her tongue drew a slow line underneath his chin, rendering the attempt obsolete.
"Last night I had you in bed. But I didn't have you." She lowered herself and he groaned in pleasure as she rubbed herself against him. He felt himself harden, unable and partially unwilling to resist her.
"This time I want you fully," came her sultry voice. "I want your hands on my body. Your lips on mine. I want your tongue to explore me, your teeth to taste me." Her voice became more hoarse and her movements more hungry. The way she danced her hips across his length made him feel how aroused she was as droplets slid down from her and splashed across his groin. Her breasts scraped across his chest and her lips were close to his, tantalisingly close and coming closer every time she moved up and down. Her fingers trailed lightly across his rough skin, setting it aflame where-ever they went.

He shook his head, violently, and cleared the fog from his head. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her up. In the back of his mind he realised that she was a lot taller than he had thought. She wasn't even two heads shorter than him. As he pushed her and her agonisingly tempting body away from her, he caught the grin on her face and the twinkle in her eyes and realised, far too late, that he had run into her trap. Moving swiftly she pressed her hips down against him just as he started to push and they both moaned as he pushed her smaller body onto his length. Daenan with his eyes closed and his mouth contorted in a snarl where reason fought a desperate battle against pleasure, and she with her mouth slightly open as the angelic sound echoed through the room.

She casually brushed his hands off her shoulders and placed her own down on his chest, pushing her off. Illuminated by the first rays of the morning sun, her long hair glittered just as much as her deep, green eyes. The covers slowly slid down her body, revealing her lithe form.
"I love the way your eyes are glued to me," she whispered, her voice so thick with lust that he could barely make out the words. "Do you like what you see? I know I do. I love green. It's my favourite colour."
His usual eloquence was smashed to pieces by the sight. Her ample chest heaved slightly as she breathed quickly, her cheeks burning red with pure want. She was leaning backwards slightly, showing off her looks and with reason. She wasn't as plump as he had expected, but she was thin, waspishly so, and his well trained eye told him that she was a lot stronger than she looked at first glance. His eyes continued their expedition. Her skin was smooth, and he knew it was soft as silk from last night. She was sitting still, her eyes focused on his face, waiting for a reaction, a comment. Her entire body was seemingly relaxed, yet he could feel that she was tense from the way her insides gripped his length. She was ready to pounce him at a moment's notice.

Unable to look away from the beauty on his lap, he closed his eyes, earning him a moment's reprieve. He fell back on his training, tried to collect his thoughts.
"No," he whispered, fighting off the near-overwhelming urges of his body to just take her.
Wrong answer.
"Yes!" she hissed, pushing herself down, hilting herself fully.
"By my honour!" he shouted, grabbing her roughly by the arms.
In a surprising show of force she freed herself with a quick movement and pinned him down. She was panting heavily now and so was he. She slowly grinded her hips against him, causing him agony in the form of overwhelming pleasure.
"My honour insists that you make up for last night. That you will give me your undivided attention. Your every effort to please me."
He groaned in response. He couldn't! He had things to do, even if Marcus didn't expect him for several more hours, he had to stem the upcoming tide of troubles as much as he could. She twisted her body slightly, how he did not know, but he nearly exploded from the feeling. She smiled slyly at him.
"You're in me, Daenan. Mind and body. But I am not in you."
She lowered herself against him, gently laying her soft body on top of his. She looked deep into his stubborn eyes, then slowly closed hers as she pressed her lips against him. Softly at first, without hurry. Then slightly harder. He felt her tongue dart against his teeth with surprising agility. He held firm, keeping his own lips closed. Feeling his resistance she moved and the sudden sensation took him off guard. He moaned and she made use of the opening. Her tongue darted through the breach and found his, and before he could stop her or himself, they tenderly intertwined. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her head tightly against his for what felt like an eternity. He couldn't move beyond that, the slightest press of her limbs steered him.  She tasted like sweet ambrosia. The feeling overwhelmed him, flooded through the final defences in his mind and left him bare, filled with want. She was far more skillful and alluring than a human had any right to be. Then she drew back and sat upright again, leaving the both of them panting, breathless. In the light of the morning sun he could see small droplets of sweat slide down her beautiful skin. It only enhanced her stunning image.

He was taken off guard by how vulnerable she looked all of a sudden. Her nakedness was bewitching him and it stirred him to hold her, to protect her and keep her safe. At the same time the arousal that hung in the room like a thick cloud spurred him on to be a lot less gentle, and the way her body gripped him left no doubt that she was more than eager for that. Her parted lips were an unspoken invitation and he longed to dive back into them.
"Please, Daenan," she whispered.

He jumped up and embraced her. Fully, properly. Just as she desired she had his undivided attention and he proved to be a very attentive lover. His mouth, when he finally tore himself away from her lips, explored her body thoroughly, leaving not inch uncovered. Rough, large and firm as he was, both in body and in sex, she did not let him get the upper hand and met his every thrust with even greater want, her body holding up and constantly moving as she intertwined with his or as her limbs coiled around his, spurring him on to do more. Where at first words were still used as exclamations of pleasure, soon those were beyond the pair and only primal screams revealed the pleasure they gave to one another. she tried to guide him but soon discovered he had no need for it, as he found the spots she wanted touched on his own. He left her full of tender marks and she squealed in delight for every one, before returning him to the best of her ability. At first they were creative, inventive. His fingers probed her and hers danced sensually across his body. He tasted her and found it to his liking and she melted under his touch. When part of his arousal was spent, she skillfully brought her oral skills to bear and replenished it. They moved from the bed and made thorough use of any piece of furniture they found, exploring the possibilities they brought. The desk was tried and tested, so was the chair. When they ran out of options on those, they made a valid attempt to return to the bed, but failed and mutually decided that the rug was comfortable enough as they left the frivolities behind and began to be more rough with one another. He took her wildly there and she urged him on. They managed to maintain their intense kiss for a short while, before their play grew so wild and rough that it simply wasn't feasible anymore.

As the pair neared the final and conjoined highlight, Daenan felt how her fingers, who had been digging into his back for quite a while, somehow managed to pierce his skin and draw blood. He hissed, temporarily pulled from the spell they both were under, but was sucked in again when she kissed him hard, clenching herself fully around him and making any movement all but impossible. With wild spasms, tightly embracing one another, it all came to an end and they collapsed in each other's arms, fulfilled and exhausted.


Half an hour later a properly freshened up Daenan joined Marcus and the others in the taproom and was greeted by a lot of cheers, which were doubled when the serving girl, her hair only partially restored to order, hopped down the stairs, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and announced loudly that she was going out to buy supplies.



Making sure she wasn't followed, Ly stopped playing the serving girl as she pulled her armour out from a well hidden chest in her safe-house. She didn't waste any time and quickly put on all the separate pieces and tied them in place. She wasn't as well armoured as the normal Paladins from the Order, but her training was superior to them, let alone what she had learned since.
She paused slightly when she spotted the dried up blood on her fingers and smiled. It wasn't the first time she had applied blood magic, and she was still in awe of the abilities it carried.
Then she continued getting dressed. The attire of a serving girl was little more than underwear to her.

Once she had fully donned her weapons and her armour she reached into the chest and pulled out her badge. Clipping it onto her breastplate, she felt a weigh sink down on her shoulders. Her time as the gleeful serving girl frolicking with customers had come to an end. Duty called, and for a Paladin of the Order of the Eagle, that burden was heavy.




As much as Ly didn't want to waste time, she knew better than to go to the headquarters of the Flame in a straight line.  The populace of Tinas was anxious enough as it was, and even though the Order wasn't exactly well known around these parts that didn't mean that her presence would go unnoticed. Fully equipped Paladins were a rather memorable sight after all, even one as lightly armoured as her. Rather than further antagonise the more rough elements of the city by openly announcing her presence, she shrouded herself in a cloud of distraction. It was a simple magical trick that was beyond the ability of most Paladins. They weren't recruited on their magical prowess after all. The Order of the Eagle, however, required their members to have a far broader skill set. A necessity given their radically different purpose.
She hastily navigated through the maze of narrow streets that littered this part of the city and let her thoughts roam free.

Had she made a mistake when she had send a message to the fanatics of the Flame? Tinas had been ripe for colonisation, really. The Flame would have been an excellent militia force to pacify the city and wipe out the unrulier elements. Sure, they were fanatics, but there were plenty of decent folks with them. The original plan had been for them to enter the city in force, then she'd subtly stoke the fires between them and the underground of the city, steering them towards an open confrontation. The normal folks would hate the Flame for their zealotry and fanaticism, but that would subside quickly once the fanatics' burning conviction had an outlet. The criminal elements would, despite their home ground advantage, be quickly eradicated when she joined the fray, allowing her to take up an advisory role for the Flame and steering them towards a decent middle ground. Merchants would be happy that the crime rate dropped, civilians would be happy that there would be no more violence, the fanatics would be pacified and feel very successful and blessed to be guided by a Paladin, and the Order would have a strong and reliable outpost near the Wilds.

Of course, plans rarely survived contact with reality. She had never gotten the chance to steer them into conflict with the criminal underground, as the Flame had run into a Kobold village on their way to the city, and that had sparked a full out war with the nearby Hold. The fanatics, unable to come to terms with losing a third of their force against the Kobolds, had retreated to the city and imposed martial law, making the civilian populace sympathise with the criminal elements as a thriving black market sprang forth. Not only that, they had also begun aggressively recruiting citizens, and there was something about how that came to be that disturbed her. It wasn't unusual to conscript civilians, but after they came out of the headquarters they had been a bit too zealous for her taste. Either they had one hell of a recruitment manager, or something else was going on. Press ganged civilians didn't just turn into zealous believers overnight.

Then the Orc had shown up. She didn't doubt he was an Orc. She knew his race too well to be fooled by his eloquence. True enough, she had never met an Orc that was actually polite rather than constantly blinded by blood-thirst and rage, but that didn't mean he suddenly stopped being one. So when he had appeared, it had piqued her curiosity. Unforeseen events were an addiction to her. A grin crept on her face as she ran through the memories she had copied from his blood. She couldn't see too far in the past with it, she wasn't that skilled in blood magic, but she had very clearly seen him imitate a Paladin of her Order. He'd done a damn decent job of it too, and would likely have gotten away with it if he hadn't bumped into a real one. The real question was why he did it. Sure, avoiding getting impaled by crossbow bolts seemed to be a decent excuse, but that didn't explain the second time he did it. She had noticed that he hadn't feared death, but something else entirely. In that aspect she felt they shared a certain kinship. Death was but a minor issue compared to failing in their task. She grinned again. Kinship, huh. Never thought I'd be associating that with an Orc. She laughed quietly to herself. Or that I'd have kinship with one.

Still, as much as she had enjoyed the evening, night, and especially the following morning, it didn't diminish the very simple fact that his presence was an absolute major pain in her backside. The creature was dangerous. His equipment spoke volumes, the way he perfectly controlled his incredible strength, something she had tested very extensively, his wits... If the populace rallied to him for support, and he gave it to them, the short and harmless little war she had planned would end up wrecking the city entirely. Not only would Tinas be lost as an outpost to the Order that way, but it'd harbour a grudge towards all those who followed the Lord. Him being an unknown factor in the entire game made an already complicated situation worse. A lot worse.

So, she'd have to eliminate that factor. She could try a direct confrontation, but that would end badly. She was quite sure she'd win. She had plenty of tricks up her sleeve and she was far more than your average Paladin, but a direct confrontation against someone who hadn't sinned wasn't her style. Sure, he had killed one bloke with his aura, but her own hands weren't exactly clean either. And by killing that one guy he had kept a fight from breaking out that would have ended badly for all those involved. If she judged him by her own rulebook, he had put down an exemplary performance. Killing people like that didn't sit right with her. Another thing that made the majority of the Order look at those who belonged to those who donned the badge of the Eagle with suspicion. Most Paladins would put anything that didn't believe in the Lord, or wasn't a human or a member of an allied race to the sword as soon as it came within striking distance.
Then again, those Paladins didn't leave their home much. Indiscriminate murdering and long distance recon didn't merge well.

So she was stuck with the Orc, for now at least. Luckily enough he seemed to be a reasonable sort, although she wondered how well he would take it when he discovered that the tavern wench he casually bedded was the very Paladin he had pretended to be. That brought a smirk to her face. No doubt that'd be a fun little experience. That was a matter for later, however. First, she had to try to pacify the far too aggressive Patriarch of the Flame. If he was willing to grant her an audience. Bloody bastards were more than a bit sexist and didn't share the Order's ideas that ability was the only requirement, gender be damned. Luckily enough she'd have an ally in that little squirt, Miriander. The boy clearly idolised Paladins and that would give her an opening to at least start negotiations. It was a shame she couldn't fall back on her other identity, however. Despite that the other title she carried tremendously outranked her title as Paladin, it had the minor downside that it was a hidden organisation that very few people knew of. Even within the Order itself.



She made a brief pause in the shadows of a market stall and surveyed her surroundings. Letting the stream of magic to the shroud that hid her fade away, she admired the efficiency that the Flame had shown when setting up camp. Sure, she'd have preferred that they hadn't come in with swords drawn, evicted the entirety of the city council and their clerks, demolish the nearby stands to create open fields of fire and barricade the town hall to the point it resembled a fortress, but at least they had been terribly efficient about the matter. Fanatics and zealots they may be, but they knew their stuff when it came to military matters.
Except that they obviously don't know that it's a bad idea to try and assault Kobolds on their home ground with mere foot soldiers and a handful of mages. Oh well.
She double checked her armour and weapons, polished her badge with a piece of cloth for good measure, and nearly stepped out of the shadow when she caught wind of something.

Her blood magic reacted violently to something further ahead and she darted backwards, deeper into the shadows and pulled her magic towards her again, shrouding herself once more.
What the hell was that? she pondered before her eyes flashed open wide as she recognised the feeling.
Oh no. Oh Lord above, no, no, no! That can't be!
She felt droplets of sweat form all over her body and she gulped, fear grasping her heart. She had encountered this pressure only twice before, but both times countless people had died. It was the pressure emitted by a Fauknir. Horrible creatures that looked just like humans, except they weren't. Masters of blood magic, in the possession of inhuman strength and having enough magic to lay waste to an entire city with a single spell. As if that wasn't horrible enough, their mere presence was enough to brainwash all but the most resilient humans. They were completely mad, each vastly different from the other. The only thing Fauknirs had in common with one another was that they always believed they were some sort of ruler. The Lord had mercy on her soul! She'd need reinforcements for this. Forget using Tinas as an outpost. By the time this battle would be done, the city would have ceased to exist!

She resisted the urge to start pacing around in the shadows of the alley.
Darkness be damned, she thought. This changed everything. She came to a conclusion and started climbing up the walls. Fauknirs were beyond powerful, but they were also terribly insane. She could use that to her benefit. Firstly she needed to figure out who this one thought he was. If he was a normal lord, that'd be one thing. A warlord would be more difficult, but she could still predict the possible actions. Of course, it could be that the creature thought himself something else entirely and that would make him unpredictable. They exerted their strength in direct proportion to the character they presumed to be.

Just as she reached the roof she paused, her hand stopping scant inches from the drainpipe.
Dammit. I forgot about Daenan. Curse me and my preferences. I need to know if he's an exception to the rule, or if there are more Orcs like him out there. It wouldn't be good if we discovered an entire civilisation of Orcs like him in the wild. They'd go through our rank and file like a knife through butter. Lord, depending on the size of their realm an encounter between humanity and them could end in an absolute disaster requiring the mustering of most of our allies.
She sighed deeply. At least her life wasn't boring anymore. As she climbed onto the roof and made herself comfortable, she let her magic blend in with the surroundings, lowering its energy signature, cloaking herself from scrying eyes. She'd have to find out how the command structure of the Flame was now. And what Daenan's background was. At least she could ask the regulars of the inn about him, given that he was a regular, not to mention that a man was always more eager to talk after a woman had exhausted him. She smiled at that, both at the chance to greatly increase what the Order knew about Orcs, as well at the idea of bedding him again. After all... He was so deliciously green.




"I mean, come on Daenan!" the little Faerie squeaked angrily. "There's nothing about it that's right! Even if we overlook the fact that a human suddenly finds herself mentally disturbed enough to bed an Orc, she somehow pierced your skin with her fingers! That doesn't add up! Nothing about it adds up! You're not the type of lazy oaf who'll prefer to spend the entire morning in bed rather than get things done! I've never known you to do that! You're always up at the crack of dawn!"
Daenan listened to his friend with rapt attention, in deep thought.
"You're right," he growled. "It doesn't add up. By my honour, it doesn't."
"See! See! I can understand why you took her with you last night, it pacified things greatly, but by all that blooms, you're an Orc! You're not attracted to humans! Sex doesn't transcend species!" the tiny creature cried out.
Daenan interrupted the tirade by raising an eyebrow. It transmitted a thought that Faen found profoundly worrying.
"There are species, human included, that—"
"I don't want to hear it!" Faen slammed his hands onto his ears, much to the amusement of the Orc.
"But what you say is correct. They share a certain similarity with us, body wise, are sentient, but... There always is a barrier. Or so I thought. So I believed. After last night, I'm not that certain anymore."
"Look, listen up you big oaf! After what you told me, I'm sure of it. She's not who she claims to be. If you can spend a full night making... well, if she can survive that, she's no ordinary human! And how many humans do you think can actually pierce your skin with their fingers?"
"You have a point, I'm not battling you on that anymore, am I?"

Faen huffed angrily. "It is my task. I study things, and proof is required. Forming an opinion is best done with as many facts supporting the claim as possible."
"Well she certainly didn't move like an ordinary human, the way she turned and twisted while—"
"Can it!" Faen squeaked, slamming his fist onto the bridge of Daenan's nose. It didn't do any real damage aside providing a slight discomfort, but it did shut him up. Damnable Orc kept a lecherous grin on his face.
"Do you understand how serious this all is?"
"I wouldn't worry overmuch. If she wanted to do harm, I reckon she'd have tried it so far. I don't think she's associated with those zealots."
"That's what irks me. You think. I prefer knowing. I don't like unknown threats that could squish me."
"Faen, buddy, an annoyed cat could squish you if you don't watch out."
"Daenan, for the love of—"
The Orc raised his hand. "No, I'm taking it serious. It is in my nature to mock anything and make it seem smaller than it is, but I am just as worried as you. The only reason I don't show that outward worry is because I believe that she's not a direct threat to us."
"Don't tell me you've gone soft because you got laid!"
This time the Orc threw him an annoyed glare, and it was the Faerie's turn to smirk smugly. "No. I'm not that easily turned and you know that very well."
Faen knew he had hit a sore spot. The big oaf didn't show it outwardly, but the Faerie knew how much pride the Orc took in being unshakeable and being incorruptible. That a girl had somehow gotten past his defences instilled a cold and frightening fury inside him and Faen felt the anger radiate of him.
"Then the only question that remains is, what are you going to do about it?"
The bones in Daenan's hand creaked in protest with how much strength he exerted on the handle of his war hammer.
"You know me friend. In cases like these I am not much for tactics, ambushes or other indirect means to reach my goal."
He lifted the weapon with ease, despite it's massive weight.
"I reckon I'll just have a little chat with her when she comes back. Marcus doesn't need me for the rest of the day anyway. You'll tell him that, won't you? The others provide enough protection for him with even the petty thieves having gone into hiding with those damned fanatics all over the place, and I'd only draw further unneeded attention. Are you sure you don't want to tag along with him? He's not much without you backing him up, you know?"
"Bah, he's not planning on buying anything anyway. We discussed this while you were in bed. He's going to cut his losses and just sell as much as he can in two days, ditch the rest and then get out of the city while we still can. He's scared out of his wits, even if he doesn't want to admit it. Still, I advice against it. I don't know who she is associated with, but I wouldn't underestimate her. I don't think she saw me yesterday—"
"Never pegged you for the vo—" Daenan began with a smirk, which was promptly cut off when Faen magically grabbed a fly and threw it into the Orc's ear.
The Faerie flew towards the cupboard and plopped himself down onto it, crossing his arms and legs in a smooth movement.
"You going at it with a human is something that piqued my interests on a rather professional level. I'd be quite the hassle if you were found fucking a human corpse and I assumed that it would be handy to have a healer on stand-by."
"Why that is downright touching," commented Daenan, a finger in his ear as he tried to dig the still buzzing fly out.
Faen huffed.
"Anyway, I recommend you let it be for now. Take a slower approach to it. If she is physically capable of withstanding you in bed, she probably can do it outside of it as well. We don't know who is backing her, and unless I am mistaking neither of you want to grab the attention of those good-for-nothing-but-fertiliser fanatics."
Daenan nodded.
"Can't find fault with that logic. Then what would you have me do? I don't exactly like the idea of being toyed with."
That was an understatement, Faen thought.
"Enjoy her," the Faerie said, pulling the Orc out of his anger.
".... What?" he said, dumbfounded.
"You heard me. Enjoy her company for now. It's unlikely that she'll not do it again if you were any good—"
"Hey!"
"—so she'll probably come back to you. Try to not give out any information, but seduce it from her. You've got good self control. Use your.... natural abilities to make her talk. People are always more talkative if they can use it to get what they want. I'll be nearby, reading her expressions and covering for you magically. Remember though, I'm a Faerie, not a combat mage, but still."
"Hmmm..." pondered the Orc. "I'm not entirely keen on that idea Faen."
"Liar liar, loins on fire, you're absolutely smitten with her," sang the Faerie, grinning smugly at his friend. Daenan tried to shoot an annoyed glare back, but given that he wasn't properly dressed yet and that he was vividly remember last night, he didn't quite succeed.
"By my honour, fine! I am partially keen on that idea!
"Partially?"
"Mauls and axes! Yes! I love the way she moves on top of me, I adore the way her full breasts bounce when—"
"Hang a on a spot, full breasts? Stampers and roots, Daenan, she's using an illusion! Tell me, how does she appear to you?"
Daenan fell quiet for a bit before his eyes turned slightly reminiscent. He knew it was a serious question, yet recalling the last night did have it's effect on him.
"Like I said, her breasts were full like ripe cantaloupes, her skin smooth as silk, and it shares its colour, her curves are narrow, but filled with both strength and joy, her long hair trails behind her and glistens in the light of dawn, her—"
"Right! Enough!" Faen snorted, holding back a laugh. It wasn't every day you saw an Orc poetically describe a tavern wench.
"For starters, those cantaloupes of yours aren't real. Secondly her skin has quite a fair bit of scars. Thirdly her curves are that of a fighter. She hasn't got an ounce of fat on her. And her long hair doesn't go down reach past her ears. If you can't physically tell the difference or even notice that she's got that illusion on, it means she knows what she's doing. Maintaining an illusion like that is nothing to sneeze at." He shook his head, worried.
"I'll spare you the jokes for now though. I'll make those once we're out of the city. For now, do as I say. Try to lure information from her. If there's another force hidden in the city, I want to know. In the meantime, you and I need to do some information shopping. We're located in the right district for it."
"The usual pattern?"
"Yes. I do the asking, you do the protecting."
Daenan nodded and grabbed his weapons. Faen patiently waited for his friend to open the door, something he struggled with due to his tiny size. Then they set off to find Markus, before they'd disappear deeper into the city.

Valdon sprinted through the woods, using the ancient trunks to keep his pursuers from being able to having a clear line of fire at him. His muscles burned with exhaustion and his mind was stretched to the limit as he listened for the tell-tale whistling of the feathers on arrows that indicated a shot coming too close for comfort. If it hadn't been for his skills, honed over the years as a scout, combined with knowing this area like the back of his hand, he would have been caught hours ago. He took a sharp step to the left and lamented that he could not even spare a single breath to sigh in relief as the arrow missed him by a hair's width. He settled for letting the corners of his lips twitch upwards for a brief moment, forming the ghost of a smile. That evaporated a moment later as he heard the barking of dogs.

He cursed himself for having dropped his weapons in order to lessen his load, then realised that if he had not done so he would not have lasted as long as he had. His pursuers were relentless, and well trained. He did not fear for his own life, that was entirely inconsequential in this matter, but he had to reach Lanas and warn them. Warn them of the massive army that was trailing behind him, with their vanguard hot on his tails. The city always had scouts out at a surprisingly far distance, and was seen as the pinnacle of civilisation in a fairly wide radius. The Mayor led it with strict, but fair rules and under his guidance the city had blossomed into a true marvel, with wide, clean roads. It was prosperous, with schools educating its population in matters of physical, spiritual, philosophical and magical nature, which in turn led to further prosperity. Traders from all over the known world visited the marketplace outside its walls to trade in artifacts, tools, resources and so much more. As a result of its wealth, it had been the envy of many nearby kingdoms, none which had ever managed to reach the right mixture of arrogance and stupidity to launch an assault. Aside boasting considerable wealth, both in finances and even more so in technology, it had tremendous defensive capabilities as every citizen pulled double duty as militia, although most of them were more at the level of elite units rather than city-militia.

Yet all that would not last against the oncoming storm. The city only boasted a population of roughly twenty thousand, and the army approaching them, what little he saw of it, boasted at least twenty times that number, and was marching under the flag of the Kingdom of Maltora, meaning that this was not an ill-conceived offensive, but a meticulously planned invasion led by capable officers.

Valdon's thoughts were interrupted as he felt a sizzle in the air and he abruptly reversed directions, running in the direction of his pursuers. It saved his life as a bolt of energy crashed into a tree a scant few feet ahead of him and evaporated everything in a small radius. The shockwave of the blast launched him even closer to the enemy and he lay on the ground, thoroughly disorientated, his muscles aching all over. He was nearing his limit and he knew it. He gritted his teeth. He willed down the despair that was forming a tight knot in his stomach and he got to his feet again, unstable, but unwilling to yield despite the near-overwhelming pain. He ignored the blood streaming down from a gash in his head and started running again. The barking of the dogs was even closer now. He knew he had only a few minutes remaining. He had used every trick he had at his disposal to delay them — led them into the territory of wild animals, tried to trap them in the more swampy areas while he ran ahead using the few well-hidden dry patches, luring them into a remarkably dense undergrowth and trying to shake them off between the leaves and the trees. He had gained time, but all his efforts had only delayed the inevitable.

He heard the tell-tale whistling again and threw himself to the side. His tired body tried to obey, but the hard landing had taken too much out of him and he couldn't dodge the arrow in time. He screamed in pain and fruitless rage as it nailed him in the shoulder, perforating his lamellar armour and the gambeson underneath. Most of the sting had been taken out of the impact, but it was another drop into a rapidly filling bucket. His right shoulder protested as the muscle was grinding against the invasive arrowhead, preventing him from using his right arm. With a primitive scream he reached for the shaft with his left hand and tried to pull it out. Another scream left his mouth and tears filled his eyes as he heard the condemning sound. The shaft had snapped and the head remained lodged in his shoulder.

Overcome by the pain, his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed on the ground, the sound of blood pounding in his ears blocking out everything else. He tilted his head slightly, and pulled out a small knife with his left hand. He gnashed his teeth, felt them nearly break under the pressure, and forced himself to roll onto his back. Slowly, taking much longer than he liked, he felt how the pain receded slightly as adrenaline kicked in. He sat up, dragging his body to lean against the nearest trunk and prepared himself for a final stance. He didn't have to wait long. Within moments the first dogs came running out of the undergrowth, saliva coating their mouths, their small eyes glittering with malice and blood-lust as they spotted their wounded prey. The biggest one, leading the pack, launched itself at him. With a scream that was filled with grim determination, he forced his useless arm to move and threw it up. The dog's maw opened and his teeth sank into it.

It was a strange sensation. He could see how the teeth bit through flesh and bone, hear with perfect clarity how the bite broke his arm, saw the splinters poking out of his skin through the blood that gushed out of the wound. Time slowed down, allowing him to appreciate how the sharp slivers of pain that surged through his body gave him the energy to perform a final, tiny act of defiance. His left arm shot up, using up the last bits of energy that he still had within him. A stray ray of sunlight was reflected off the blade as it crossed the small distance. The tip made contact with the dog's skull, right underneath the ear where the skull was quite thin. It offered the tiniest bit of resistance before it broke. The skin rolled back, the blade piercing through the flesh as he drove the knife into the dog's brain. The teeth came up from his arm as the dog started yelping in pain. He felt his own scream gain in strength as his lungs pumped to push out the breath that supplied it. With sadistic glee in his eyes, Valdon saw how the dog was smashed aside as the yelp was cut off by his knife slicing the beast's brain apart. As the second dog was nearing, a mere moment away from jumping at him and tearing him apart, he made peace with himself. He had done all he could. He had taken one enemy with him, and possibly others when he had lured them into wild animals. He directed his last thoughts to his home city and prayed that it would weather the oncoming siege. He closed his eyes, expecting darkness to overtake him. His expectations were betrayed when a flash of light erupted instead.


Mayor Deftis lowered his hand, the air around him crackling with energy. He overlooked the carnage as the men around him ran towards Valdon. Mia closed her eyes for a brief moment and opened them again, her irises having turned a pure green. Her hands slid across the downed scout's body as she deftly wove thread after thread of rejuvenating energy between herself and him.
"You damn near cooked him!" she yelled at the Mayor, before nodding and adding a slightly more deferential 'sir' at the end.
"Just focus on him," Deftis replied. He shook his hand briefly to extinguish the last of the flames dancing around it. In front of him the forest was simply gone, completely turned to ash, along with Valdon's pursuers. Two dogs were lying on the ground, smoke twisting from their hides. They had been caught by the heatwave of the massive pillar of fire that Deftis had launched at the enemy in a desperate gamble to save his scout. A third lay half on top of the unconscious, wounded scout, an arrow piercing the beast's thick neck. The rest of the small party secured the area, making sure that no other enemies could take them by surprise while Mia healed the scout.

Deftis walked over to his wounded scout and knelt down next to Mia.
"How is he?"
"Bad. It's a miracle he survived this long. He must have been running for damn near two days to get this close to us. Damn it all sir, you should have pulled them back the moment you caught wind of Maltora's invasion."
"I needed the information."
"Couldn't you have acquired it some other way? We've lost a good number of men already, and the war hasn't even begun."
"Do not second guess me, Mia. Heal him to the point he can answer my questions, then we retreat." Deftis stood up. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he had an aura about him that made him seem imposing. This was further enhanced by his stocky built, seeming more like a man who had spent several lifetimes working in a port unloading heavy cargo than as one who ran a city. His cold, mud-brown eyes further added to that image.
Mia was about to make a snarky response when a groan pulled her attention away.
"Valdon? Valdon! Stay still! You're safe now. You're with us."
Valdon's head lolled back, his neck not having regained proper functionality. His eyes were empty as they tried to focus on the origin of the sound.
"M-Mia?"
Deftis ignored the tears on the woman's face as she tenderly held the head of her husband in her arms.
"Valdon, what is coming for us?" he interrupted, earning a murderous glare from Mia which he completely ignored.
"Who... Mayor? Sir? Is that you?"
"It's me, Valdon. What is coming for us?"
"Sir," the scout croaked, relief flooding his face as he sagged down, his entire body relaxing as he realised that he had achieved his goal. "At least two hundred thousand men, sir. Less than a week away at the speed they're marching. Heavy troops and mages—" a cough interrupted him, and he drew a gargled breath.
"He needs to rest!" Mia growled at the Mayor, trying to push him aside.
This time Deftis was the one to throw a withering glare at the mage, who promptly collapsed under it. She was left whimpering quietly.
"—aplenty. And engineers. Too many for us. I didn't see it all, sir."
Deftis turned back towards Valdon, freeing Mia from the spell she was under. She let out a sigh of relief and collapsed, throwing her entire focus on healing her husband.
"You did well Valdon. I won't forget this."

The Mayor rose. Gathering his party with a shout, he started rapidly issuing orders. Within moments a stretcher had been made and Valdon was gently placed on top of it with Mia by his side.
"We return to Lanas with post haste. Niller, Vilsen, Ritta warn the outlying villages, tell them to poison everything and set as many boobytraps as they can, they have till tomorrow evening, then they must retreat to the city. Mandark, run to the Mansion, ask the master for back up, we cannot achieve victory with what we have. Linsa, leave signals for the rest of our vanguard. Have them run interference and ambush any scouts that Maltora sends out. I want them blind. I will arrange a more fitting welcome as soon as we reach home. We'll give them a welcome befitting of our glorious city."
The men and women in question nodded and stormed off to fulfil their tasks, leaving a handful behind to escort the wounded scout and the Mayor back. The group picked up speed as they all but rushed through the dense forest with surprising ease for city-folk. Mayor Deftis' eyes swirled with barely suppressed anger.
They dare attack MY city. The city I was assigned to protect. He knew that the forces he had at his disposal would not survive a direct assault and would be overwhelmed, but if it turned into a siege he would have a chance to hold out long enough to make the invaders lose their morale.

Either way, whether the city survived or not, Maltora would not survive as a kingdom by the time this war was over. This he swore on his name and sigil.




By the time Deftis and his diminished party returned to the outskirts of Lanas, the city was already preparing itself for war. The nearer surrounding villages were moving everything they had behind the sturdy, tall walls. The farmland that directly surrounded the city was being ploughed by mages who specialised in this, digging deep trenches through it all as they made traps for the siege equipment that would undoubtedly be coming. Pitfalls were usually a tactic employed to hinder infantry, but Lanas had plenty of mages with the ability to make them big enough to be lethal traps for siege towers. Deftis nodded as his group joined the stream of people moving towards one of the few gates. The city had contingency plans ready in the case of invasions, and where some cities practised fire drills, his city's preparation went far beyond that.

Aside the massive pitfalls there was a plethora of traps that were being prepared. Caskets of flammable oils were buried underneath the more accessible pathways, with a barrel of oil vapours underneath. Mages walked around, accompanied by other folk that provided muscle. Sigils were added to the barrels, meaning they would detonate under certain conditions. The barrel with vapours would explode with enough force to send the oil all over the units crossing on top, simultaneously disrupting their formation while setting it on fire. Fences were sharpened and turned into long lines of stakes, then laid flat. Craftsmen attached wooden mechanisms with springs every handful of stakes, while others connected the contraptions with wire. A short magical burst would cause the connected section to jump up, creating a lethal barrier for cavalry, or a very annoying hindrance for infantry, who would be trapped behind them while the archers and mages would fire away from the safety of the walls.

The stream of people opened up as they recognised their Mayor, letting him pass. They greeted him with warmth in their voices. They trusted him, unconditionally, to lead them through the oncoming storm. He saw the efficiency with which they moved and felt pride stir within him. He greeted them back, with a nod or a wave, but his expression didn't change. Despite the defences being erected at a pace no other city could match, he knew it would not be enough. His eyes scanned the moat that surrounded his home, with the massive walls just beyond it. Invaders would break their teeth trying to get in, but he knew well that if you threw enough men at a problem, you could exhaust any defence. And their enemy had men to spare. Maltora wasn't coming halfheartedly. Deftis was familiar enough with their royal house to know that he should not underestimate them. The defences of Lanas were renowned. They wouldn't risk an assault without being sure it would not only work, but would also be worth it. In other words, they had tricks up their sleeves as well.

He continued to look over the defences. In the outer villages the people would be busy poisoning wells and preparing to set fire to everything they couldn't take back with them. Livestock would be slaughtered and salted, fields would either be harvested with speed or destroyed. Small traps would be left behind to slow the enemy's advance. On the walls there were more craftsmen along with a handful of mages who did the heavy lifting. Massive siege weapons were constructed at a speed that defied common sense. Enormous beams were whisked up with the aid of magic and hammered in place only mere moments later as they were swarmed by an army of engineers. He looked towards the drawbridge in front of him. He admired his lord for the ingenuity he had displayed when drawing the plans for the city. The walls behind the drawbridge were angled inwards, with heavy beams on top that could slide down to lock it firmly in place. Any invader trying to break into the city couldn't just disconnect the thick chains. Gravity itself would keep it in place, and the beams would prevent an enemy from pulling it down, while the defenders would easily be able to drop it in order to launch a sortie.

He felt a sudden urgency come over him and signalled one of the deputies to bring word of his return to the Praetors. They were the men who led separate parts of the city and were the ones who would lead the different sections of the defence. He thanked Valdon and Mia, bade them good day despite Mia still shooting angry glares at him, and went off. His guards were trying to hide their smiles at Mia was doing a good job of interspersing whispered words of love to her husband with words of anger to the Mayor. Deftis didn't smile. His mind was occupied with other things.

By the time he entered his office in the centre of the city and read up on new missives from his informants, several of his Praetors were already present and the rest followed shortly thereafter. He waited patiently until everyone was gathered, so he could address the fifty-odd people all at once.
"I'll cut to the chase," he started. "The Maltora kingdom has launched a massive invasion with the intent of bringing us to heel. They're serious about it. All our scouts alongside our northern perimeter were killed, except Valdon, whom we managed to rescue in the nick of time. He saw at least two hundred thousand men approaching us, a week away. I think their real strength is around twice that. Reports indicate that they launched a full scale mobilisation and are leaving their defences up to militia, meaning that what we're about to face is their entire army. We're only twenty-three thousand strong. Despite our defensive position and home ground advantage, I cannot stress enough that it is impossible to prevail against that number.."

The Praetors murmured amongst each other, lines of concern marring their faces. None amongst them were young or inexperienced, but from their entire group only Krabdan, the Praetor of the Orcs, and Livi, Praetor of the Gnomes, had ever participated in large scale warfare. For all the others the oncoming battle would be their trial by fire.
Livi raised her hand, indicating her desire to speak. Deftis nodded towards her, giving permission. The rest of the Praetors fell silent as the tiny Gnome, small even by the standards of her race, struggled to get on top of the chair in order to become more visible.
"Right," she said, her old voice rumbling through the assembly hall. "I have to ask, Mayor, why are they invading? Pulling their entire army together and marching into the south leaves them unprotected from every daring neighbour that they have. We are rich, but even if they could somehow defeat us without losing a single soldier, they'd still lose more than they would gain. Even their more pacifist neighbours would launch raids, not to mention the Trivistan Empire to the north. They'd surely launch an invasion, especially given how the Maltorans aren't the most virtuous when it comes to the religion of that Lord character, while the Empire is damn zealous and loves to use it as an excuse for invasions."
Deftis nodded. It was a fair point, and sadly enough he had an answer to it.
"I fear it is a ploy by Trivistan. They stirred rebellions in the surrounding nations and had one of their nobles sign a non-aggression treaty. They're likely going to 'punish' that noble and rescind their treaty, saying that a noble has no right to sign it. So the Maltorans find themselves under the illusion that they possess secure borders and a chance to expand their territories to the south. They probably believe that rumours of our defences are blown out of all proportion and that we are an easy and attractive prey. Should they come to possess our technological advantages, that would allow them to break out of the stalemate with the Empire, which is their ultimate goal."
"We're not that advanced in terms of military, the logistics required to properly deploy what we have is ridiculous. The demands alone—" began Krabdan, before being interrupted by the Mayor.
"They're not after our military tech. It's a nice bonus, but their main objective is our agricultural knowledge. They're a nation of farmers, and it isn't exactly a secret that our output is about a third of their entire kingdom. Little wonder they want what we have, they could dominate the market that way."
Krabdan grunted in agreement and withdrew himself from the discussion, only to be replaced by Lifär, the Praetor of the fairies.
"If we cannot win, Mayor, why don't we retreat? We could just abandon the city, tear it down if you must, but wouldn't preserving our lives be more important?"

Everyone in the room held their breath. Lifär was the youngest Praetor by far, and had only been a citizen for handful of years before rising to that rank. Unlike the other Praetors, he was not aware of the weight Deftis carried.
Lifär looked around, realising something was amiss but not quite able to grasp what. Then a part of the table broke off as Deftis' fingers held it so tightly the wood itself splintered. The sound rang through the room, somehow enhancing the silence. Pure, red-hot anger was fighting a visible battle with his self-control as Deftis gave the fairy a stare that made the small being regret his choice of words.
Livi, seeing that the Mayor was in no fit state to speak and that Lifär had not been informed regarding the origins of the city and Deftis' role in it, coughed loudly, breaking the spell of silence that hung around them like a shroud.
"Lifär, what do you know of the Mansion in the Woods?"




"The Mansion?" Lifär squeaked, visibly distraught over the Mayor struggling to hold back a tide of unbridled fury.
Livi nodded passionately and made a shushing movement towards Deftis. It didn't have any effect on the man himself, but it did slightly calm down the panicking Faerie.

"Right. I'm going to be as brief as possible, as we are short enough on time as it is. The lord of the Mansion is the one who founded this city... I don't know how many years ago. Long ago. Long enough for the origins to have long since faded in obscurity. For all that time, the Mayor serves to lead the city, the Praetors serve the Mayor. All the technology, skills, knowledge, everything that our city is famous is for stems from the Founder. Deftis serves the Founder. The city serves the Founder. And it just so happens that one of the very specific tasks of the Mayor is to hold the city, to let it flourish and rule it well. The city is more important than the inhabitants. There are... reasons why we cannot retreat. Reasons I can honestly make a few guesses at — stop giving me the evil eye Deftis, I'm not going to voice them — but as such, we stand our ground or we die. Of course, there is one more very simple reason why we will not retreat." The tiny Gnome gestured to Krabdan.
The Orc stood up, raising himself to his full, impressive height and looked around the table, making solid eye contact with everyone before focusing on the small Lifär. The man's eyes burned with determination.
"This is our city!" he thundered, slamming his fist down onto the table with enough force to leave an imprint. "We will not abandon it! We have tended it, nurtured it and seen it grow and prosper! This is our home! All around us are nations that would kill all of us who sit at this table without a second thought purely because for who we are! I will die a bloody death before I let some blasted king take this from me! Let them come! Let them outmatch us! We shall hold and they shall pay the price!"

Livi smiled as Krabdan's thunderous speech was met with wild approval and was pleased to see Deftis finally start to calm down. She gave Krabdan a wink and grinned when the much taller being winked back. Both of them had been friends for decades and could play to each other strength's perfectly. She was about to start speaking again when an icy cold flooded the room, paralysing her.

I am sorry I am late, Deftis. A voice devoid of life filled the room. Livi felt her hairs stand up on end while Lifär, who wasn't familiar with the newcomer and as a Faerie was hit much harder by its presence than the others, launched himself into the ceiling in a blind panic. She was relieved when Diniras, Praetor of the magical Slivir'i, stepped forward on his hoof-like legs and cast a spell on the poor creature, shielding him from its presence.

In the midst of the table flickers of pale-blue energy merged together until a ghost-like apparition formed. Despite having met it before, Livi felled uneasy. The creature was as loyal to the city as all those present, and no less sentient despite it's alien appearance, but aside Deftis nobody felt comfortable around it. Its very essence seemed to conflict with life.

"What—" Lifär began, before swallowing loudly, his small eyes wide with fear. "What is that?"
The strange creature, lacking eyes or a solid form, somehow visibly turned its attention towards the Faerie, who recoiled to the very edge of the shield of energy surrounding him.
I'm sorry that my presence disturbs you, Lifär. I cannot help being who I am. The ghastly voice rang through the room without sound, more a dark, cold presence on their minds than being a spoken sound. Yet, fear not. I am on your side. I am a guardian of Lannas. Just like Deftis, I exist to protect the city. So my Creator has commanded.
The creature turned back to Deftis, who seemed to be immune to the icy aura that shrouded the being. "It's good that you have come. I didn't know how far you'd be when I summoned you. There's an enemy approaching. My estimate is roughly four hundred thousand men. Their vanguard will be here in a handful of days. The city will be locked within a week, two at most. Do you think there is any chance that you could delay them?"
You cannot hope to prevail against that number, Deftis. What is your plan? the creature whispered back.
"I shall hold the city until my last breath. Both walls and citizens alike. That is my duty."
Answer my question Deftis. the being repeated, its voice growing colder.
"I have sent a runner to the Mansion to request reinforcements," Deftis replied, finally showing a small sign of unease in front of the ghostly existence.
The Mansion is far away. It is not easy to reach. I hope your runner makes it, and with good speed, the creature continued. It floated closer to Deftis, frost forming on the table as it hovered slightly above it. A number of red orbs began appearing throughout its form, quickly glowing brighter as the chill spread, the wood creaking as the water inside began to freeze.
He will send aid. The city cannot fall for reasons beyond your understanding. Protect it Deftis. No matter the cost. Your restrictions are lifted. Fear nothing but failure.
"I don't need reminders of duty! I know mine well!" Deftis roared in anger, slamming his fists down on the table. His brown eyes were filled with red-hot anger as he matched the creature's gaze.

The creature pulled back as its form started swirling, the red orbs floating inside it. They were ablaze with light now while the light in the room seemed to dim. Frost started forming all over and the creature seemed to grow more agitated with every moment until it let out a powerful and feral screams. A strong flash of cold flooded the room and the windows shattered. It turned back towards Deftis, its form covering most of the room now, most of the Praetors cowering behind their chairs.
I shall delay them Deftis! I shall give you two weeks before their vanguards makes it here. I shall tear apart as many as I can! They shall be exhausted when they arrive! Do your duty Mayor! What we were assigned to guard cannot fail!

Letting out a shriek that penetrated flesh and wall alike, the creature dispersed, its ghastly wail only slowly dissipating.
It took a long time before anyone dared to speak again.
"Blasted unstable thing," Deftis cursed, wiping the frost of himself with a sharp movement.
Livi, who was one of the few Praetors who had met the creature before, shook her head slowly. "I don't like it much either Deftis. Look at what it did! Poor Lifär's out cold! Passed out from fear no doubt."
"Hah," grunted Krabdan. "Please, as if there's one of us who wouldn't pass out if it actually came at us with the intent to kill."
Diniras stepped forward, his lithe form belying the strength of the magical shield crackling around him. "What was that thing?" he asked, curiosity visible in his large, white eyes.
Deftis shook his head. "Not what. Who. Like me it's assigned to protect this place. We merely guard different locations."
Diniras gave Deftis an annoyed look. "I am not a child, Deftis. I fully understood who it was. I meant it. What is that? I've never seen anything like it before."
Deftis grinned. "Neither have you ever seen anything like me, Din. It's not a... How to put it. It is not something born through natural means, it was brought into life through means I honestly know nothing of, but it is powerful. A creature of spirit. Even with your magic you'd be hard pressed to go against it. For all its strength, however, it is still mortal and can die. Its abilities do not lay in direct combat. Still, I would advice against picking a fight against it. It's quite insane by our standards. Now, wake up those who passed out and let's focus on the defence again. We have much to discuss, and at least now we have a fair amount of time to plan everything."

Livi threw a sideways glance at Deftis before turning back to Krabdan, who nodded at her. They had both seen the same thing. Deftis was seemingly calm again, but both of them knew him long enough to see through his act. If he summoned that thing, it meant the situation was beyond dire. The Mayor was nervous and was doing a good job of hiding his rage, but not a perfect job.

Then Krabdan threw her another look and it took her a moment before she realised what it meant. The creature had said something along the lines of lifting restrictions. She narrowed her eyes as she carefully observed the Mayor. 'Never seen anything like you either, huh?' she thought. 'Then what are you?'

Lissa hid behind her shield, standing in between the raging battle and the twins, who for once had seen sense and abandoned their usual reckless behaviour. Trista stood a few dozen feet further, partially embedded in a wall. She was hidden behind her large shield, which was a wise decision. The Paladin turned her attention to the light-show that was tearing the marketplace apart. The rest of the militia had retreated or fled. Those that had been fortunate to escape the battle at least, at least half of the group of brave men that had accompanied them to apprehend the witch were dead, caught between hammer and anvil as the forces of Light and Darkness clashed in what could only be described as an epic battle.

Lissa had witnessed plenty of battles were magic was involved, but never something of this scale. The Priestess, despite her exhaustion, proved to be truly adept at magic. The Paladin was not an expert on the matter, her own magical abilities being incredibly limited compare to what the two women were unleashing at one another, but even the blind could see how the air itself sundered at the titanic energies that were being unleashed.
However, for all the Priestess' abilities, the witch countered her every move. The Priestess, in turn, blocked any counterattack that the witch unleashed. Whenever two attacks met each other in between the two parties, the energies would spiral out of control and explode, sending powerful shockwaves that flattened everything in their immediate surrounding and toppled over anything that was not nailed down. If it weren't for their heavy training and magically reinforced equipment, Lissa had no doubt both she and her Knight would have shared the faith of the dead militia-men.

She looked over to where Trista was and was pleased to see the woman still standing at the ready, having managed to climb out of the wall she had been smashed in. Her helmeted face peered over her shield as she observed the battlefield with a seeming lack of emotion. Lissa knew her better than most, though, and knew the woman was trying to discern a pattern she could use to join the attack. She wasn't stupid and knew that blindly rushing in would distract the Priestess and only get them both killed. Unlike normal weaponry, magic could attack in more than just straight lines, and it was clear from Trista's hesitation that she knew that only her shield could take a direct attack. If one of those attacks hit her from the side, or worse, the back, she'd be torn apart instantaneously.
Trista suddenly seemed to see something and briefly turned to Lissa. Exchanging signals with the briefest of movements, both parties being unable to move their shield much, the two Warriors nodded solemnly at one another. Then Trista took a small step forward, her eyes fully focusing on the battle as she started to slide along the wall, towards the witch.


Glissandi was having a hard time. In raw strength she had the upper hand, but the witch's training somehow exceeded her own. The attacks the vile woman launched at her lacked punch, but were all the more insidious. They pierced layers of her defences and it was only due to her massive energy reserves that she was able to hold her ground. Unlike a battle between two skilled swordsmen, a fight between mages was devoid of the parties moving. Both stood their ground, shields flaring up so strongly they became visible to the naked eye. Energies sundered around them and distorted the air while both mages tried to obliterate one another relentlessly. Attacks pierced the air, hidden and unseen to those not versed in magic, crashing into the opponent's defenses or meeting another attack mid-way, resulting in explosions every time.

Her shields shook as the witch launched a broad assault, countless spears of dark energy colliding against the golden field. Glissandi gritted her teeth and moved her arms, gathering energy and throwing it in a straight line at her enemy. The witch's shields flared up as more energy was poured into them. It grew so dense that the woman behind it was obscured by pure darkness. Then the golden ray slammed into it and the witch took several steps back, her shield unbroken. Glissandi's vicious grin was met with a feral growl as the witch lost some of her composure. The woman couldn't keep it up. The Priestess was outclassed in ability, but not in strength. With the Lord on her side, she'd triumph. Darkness could not prevail against the Light!

Her hopes were dashed as a needle-sharp offensive smashed into her shield from the side and sent her flying. She crashed into the ground, hard, felt her skin rupture as she slid across the rough stones. Before she could regain her bearings several more attacks hit her shield and she was sent skidding again. More attacks followed but this time she countered with a broad wave of energy, dispersing them. She stood up, truly furious. She met the witch's gaze, saw the confidence in the woman's eyes, the disdain for her opponent and all she stood for. When the creature of Darkness laughed that musical laughed, Glissandi could feel how her eyes started twitching. She brought her hands up in order to launch another offensive of her own, refusing to yield, when a massive blast came down from the sky like lightning and tore into her shield with more strength than she had thought possible. She felt the pressure wash down over her as her shield lost its shape and desperation bubbled to the surface. Then the attack faded and relief flooded over her for the briefest of moments, before she felt the same energy gather above her again. Looking up to the sky in despair, she had only time to whisper the Lord's name before the next attack came down on her, this one even stronger than the last one.


Trista saw how the battle was unfolding in their opponent's favour. The Priestess was starting to buckle, holding her shield up with lines of fear visible on her face. She grunted as she kept sliding across the wall. She was no expert in judging the magical strength of people, but she was quite certain that the Priestess was the stronger one by a fair margin. The reason as to why the witch was winning despite that was as plain as rain to her. The witch had combat experience, the Priestess didn't. And it was clear that the witch had caught Glissandi off-guard and put the Priestess on her back foot. She was panicking now, and that was bad. If Glissandi fell, the rest of her party would follow shortly there-after. She'd lose those around her again.

The scar on her face heated up as anger took root in the core of her soul. No. Not again. she thought with grim determination. She'd die before she would let that happen again. She may not believe in the Lord, and have lost her faith in the Order to an extent, but the Priestess had been placed in her care. They were not only her sword, but also her shield. And a shield would break before harm could befall its wearer. Lissa could not interfere, the moment she moved the Squires would be blown apart. She couldn't launch an assault herself, the witch would simply switch targets for a moment and obliterate her.

Yet, wouldn't that buy the Priestess time for a counterattack?
Trista raised her sword and made up her mind.


Glissandi was panicking. Attack after attack crashed into her shield, and what was once a perfect circle of golden energy was now heavily dented, cracks appearing around the zone of impact, their number and size increasing with each consecutive blow. She was afraid. She knew she should be afraid of the Light losing to Darkness, of failing in her duties, that her loss would cause the death of countless believers, of her party members, but all that raged in her mind was the thought that she didn't want to die. Another blast tore into her shield and she was smashed into the ground, barely managing to keep her hand out so she could keep reinforcing her shield. How was the witch doing this? How could she keep up this relentless assault without tiring? Her own muscles trembled with exhaustion, her once angelic face marred with the ugly emotions of pure fear and exasperation. She was going to die! She didn't want to die! Lord above, she was scared.

Then a determined scream tore her out of her thoughts.


Using the wall as a stepping stone, Trista launched herself forward. With every step the Knight gained speed, launching into a full sprint only a moment after starting. With an absurd amount of speed for such a heavily armoured person, she stormed at the witch, her sword held low, mostly behind her shield. The witch was pulled away from her offensive and was obviously taken off guard by the sudden assault, her cocky grin dissipating at the sight of the charging Knight. Heavy shield held in front of her, her winged helmet peeking out just above it, a strong determination in her every step and an absolute murderous aura shrouding her, Trista was a frightening sight to behold. It managed to shake the witch's composure for a moment before her battle instincts kicked in and she launched a powerful wave at the Knight.

Trista felt the attack more than that she saw it, and knew that she could take it head on, but that she would be blasted back into, if not through, the wall behind her. It would leave the Priestess open to a follow up attack, as the woman would be too disorientated to have done more than reinforce her shield again, inexperienced to real battle as she was. Disregarding her own safety, the Knight threw her shield into the attack. Magical energies collided with the shield and the attack dispersed in an explosion that sent the shield flying. Trista had aimed her shield well enough that the resulting blast launched it just besides her, rather than through her. The witch's eyes widened as she realised that her attack hadn't tore the Knight apart, and that she was still coming, and was now much closer.

She waved her hands about and gathered more energy and prepared to launch a vast amount of small attacks, giving the Knight no chance to survive to counterattack when Trista suddenly threw her sword. It spun around the air in a straight line at the witch. Blindly firing off her attack, she threw herself to the side as the magically reinforced sword slashed through her barrier with ease, the blade only lightly nicking her.

Trista saw the attacks coming and knew she had no chance of dodging it. Yet she would not yield. She would strive to survive until her last breath left her. She tried to feel where most of the attacks would come from and threw herself in the opposite direction. Then they hit her and darkness consumed her.


"Trista!" screamed Lissa, having been forced to witness the entire exchange without being able to interfere. She had to watch on helplessly as the Priestess had panicked, only to earn a slight reprieve as the Knight sacrificed herself, nearly managing to take out the witch with her attack. Then the witch eliminated the threat in turn and Lissa felt hot tears stream across her face as Trista was blown away, her body sent flying through the nearby wall and possibly several others, like a rag-doll. She was about to abandon all reason and charge at the witch herself when thunder roared and split the air, nearly causing her to drop her shield. The twins behind her were less sturdy on their feet and fell over. Lissa's gaze traversed from the hole in the wall, over the witch, who for the first time since the battle started was looking frightened, towards Glissandi.


Trista was gone. Due to her. She had failed. Had surrendered to fear and panic and had abandoned her training. Because of her inexperience, her failure, a brave Knight of the Order was gone. Because of that bitch in front of her, dozens of militia-men were death, a child was nearly murdered and Trista was gone. And only the Lord could know how many other atrocities she had committed.
"No more!" she screamed, the air around her ablaze with energies as her mind broke free from the mental conditioning she had endured for years. During all the mock battles she had performed in the Monastery, she had always been forced to hold back, to control her energy, to not go all out. That training had taken such hold that she had forgotten that she had more strength than what she had wielded so far. With her fury burning unbridled within her, that block was gone.

The darkness surrounding the witch was struggling to maintain its existence against the golden rays that were radiating from the Priestess as she accessed reserves she had all but forgotten existed. The witch held up her hand in desperation, realising that she had no chance against her opponent.
"You can't! You'll blow up the city! Think of the innocents!" she screamed, attempting to discourage the Priestess from her attack.
The Priestess considered her words for a brief moment, then realised that if this creature survived many more would die.
"You have a point," the Priestess admitted, controlled fury seeping through her voice, and simply shifted the angle of her attack. The witch only had time to scream before a pillar of light struck down on her from the heavens and wiped her out of existence.




Glissandi sagged down onto her knees, her strength utterly expelled. She barely had any energy left to be angry at herself with. She had messed up, thoroughly. Sure, her teachers had haunted her for years that she needed to control her strength, needed to use less, not show off just how impossibly large her reserves were, but just because she had buried those final reserves and had nearly forgotten about them due to years of training, didn't mean it excused her for not using them when it actually mattered.
Worse than that was the simple fact that she had panicked. Retreated in fear. She was a servant of the Light and the Lord! Yet she had cowered in fear from the Dark as it encroached on her. Had wanted nothing more than to flee for her life, so she could live. If the witch had left her an opportunity, Glissandi feared that her frightened mind would have gladly taken it. In her blind desire to live she had abandoned her duty, her friends, her ideals, everything she stood for! She had been a selfish coward.

It wasn't until Trista had jumped in to save her, give her an opportunity to strike back, that Glissandi had gathered her wits again. It had been too late for the Knight though. A powerful mage had no trouble dealing with a Knight, no matter how tough or resilient they may be.
"Oh Lord, Trista!" she shouted, thoughts of the Knight jumping back to the front of her mind. She turned her head, scanning the walls for where the brave woman had been blasted through and saw the two Squires running towards her. She tried to stand and found that her legs refused to work. Growling at herself with irritation, she attempted it again, but her body was devoid of energy after her last attack and her limbs went numb. She saw the cobblestones approaching her face quickly when the Squires caught her at the last moment.
"Priestess, are you alright?" one of the Squires asked, her face hidden in the shadows cast from her helmet.
"Mira?" Glissandi struggled to make out which one of the twins it was. To her they were still indistinguishable from one another.
"Mina, Priestess," the girl corrected, "but it is no matter. Are you alright?"
"Tired... I... Is Trista—"
"I don't know," came a soft response from the other side.
'That must be Mira then,' the Priestess thought.
"Paladin Lissa is going to check on her." It was obvious from the tone of the girl's voice that she was fraught with worry over the Knight's fate.
"Her armour should have kept the magic from penetrating her, but the impact on itself..." Mira trailed off, leaving the verdict unspoken. Glissandi did not need to see the girl's aura to hear the tinge of hope being drowned out in a sea of desperation. The Priestess closed her eyes and was not ashamed when she felt hot tears drip down her face.


"Trista!" shouted Lissa. A beam blocked her passage, jutting from the ceiling. The angry Paladin did not waste time trying to squirm around it, instead using her sword to slice through it, causing the heavy wooden barricade to drop down, clearing out the passage. She did not fight against her anger, letting it flow through her instead. She drew on it as a source to let her move faster, act more efficiently. The thoughts that accompanied the anger she locked away. She let them fester on her own while the active part of her mind focused on the objective. She could still hear them, but they mattered little to her.
There were plenty thoughts that fuelled her anger, however, and she knew she'd need to face them sooner rather than later, lest they influence her judgement. As her arms pulled debris out of the way, her innate strength further boosted with her armour's abilities, she focused on them momentarily. Yes, the Priestess had panicked. There was reason to be angry with her, but on the other hand the opponent had been the strongest witch the Paladin had ever seen. Skillful beyond compare, on top of the foul woman's considerable ability. In truth, she could not blame the Priestess. She had been untested in combat and had held her own. Any other Priestess she had travelled with in the past would have died in mere moments. Yet, redirecting your anger and hate at a dead woman wasn't quite as fulfilling as aiming it at the living.

The debris gave way and she dismissed those thoughts, storming through the opening into the next house.
"Damn woman! How many walls did you fly through?" It was a shout without anger. The Knight had performed admirably, displayed bravery without compare. She had assaulted a mage, willingly walking to her death, and had given her all to delay that final moment as much as possible. She had succeeded. The witch had been distracted, wounded, and given the penultimate scare of her life. She silently prayed to the Lord, hoping against all reasons that the Knight would still be alive. That she still could be saved.

Her training kicked in just as she was about to storm through the next barrier of debris. She had heard something. She changed the angle of her sword and took off in a sprint, crashing through the handful of planks that blocked her way and rolling into the next room. In a blink she pulled her shield up to cover her, wary of an enemy attack. In the next she let her eyes flash over the scene, taking in information. Trista on the ground, half her armour gone, massive bruises all over her body. Looming over her, an incredibly tall man, hidden in a coat, pieces of her armour laying on a neat pile next to him.
Grave robber! her mind screamed at her. With a loud roar, she jumped back to her feet and launched herself forward, her shield to her side and her sword aimed at the man's centre mass in a powerful thrust. The man stood up, swifter than she had assumed, but she had fought Trolls before and her sword's tip followed the movement. The Paladin crossed the distance in an instant when the man moved again. A large hand, covered in bark, jumped forth from his coat and grabbed the sword. Lissa's expectations were shattered when the man's hand remained intact, despite that her blade could cut through magic with ease, and he actually pushed her sword aside. Rather than try to free her blade, which would leave her open for a counterattack, she brought her shield up. She slid her left foot forward, pulled on her blade to use it as a counterweight, and smashed the heavy shield into the man's side. She saw his other arm flash up in a desperate attempt to ward it off, and she grinned. The tremendous impact forced the man to take several steps to the side and the gust of wind it created blew the man's hood off. Except it was not a man at all.

Glowing green eyes, embedded deeply in a skin of rough bark, stared at her. Her eyes flashed down, to the hand holding onto her blade. Green fluids slowly dripped from it, glowing slightly in the ill-lit interior of the house. She was not facing a man at all. She didn't know what creature this was. It towered above her, its strength more than a match for hers, given that even the blow with the shield didn't seem to faze it. Then the smell hit her. The scent of herbs, of earth, of water, of nature. She hadn't noticed it before, but it was dense and powerful, this close to the being.
"Cease your violence, human," the being's voice rumbled in a deep bass. It was the sound of roots breaking stone. "Or your companion will not survive."
Lissa's determination, which had wavered momentarily, flared back up. She moved closer, intending on using her shield as leverage to pull her sword free, when she felt the being's arm push against her shield. It seemed a lazy, casual move, as if one would swat a fly, but it sent her tumbling backwards. She let go of her sword, knowing that if she held on she'd fall, leaving her at his mercy. She got her bearing back in moments and pulled out a mace, knowing a sword would do little good against a being with bark this tough, and prepared to advance again when she realised the creature was ignoring her again. Instead, his thick fingers were delicately dismantling Trista's armour once again, revealing more of her torn gambeson and the bruises underneath. At the same time she noticed that the Knight's chest wasn't moving, and that her eyelids were wide open. The Knight was staring up into the void, her eyes broken, devoid of life.
"You—" she commenced, before the being interrupted her.
"Mostly trauma induced to the violent physical impact. Organs have taken severe damage, but not beyond repair. Armour obviously mitigated most of the damage, so nothing is pierced. Eyelids have shown little reaction when I first arrived, so a heavy concussion is likely. Given the damage from her armour, she took heavy blows all over. Honestly I'm surprised she wasn't torn apart by that storm. Oh, also her pulse is gone."
Lissa paused. The being's voice and demeanor reminded her of the medics in the Order. The being kept dismantling the armour as he turned to her.
"You humans would very likely describe her as clinically dead. Her mind has not yet given up the fight, however, even if only a flicker is remaining. You are quite fortunate I was keeping an eye out on Cassandra and saw what happened."
Lissa opened her mouth to speak when the final piece of armour was tossed aside. The being spread his large hand open, hooked his fingers at the base of Trista's gambeson and casually moved his hand from her legs towards her head, the bark slicing through it all as if it were a sharp knife, leaving the Knight bare.
Lissa put down her mace, deciding to trust her instincts. The being behaved exactly like the medics did. Factual, distant, barely aware of what happened around them when they focused on a patient. She did not know what manner of creature it was, hadn't even heard of something that looked similar to it, but she didn't care very much either. It mattered little, in the end. What mattered was that Trista was dead. Except that the being acted as if that was but a minor hindrance.

Having stripped the Knight of all her clothing, the full extent of the damage she had taken became visible. Ugly bruises, of all shapes and colours, dotted the Knight's body. There were plenty of scars on them as well, from previous engagements, especially around the face and neck, from where Lissa knew she had been hit by a Troll before, and they stood out all the more on the plethora of colours that covered nearly every inch of her skin. The being seemed unperturbed by the state of the Knight, however, and simply spread his fingers on her body, lightly pressing the tips down against her skin. Seeing just how massive his hands were compared to the Knight's body made her realise the actual size of the creature. The coat had hidden it well, but it was nearly twice as tall as she was. Observing it carefully, she discovered that it was bending over. If it fully stood up, it was likely to be taller than a Troll.

A gentle, green light flooded from his fingers and seeped into Trista, pulling Lissa's attention back. The light was almost liquid in nature. It pooled in a few places on her skin, before being sucked through the pores. It slipped into her veins, flowing through them. All of them lit up in that same calming, strangely peaceful green colour. The bruises diminished at an astonishing pace. The yellow, blue and purple colours rapidly fading back to the normal pink. Scars lit up as beacons in the night as the light engulfed them and seemed to struggle with them, before giving up and moving further along her body. The being moved his fingers, guiding the light through her body. As his one hand moved down, the other moved towards her head.
"Fluids pooling in her cranial cavity. The pressure would kill her. You humans aren't yet capable of operating on this. Your magic can fix it, but you do not know how it works. It is a sad thing." The being's eyes turned towards Lissa for a moment, and genuine sadness seemed to pool there, immeasurably deep. Then he returned his focus towards Trista. Lissa looked on curiously when he held the Knight's head in his massive palm, and spread two fingers wide, one against each of her ears. She shouted, jumping up, when small roots shot forth from his tips and disappeared into the Knight's head. She felt no urge to stop him, but that did not make looking at the process any less frightening. She resisted the urge to clasp her hands over her own ears and felt a shiver run down her spine, an emotion she thought she had left behind decades ago.

The roots started to swells lightly as they turned red. The Paladin realised that these must be the fluids that the being mentioned before. After a brief moment the flow stopped, and the green light appeared in its place, flowing into the Knight's head this time. Lissa usually prided herself on being hard to disturb, but when the Knight's skull started glowing green, she could not help but describe the sight of it as incredibly eerie, despite the light itself being soothing. There was just something about the sight of a human's head being lit up like a magic lamp that seemed incredibly off.

Then the roots pulled out of her head, disappearing back into the being's fingers. Lissa looked up and down at the Knight's body and realised that it had returned to normal. Gone were the bruises and damage. Yet the Knight's eyes were still broken, devoid of life. The being leaned over her, bringing his lips onto hers with a tender care. Seconds ticked by as Lissa could only stare on helplessly, when all of a sudden the being withdrew himself at the same instance that Trista jumped up, coughing loudly. The Paladin barely noticed the dark brown flecks of spit that came from the Knight's mouth, as she took the younger woman in a crushing hug, leaving the freshly revived Knight gasping for breath.

The being pulled the two apart instantly however.
"Let her get her bearings," he lectured the Paladin sternly. Lissa, instinctively submitting to the voice of medical authority, nodded politely and pulled back. She looked at the being instead, curiously. She had fought side by side with some non-humans before, that were allies of the Light. It seemed this being was one of them. That was not a matter for the Warriors of the Order to discover though. Perhaps the Priestess would know more. For now, she was more than content that Trista was still alive.

The being slowly leaned back from a still coughing Trista, who from the looks of things seemed utterly lost. The deep, green eyes focused on Lissa.
"Well then, I believe we should have a chat about some things. Namely the woman you just murdered on the square."




Lissa's eyes narrowed at the being's choice of words.
"Murdered, you say?"
The being blinked, layers of bark slowly grinding in front of his eyelids, before moving back in their original position.
"Yes. Murdered. Is there a different word for when a sentient forcefully terminates the life of another? Cassandra did not want to die, was healthy, and would have lived many more years if you had not killed her."
Lissa's eyes narrowed further as her hand slid back towards the handle of her mace. In the background, Trista was still coughing, trying to get a modicum of breath back into her body.
"You were with her then?" Lissa asked, narrowly managing to keep herself from sounding overly threatening.
The being pondered the question, bringing his hand up to what seemed to be his chin, and tapped on it.
"In a way. I followed her to... limit the damage she caused."
Lissa's hand relaxed slightly at the answer.
"You knew she murdered innocents?"
"She enjoyed causing harm without reason. She relished dealing pain. She was a monster who needed to be stopped!"
Lissa had taken a quick step back. The being had grown more animated as he spoke and had seemingly become taller as he did. Not having forgotten the strength he had, not to mention whatever strange magics he had at his disposal, she had slipped into a defensive stance almost subconsciously.
"I..." Lissa began, then paused. "I suggest you speak to the Priestess about this. She was the one who fought this... Cassandra, and brought an end to her rampage."
The being nodded and turned around. He stretched out his arm, the massive limb fully sliding out of his coat. It was less thick than that of a Troll, and the bark hid the muscles that Lissa knew were there perfectly well. He grabbed a curtain and gave it a short tug, tearing it loose. Picking up the still coughing Trista in a fast, but gentle movement, he held her up in the air for a short moment, his hand covering most of her back and his fingers holding her up underneath her shoulders. Using the other, he quickly wrapped the curtain around her, providing her with a modicum of decency.
"That seems like a good idea," he responded, turning towards the Paladin. "Let us go then."

Despite the being's massive size, he seemed to have little issue navigating the debris that littered the path that Trista had unwillingly taken when she had been blasted out of the square. His broad legs parted stone and wood as if they were mere blades of grass. It made a lot more noise than grass though, wood splintering and stones turning to dust. If this strange creature was made of bark, as it seemed, then he was a lot tougher than any tree she was familiar with. She didn't know what to make of him. Her instincts told her that he was harmless. How he had behaved like a medic wasn't a behaviour that was easily faked. Either he was a master of deception, or he genuinely was a medic. Given how he had saved the Knight, she believed it was the latter. Yet there were many things that were strange. On one hand, he was obviously acquainted with the witch, even if he seemed to disagree with what she did, but he had seen her demise as murder. On the other hand, however, he had saved Trista, even when he had no reason to, as he had more than enough raw strength at his disposal to be a genuine threat to her, even with her training and equipment. She was going with her instincts for now, though her hand never wavered far from her mace. She needed more information before she could make an accurate judgement. She knew that Evil appeared in all forms after all.
"How is your hand?" she asked. A seemingly innocent question.
"It is fine. It was but a minor cut, and has healed already."
'He heals at an astonishing pace then,' she realised.
"Do you specialise in healing then?"
The being harumphed. "Not even an apology for cutting me in the first place?" He paused and Lissa turned, finding herself being pointed at by a very thick finger, as if he were lecturing her. "You humans are fortunate I am not like the one who taught me. And even more so that I lack the pride so many of my fellows possess."
He started walking again, nearly trampling Lissa underfoot. She quickly hurried on, realising that while the being may claim it did not possess pride, it wasn't above giving her a kick that would likely leave her thoroughly bruised.
"To answer your question; yes, I specialise in healing. I am adept in it, more so than any other I have met, save one. Even among my kin, there is none who approach my talent. Ah, there is the Priestess you spoke of. Are those two others friends of yours?"
Lissa nodded. "Mira and Mina, Squires of the Order. The one in between them is Glissandi, the Priestess."
Without waiting for her to finish her introduction, the being glided past her with surprising delicacy given that he shared the body-size with that of a Troll, who were quite well known for possessing the opposite of grace.

The Squires reacted fairly normally to the apparition of a giant with limbs and a face made of bark, that was holding the dazed, but alive, form of someone they clearly thought dead. That is to say, they jumped back, letting the obviously exhausted Priestess crash into the cobblestones, and drew their weapons, swearing extensively throughout the process. When they spotted Lissa, however, they calmed down remarkably, but they didn't sheath their blades. The being ignored them both and simply walked towards the Priestess, who had landed badly, hitting her temple on the stones, and had been knocked out by the impact. The being grumbled, shifted Trista so she was only laying on one arm, and picked the unconscious Priestess up.
"It would seem our talk will have to be delayed. I assume you have residence somewhere in the city?"
The twins backed up a bit more as the creature loomed over them and gave them both a questioning stare.
'Do you think he's an enemy?' Mira thought towards her sister. She felt a wave of angry confusion in response. It was at times like these that Mira really wished her sister had mastered the ability to think in words rather than emotions.
'Paladin Lissa's over there. She's keeping calm. I don't think he's a threat?'
Her sister radiated back a desire to attack and Mira responded by mentally slapping her with an utterly horrified feeling.
'He's holding both the Priestess and Knight Trista! Not to mention that even Paladin Lissa is even keeping her distance! Don't tell me you hadn't noticed that?'
When Mina sent back a reluctant response of shame, Mira had to fight off the urge to slap her sister. The girl would've engaged an opponent even the Paladin was wary of.
'You'll get us both killed one day if you don't learn to curb your aggression.' Mira sent her twin a clear image of her shaking her head in disappointment, and threw in a chastising look for good measure.


"Squires, we're packing up. Mira, stay with me to escort our guest to the inn. Mina, find the nearby groups of militia and tell them that the danger has been dealt with, but forbid them from entering the square for now. I want the Priestess to take a look at everything afterwards and I don't want them disturbing the site, or us for the time being. I'll deal with Captain Dar." Lissa gave Mina a short look that made it clear that the Paladin had caught on to the girl's aggression and that she was being sent away as a precaution. Then she gave Mira a different look that told her to remain on her guard. The twins gave a near imperceptible nod in return. Despite the situation, Lissa felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Travelling with capable people was a blessing, even if one of her party still lacked practical experience.
As she guided the strange being who carried her two party members through the empty streets, she felt strangely safe. Despite the fierce lectures she had given the Priestess earlier in regards to safety, the Paladin often relied on her instincts. They had been developed, over her many years of duty, to be frighteningly accurate. They had kept her on high alert when they first entered the town, but were calm now. Another reason for it was, though she would never admit that publicly, that the Paladins who lead the parties exaggerated with the intention to raise the Squires and Knights. Combined with a whole other load of reasons because paranoia was often quite practical. Especially in cities, given that being surrounded by other sentient beings overloaded off a Warrior's senses.

The silence didn't last long however. Soon enough they were greeted by a small party of militia-men. She assured them that the threat was gone, that the Priestess and Knight were merely exhausted, ordered them to stay out of the square, and made them fall in with her small party. The being had been wise enough to put his hood on the moment they left the square, avoiding any issues regarding his appearance. As they went more groups joined them, until the the small gang was surrounded by a small army. The militia seemed more at ease now and chattered amiably amongst themselves, but they retained a decent enough level of alertness. Just before they reached the inn, a panting Mina rejoined them.
"The square is kept under guard, sir, nobody will approach it without your explicit permission," the girl gave her report.
Lissa nodded in response and guided her party towards the inn, where she could see a very impatient Captain Dar pace back and forth in front of the window, looking hungrily at them. She didn't blame the man. If she were in his place, she would have hated having to sit out a battle against Evil, even more so since the fight had been fought within his jurisdiction.

The very moment the door had been closed, the Captain rushed her.
"The girl and her brother are asleep in their room. Save for us, and some guards, the inn is empty. Tell me, Paladin, is the witch vanquished?"
The burning eyes of the Captain were so intensely focused on Lissa that he had somehow managed to overlook the giant behind her.
"Rest assured Captain," Lissa said as she clasped his shoulder. "The witch is gone. Turned to less than ashes. She will not plague you again. However..." she trailed off as a shadow fell over the Captain, his eyes jumping from her to the source.
"I will have to ask you to station your guards outside the inn, as well as depart yourself. Me and mine have things to discuss that those from outside the Order are not privy to."
The Captain saluted, a bit slower than usual. She did not blame him. He was a veteran, but had likely only ever faced humans or Goblins. Giants like whatever this creature was, were things the good man had obviously never encountered before. He opened his mouth, as if to disagree with the politely phrased order, then nodded instead.
"As you wish, Paladin." He turned around and bellowed orders into the inn. A dozen guards appeared shortly thereafter. Some of them remembered to salute the Paladin, but most were too busy gawking at the giant man whose features remained hidden in the coat. The Captain quickly called them to order, and it didn't take long before the inn was emptied, save for the Paladin, her party, and the mysterious being.

The creature walked towards the stairs and carefully placed a foot down. He shifted his balance, bit by bit, and the stairs started groaning. Slowly he moved his full weight onto it, and satisfied that it did not give in, he started climbing the stairs.
Mina and Mira stared at each other, openly dumbfounded, as the stairs creaked in protest to the load being placed on them, before hurriedly chasing after Lissa. They caught up with her in one of the larger bedrooms, where he had put down the Priestess on one bed and Trista on another. The Knight, clearly awake now, was clutching the curtain tightly towards her, and clearly felt naked without her weapons. Her clothes mattered significantly less.
"Your weapons and armour are over there," the being said, his voice rumbling through the room. It was a large room for an inn, but the sheer size of the creature made it seem small in comparison. Trista's eyes flashed from the creature's face towards the pile, then back towards him, before she catapulted herself out of the bed, grabbed her sword in one smooth movement, rolled across the floor and landed on three of her limbs, the fourth holding her blade.
"Calm yourself, Knight," Lissa's voice interjected.
The being nodded. "You should get dressed first. And eat. Then rest. You were more or less dead for a while, and rest is the best way to deal with that. Especially for the mind. You will suffer from confusion, headaches and dizziness for a few days, along with bouts of being violently ill, so I suggest eating only light meals. Stews, broths, those things."
"I... what? I died?" Trista asked, clearly confused. Then a bout of promised dizziness hit her and she fell sideways as gravity decided to change directions. Lissa raced towards her, but the being was faster. His long arms shot forward and grabbed both woman and sword before the former hit the ground and the latter hit the former. As Trista mentally scrambled to reorient herself, the being put her to bed and gave her a very stern look.
"Stay in bed," he rumbled.
Instinctively recognising medical authority when she heard it, Trista nodded, before her face contorted in pain as the headache hit her.
The being turned towards the Priestess and shook his head disapprovingly.
"She used several spells to delay the effects of having exhausted her stamina. Then she fully emptied her magical reserves in an uncontrolled burst, and on top of it all she has a concussion when she hit her head. Normally I would simply prescribe plenty of rest in a dark room along with a concoction of nightvale and baselroot to prevent any swelling, but I lack the time. So, I shall speed it up a bit."

As he moved his fingers to the side of the Priestess's head, placing the tips at her ears, Lissa mentally steeled herself. It was a shame she was a moment too late in realising that buckets might have been very useful for her companions.
'Oh well,' she thought, 'floors can be cleaned.'




Glissandi slowly opened her eyes. She felt weird. Not precisely ill, but strange. The last she remembered was that the twins had jumped up and let go of her. She had been too exhausted to move her arms to catch herself, but that was where her memory ended. She tried to make sense of things. Had exhaustion claimed her? She knew it wasn't a very healthy thing to completely open the sluices to your magic reserves. Fully emptying those had consequences on your physical body, and on top of her already tired state that had not been a good idea. She felt refreshed though, for some reason. How long had she been out for?
As she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, she noticed a face floating nearby. She made out a vague, sour smell as well that somehow seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. It barely managed to penetrate the thick scent of earth and nature that hung around the tree like a blanket. Her mental capacities slowly kicked themselves in gear as her vision started to gain focus. All of a sudden she found herself staring into the massive face of something. She blinked. Once, twice. Was it a tree with a face carved in? Was it — the tree blinked! She pulled herself back in surprise.
"What —" she stuttered as her brain tried to make sense of the situation.
"Good," rumbled the face. "It would seem that you are back to your senses. I would advice you to take plenty of rest afterwards, and not eat any heavy meals for the first day. You exhausted too much of your body's energy reserves, so if you eat anything that is too troublesome to digest, you may end up with cramps."
"I... what?"
"If I may..." interrupted a voice that she recognised. The large tree-face pulled back and Lissa appeared into view.
"Lissa?"
"Yes Priestess. We are back in the inn. Your last attack managed to..." there was a moment of hesitation in Lissa's voice before she continued, "to vaporise the witch. Damage to the surroundings was minimal. The..." another pause, "being that is here in the room with us, has healed Trista. She was in a bad state —"
"She was clinically dead," the being interrupted with a humph.
Lissa threw him a semi-annoyed glare before continuing.
"But she is fine now." Her head turned towards the Knight, who was using one of the blankets to wipe vomit of her bare body. "Well, reasonably fine," the Paladin amended.

Glissandi nodded, slowly starting to make sense of the situation. Then she connected the sour smell to the sight of vomit and she frowned. "Why is there so much vomit in the room?"
Lissa looked slightly uneasy as she looked at the Knight and the Squires, all of them doing their best to clean the mess as quickly as possible, then turned back to the Priestess to respond, but the being beat her to it.
"You had a concussion, and I have magic at my disposal that can deal with that quite efficiently. However, the procedure is, if your fellow humans reaction is anything to go by, not a pretty sight."
A squeamish Mira protested from the back.
"You put roots in her head and made her skull glow like a damned frog that swallowed a nest of fireflies!" the girl croaked.
For a minute, Lissa feared she would regret her decision to not bring buckets in once more as Glissandi turned remarkably pale.
"I see..." the Priestess commented. Then, deciding to steer the conversation to less disturbing topics, she faced the strange tree-like creature again.
"It seems I must thank you then. For saving the life of one of those who faithfully serves the Light. If there is something I can do to repay you, then please, name it."
"Humph. I care not for your rewards, human. I came here because I had things to discuss with you, and the other human" — he gestured to Lissa — "told me that you were the one to speak to."
Glissandi nodded. "May I suggest we move to a more comfortable room then?" She turned to Lissa with an unvoiced question in her eyes. Lissa nodded. She understood that the Priestess asked if the others should tag along with them, or have a chance to freshen up. The girl had picked up some things about safety that the Paladin had tried to teach her.
"Trista, Squires, go freshen up, make yourselves presentable, then rejoin us in the common room."
"I suggest we move to another room similar to this instead," the being interrupted. "It would be for the best if these two," he continued, gesturing to the Priestess and the Knight, "stayed in a bed."
"As you wish. We shall be in the room opposite of this one then."

The Priestess slowly slid her legs out of bed, and tested their strength. Moving gingerly, she stood up, slightly unstable, when the being simply wrapped one of his massive hands around her waist and plucked her up as if she were no heavier than a feather. Feeling his hand cover half of her back, and his fingers extend halfway down her legs, the sheer size of him finally hit her. He was basically folded in half trying to fit in the room without hitting his head on the ceiling! Without giving her a chance to protest, he carried her out, with Lissa close behind on his heels. The Paladin seemed calm though, and that reassured her. She reckoned that if this creature had intended her harm, he would have done so a long time ago.
Lissa reached for a chair and sat down in it, looking alert and fresh, while Glissandi gratefully sank down into the bed. While she didn't feel as exhausted as before, she was still tired. The being simply remained standing. She had the sneaking suspicion that this was because any chair he would sit on would shatter immediately, if the way the floor groaned as he walked was any indication.

"What was it you wished to speak to me about..." she trailed off, realising that she didn't know the beings name.
"Although before we begin, may I ask for your name? And what you are, if you don't take offense to that. I have never heard of beings like you before, even though the archive at the Monastery is quite vast."
"Humph. I do not expect your kind to know of mine. We tend to not mingle with humans. Your kind, as are so many others, is too short lived and violent for our tastes. We prefer to remain hidden within deep forests far from here. The name of what we are is one that you can neither speak nor hear. My kind communicates differently. However, if I were to translate it into a name fitting for your tongues, we would be named the Silent Keepers. The name that I was presented with when I left the one who taught me was Salixor."
"Does your kind believe in the Lord?" Lissa interjected, earning her a sharp glare from the Priestess.
The sound Salixor's skin made when he turned towards the Paladin and narrowed his eyes was foreboding.
"My kind does not believe in your gods. We were here before them. We shall be here after them. We have seen kingdoms rise and crumble into dust. Civilisations encroach on our forest, grow to tremendous heights before falling down, their cities abandoned as the forest reclaimed them." He pricked Lissa's chest with a finger.
"Your gods too. Religions come and go. They are temporary. We remain. We tend to our duty. Your Lord is something you humans believe in. It matters not to us. Only our duty matters."

Lissa grimaced, unnerved by the answer. Usually others were either fellow believers, heretics, or people who hadn't yet heard of the Lord.
"Pray tell then, what is your duty?" she countered.
"We tend the forests," came the immediate reply. Salixor sounded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"We Keep the balance between all things living, and heal those that were injured through means not belonging to nature's course." His eyes glanced over the Paladin's weapons and armour.
"I assume you are wise enough to figure out what I mean with that," he said, his eyes throwing the accusation her way. Lissa didn't flinch.
"Evil has to be fought, or it shall triumph. Just like you must uproot a snakevine, lest it strangles the tree, so we must prune the Dark from the Light, lest it extinguish it."
"Harumph. You claim of uprooting it, but your methods usually result in burning down both the vine and the tree. More often than not starting a wildfire in the process."
"That is because Evil, unlike a snakevine, does not allow us to uproot it peacefully."
"You claim to serve this 'Good', yet —"
Glissandi coughed, interfering in the argument. She raised a hand, smiling, her priestly demeanour having returned to her face and she radiated calmness.
"May I suggest we move on from the theological debate and remain focused on the subject at hand?" she asked innocently, abusing her young age to further that image.
Salixor harumped again. "Fair enough. You need your rest as well. To resume the topic I had wished to start earlier, I have come with you to talk about Cassandra. The woman you murdered."
Glissandi frowned in confusion. "Woman I murdered?"
"He means the witch, Priestess." Lissa clarified.
The Priestess' eyes narrowed as she gave Salixor a careful look. "Are you saying murdered because she was your friend, or because your kind dislikes violence?"
The Keeper nodded appreciatively. "The latter. She was my companion, in some ways. Or rather, it was her travelling the world while I followed her from a distance. She was a bad creature. She revelled in causing hurt and pain. She and I studied at the same place, but she left early on. She ran into too many arguments with others who studied, and even more so with the one who taught us. When she tried to hurt one of the others, the one who taught us interfered. She left after that, stealing some things in the process. The one who taught us told me to give chase. He believed that it would be valuable experience for me. Given how much harm she has caused while travelling, I was glad he did. I alleviated much of it. Not all, not enough, but much. Besides that, I was to keep track of her, until others could arrive to deal with her."
He paused.

"First, I must thank you. You ended her rampage and kept her from causing more sorrow. Even though I am not glad about her demise, I understand that it was only within your ability to end it on that note. A skilled gardener might be able to carefully uproot a snakevine and plant it near a tree that can withstand it, but a young one can only remove it for the betterment of the forest.
Glissandi felt her cheeks heat up, but kept the anger from showing on her face.
"Yet, I must also warn you."
A sharp crack shot through the room as Lissa grabbed hold of her mace, the leather creaking in protest to the strength she exerted on the handle.
"Explain yourself," she demanded, her eyes glaring at him, her muscles tense, ready to leap into action should the need arise.
"Humph. Impatient sapling. I was about to. The one I learned from teaches many. He cares not for believes, or morals. The only condition required to study with him is to be invited by the older students, who travel. He cares for talent, or lacking that, for an interesting character. There are many who study with him, and many more who are travelling for him. Not everyone holds the same opinion of him, however. There are those who are jealous of what he possess. His home, his wealth, his library, the knowledge he refuses to share. There are those who only care for what he teaches, and take what they get. There are those who see them as a mentor. The three factions tend to be at odds with one another when travelling."

He tilted his head, as if he heard something. "Ah, your companions are returning."
Lissa frowned. "I haven't heard any —"
"Listen to the wood then. Feel it vibrate. It creaks, as they walk over it."
True to his word, a gentle knock on the door announced the arrival of the Knight and the Squires. Trista, lacking her gambeson, was wearing comfortable clothes for a change, meaning they lacked any armour components. She obviously regretted the lack of defensive equipment, and still had her sword with her. The Squires had removed their chainmail and were only wearing their gambeson. Their short swords dangled from their hips, but they were significantly more at ease than the wary Knight was, whose eyes were flashing all across the room in their ever-lasting search for danger.
"I shall not start over. I expect you can brief your companions afterwards. To resume where I left off: the members of the factions are often at odds, when they are not at his home. None of them are stupid enough to cause a ruckus where he can see it, especially not since the ones who adore him always make sure they properly outnumber those who wish to do him harm. He himself does not quite care. The further you go from his home, the more of the latter faction that roam the lands. I fear that they will not take kindly to you killing one of their own, especially not since she had whatever it was that she stole from his home."
"What was it that she stole?" Glissandi interjected.
"I was not told. I trust him enough to believe he had valid reasons for not telling me."
"So you are telling us that there are others, akin to the witch's in ability, to be coming after us? Either out of vengeance for a fallen comrade, or because they believe we have their items?
Trista's eyes focused sharply on Glissandi for a moment before flashing over to Salixor at the mention of the threat, before resuming their route across all corners of the room at an even more frantic pace.
"Yes. That is what I believe. Except that they will be wary this time, and not act as openly as Cassandra did. The only information I can share with you about them is that their talents vary wildly, they are nearly all human, and that they usually prefer to travel on their own. A single one of them could wipe out all of you, however, if you are not very careful. Personally I would suggest leaving human-held territory behind, or at least that which your kind calls civilisation. If you keep heading south, you will start entering the lands that are more often visited by the faction that is in league with him."
"I shall keep your advice in consideration. Tell me Salixor, are you part of the faction that protects him? It seems, given your dislike for violence, that it would be ill suited for you."
"Humph. You are sharp, for a human. Yes, you are correct. I belong to the middle faction. I am a Keeper first and foremost. My duties lies there. While I get along with the one who taught me quite well, there are things he does I disagree with as well. I obey him, to an extent, as he has proven to be someone worth obeying, but I do not blindly cling to him."
"There is another thing I do not understand. If he knows that there are those who wish to see him brought low and desire his possessions, why does he not eliminate them? Does he lack the power to do so?"

Salixor stood up slowly and walked towards the sole window. The floorboards creaked at his every step as a thoughtful look settled on his face.
"You are smart, little one. Your questions are sharp, your insight clear, and you have not asked many questions you knew I would not answer. Then heed me when I say this: do not cross his path. He is strange beyond measure. He is not akin to you or I. He answers to none save himself, and why he does the things he does, nobody can fathom. And all I know for sure is that he has no love lost for those who follow your Lord. He does not push his views on us, but neither does he hides his distaste. I have warned you once. I have warned you twice. Now I shall warn you thrice. Stay clear of him, if you can."

He slowly reached for his hood and slid it back over his face and began walking towards the door.
"I have spent too much time here as it is. I must depart now. You still have time, humans, it will take a while before word of what transpired here will reach others. I shall do what I can to delay them as well. I owe you that much, for stopping Cassandra's rampage."
"Salixor, please, one more question if I may," the Priestess begged.
The Keeper slowly retracted his hand from the doorknob and turned to the much smaller Priestess, who stood defiantly in front of him.
"What is his name?"
Salixor's green eyes took on a strange expression as they seemed to stare deep into Glissandi's blue ones. They pierced her, dug deeper than the surface and seemed to connect with her mind.
"He is called Gaelus. Pray you never meet him."

As Salixor left the room, walking as delicately as a giant of his size could to avoid sinking through the floor, Glissandi and Lissa looked at each other, faces wrought with confusion.
Lissa waited for the Priestess to speak. In the short conversation with the Keeper, the Paladin had seen a new side of the Priestess. She had been aware that the girl wasn't stupid, and had a good head on her shoulders, which had been evidenced in her desire to learn from the Warriors, but seeing her engage the tree-like creature in discussion had fully revealed the girl's large intellect. It seemed that her magical abilities were not the sole reason that the girl had attained the rank of Priestess.

Glissandi brought her hand to her hair, exhaustion forgotten as her mind dissected the previous conversation. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through the golden strand, her blue eyes turning distant as she ran through the events of the past day. Too many things didn't add up, failed to make sense, and she had far too many questions that remained unanswered. She ran through them in her head. Why was Nassi targeted? What was the witch's goal? Why did she come to this city? Who was Salixor? And who or what in the Lord's name was this mysterious Gaelus? Other than the questions, she had her personal demons tormenting her. She didn't take her failure in the battle lightly.

Her mind returned to the present and she noticed her companions staring at her. The Knight was, as usual, utterly devoid of emotions. Her face was blank and patient. The only visible sign that she was disturbed was that her fingers kept dancing across the blade of her sword. The Squires were looking slightly ragged. Not a surprise, given all what transpired in such a short period of time. The Paladin, on the other hand, was undaunted by today's events. She was a monument of patience, impossible to shake no matter what might happen. Perhaps it was Glissandi's imagination, but the Paladin seemed to be looking at her with a measure of respect. At the very least, she was waiting for the Priestess to speak first.

"I would like your opinion on the matter, Lissa. I lack experience. I know this. I have not seen much of the world, and know little of it besides of what I saw in the Monastery, and I doubt that holds up out here. We have only left for a scant few days and already my expectations have been shattered." The Priestess turned to look at the others.
"The same question I extend to all of you. Me and mine are trained to be capable in magic, diplomacy, etiquette, conversation, debate and other scholarly subjects. Events like these leave me out of my depth", Glissandi admitted. It stung her. She had always been praised for being smart, for being able to figure things out by instinct. Her intelligence was one of her greatest assets. Yet here she was, completely unable to deal with the situation. It was her pride that was hurt, and she knew it. Yet that just made it sting all the more.

The Squires looked at one another, seemingly communicating in silence, but held their tongues. Likewise, all Trista did was blink and focus briefly on the Priestess. She shook her head shortly, indicating she had nothing to add. Then Lissa spoke up, softly.
"I am sorry Priestess, but I am as much out of my depth as you are. In all my travels, I have never encountered a witch as strong as her. Nor have I met a creature that even remotely resembles his kin. I am a Paladin. A Warrior. We serve the Order as its sword and shield."
"Have you ever heard the name Gaelus before? Or saw any artifacts, or other strange items on the witch? Perhaps we should send a runner to ask those questions of the Ledger Master, he might have known something. Captain Dar might know of any places the witch stopped at, perhaps she hid the items there..." the Priestess mused aloud.
"I have never heard that name before, Priestess. As for the items... Trista, you are the one who came the closest to her. Did you see anything on her that might be these items that the Keeper referred to?"
"By the Light, I did not. I saw nothing of the sort," came the reply.

Glissandi nodded, her eyes thoughtful.
"If we lack answers, we should at least make sure we know what questions to ask. Would any of you know why the witch would place such a curse on a child? Does Nassi have any history or background that makes her special? Any people that care about her that the witch would want hurt?"
Mira raised her hand. "Priestess, I... might be speaking out of turn here but..." the girl trailed off, obviously feeling reluctant to voice her opinion around her betters.
"Speak honestly, child. I'd prefer to hear your honest opinion."
"What if it was simple arrogance?" Mira asked.
Lissa and Trista looked confused, while Glissandi frowned.
"Arrogance?" Lissa asked. Mira nodded, her expression serious.
The Priestess nodded. "You mean to say that she did it simply because she could. Because she wanted to show off."
Mira's face lit up. "Exactly!" she shouted. Then, adding a bit belatedly, "Priestess." The girl drew a breath. "If what the tree man said was true, then she liked to see people suffer. What better way to cause that than to let a promising child die a slow, agonising death that nobody could stop, while simultaneously showing off her magical abilities? I mean, she did the same when she was fighting you. If she had struck full force from the beginning rather than wanting to show off—" Mina clasped her hand on her sister's mouth, eyes wide open. Mira followed a moment later, as realisation dawned on her as to what she just implied.

"Don't!" Glissandi shouted, causing Lissa to freeze mid-movement, her hand only a hair's width away from the Squire's face.
Glissandi gave the Paladin a furious stare and when she spoke her voice was ice cold.
"Paladin Lissa. I asked for everyone to give me their honest opinion. The girl did that. Raised a very valid point in the progress. And we both know damn well that the witch toyed with me. I panicked, messed up, got Trista killed, nearly got all of us killed, because I messed up. I will not deny that. You will not deny that either." The Priestess closed her eyes.
"By the Light. I will not deny my failures. It hurts to hear it. It hurts even more to know that it is the absolute truth. To hear it from a Squire, a rank so far beneath me, makes the sting even worse. But it wasn't a Squire who said it. It was the girl, who spoke from the bottom of her heart without holding back on my request, and told us what she saw as truth."
She opened her eyes again and looked at the floor.
"We serve the Light first and foremost. My pride should not matter. Her speaking her mind when I requested it is not an offense. If there is anyone who deserves punishment, it is me. I failed us during the battle."
She raised her head, her eyes meeting Lissa's.
"Tell me, Paladin. What would a Warrior do to a trainee who messed up and put their unit in danger?"
Lissa blinked rapidly. What happened to the girl from earlier? There was a woman facing her now. A woman with steel in her eyes.
"She'd... be punished, Priestess."
"How?" barked Glissandi, her eyes not letting go of Lissa.
"I... Not in a matter appropriate for a Priestess... You cannot mean—" the Paladin protested, realising what direction the conversation was heading in.
"Then make it so!" Glissandi commanded.

The room was dead quiet. Trista's fingers paused their dance across her blade, and Mira and Mina didn't dare breathe. Glissandi was standing upright now, in front of Lissa who, for the first time since they all met, actually looked unnerved.
"Priestess!" the Paladin protested once more, raising her hands in front of her, as if to protect herself from the Priestess.
"Did I stutter, Paladin? We agreed that you would teach me your Warrior's common sense, didn't we? I am not asking you for your opinion! I am giving you, as your superior, a direct order!"
"But—!"
"NOW!" shrieked Glissandi, grabbing the older woman by her armour.

The smack resounded through the room. Lissa had brought her hand up from beneath and slammed it into Glissandi's face, without holding back. Glissandi fell to the ground, knocked aside, her cheek torn open by the gauntlet. The Priestess screamed in pain, tears streaming of her face as the burning sensation completely overwhelmed her.
'It hurts', she thought. 'It hurts so much!'

Lissa stood frozen in place, numbly looking at the mailed hand in front of her. Pieces of skin and drops of blood were clinging to the rings. The wailing cries of the Priestess didn't seem to reach her.
Trista had completely ceased her habit of continuously looking around the room for danger and was moving her gaze back and forth between the Paladin, unable to make sense of the situation.
Mira and Mina were standing up, hands outstretched towards the crying Priestess, but not daring to move further. They carefully watched the Paladin, a primal fear invested in them through years of training making them stay put, lest they be hit like that as well. They had been hit numerous times before, but never like this. This wasn't a warning smack. This blow had ripped off part of the Priestess's skin, laid bare muscle and was causing her to lose large amounts of blood at a rapid pace. Gone was the brave woman who had faced the Paladin. In her stead was a crying, wounded girl.

Slowly, Lissa's awareness returned. She moved her hand down, looked at the Priestess, then at the Knight and the Squires.
"Out!" she hissed. The trio left the room in the blink of an eyes, nearly running over one another in their haste to vacate the premises.
Kneeling next to the still trashing Priestess, Lissa grabbed the girl by the chin, ignoring the blood pouring over her hand. With her other hand she grabbed the girl's hand, then the other, forcing them to remain still. She looked at the wound, ignoring Glissandi's wails. It was deep and large. Quite severe even, given that the Priestess had expended all of her magic.
"Why did you do that, you idiot?" she asked. She met the Priestess's gaze, and found that laying deeply underneath the pain, that same steel that she saw earlier was still present. The girl didn't regret her decision. And Lissa understood why.

"Fine then," she grunted, pushing the girl to the ground and pinning her trashing limbs underneath her armoured legs. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed out a needle and thread, and a bottle of alcohol.
"This is going to hurt. I'm not going to bother to tell you to not trash around, you'll probably pass out from the pain anyway."
As she doused the open wound in alcohol, her prediction came true. Wielding the needle with expertise, she started sewing the wound shut. It wouldn't be a clean job, given what she had to work with, but it would keep the girl from bleeding out.
She cussed with every stab of the needle.
"You're mad, girl. An idiot. Reckless. Inexperienced. Insane. Arrogant. Thick-headed. Stupid!"
She paused, before employing language no living being had ever heard her employ.
"And you're the first Priestess I might actually genuinely like. You damnable ballsy bitch."




Glissandi woke up in total darkness. The first sensation that hit her was the burning pain radiating forth from her cheek. It overwhelmed her temporarily and she brought her hand to the wound, her fingers trembling as she traced the stitches with her fingertips. She felt tears well up and didn't try to stop them. When she felt a sob coming she forcefully suppressed it. By the Light, it hurt! She had never been switched before at the Monastery, but somehow she thought that this wasn't exactly comparable to getting smacked on the rear with a cane or the magical version of it.

She tried to switch her focus away from the pain, into her magical reserves. The roaring fire that usually resided in her wasn't there, but unlike earlier in the evening when her reserves had been entirely depleted, a small flame had returned to her. She failed at first, stabs of pain tearing her concentration apart. She frowned, annoyed at her control slipping beyond her grasp and was rewarded for the facial expression by even more pain. She cursed. The pain woke her up fully and she felt her own anger burn, suppressing the pain to an extent. She realised that this is what Warriors must feel. Using anger to fuel their determination when pain threatened to distract them.

She brought her full conscious to bear on it and was pleasantly surprised when she managed to shrug off part of the roaring pain that the wound gave her. Her other senses started to report sensations again. She became aware of a vague scent of alcohol and the memory of Lissa bluntly pouring it onto her face returned. The recollection made a flash of anger roar through her mind and she redirected it to distract her further from the pain. She shifted her focus away from her inner rage and moved them towards her magic. This time she grabbed hold of it without issues. She felt relief flood over her as the energies washed over her, instinctively homing in on her wound. It wouldn't be enough to fully heal it, but it greatly lessened the pain and she could feel an itch that she knew meant her skin was healing.

Establishing the connection properly, she sank back down in the bed, tenderly rubbing her fingers on the slowly healing wound, the pain easily ignored now.
"Lord..." she whispered. It was deserved. She knew it. She had sought out the punishment, not primarily because she had panicked like a raw recruit, but because she had failed in her sacred duty to the Lord. She had wished to live, to survive, when her only task should have been to eliminate Darkness. She lived to serve. She was a Priestess, a loyal subject of the Lord. Her gifts, training and ability were there to spread His light, not for her own selfish gain. The wound had also served so many more of her goals than merely acquiring a form of atonement. It had instilled a form of respect for her from the Paladin. It had revealed her dedication to the cause and the way it had happened had enforced a sense of unity in the party. Mother Dilia had prepared her plenty for when she'd go out in the world, far more than she had let on to the rest of her group.

In that aspect, she had succeeded, far faster than she had anticipated. She had known her weaknesses, known that the Warriors would feel a variation of irritation and pity towards her due to her lack of skills that came as second nature to them. Lissa had been somewhat impressed by her willingness to admit that. The girls had mocked her for it. Trista was still a mystery. Reading that woman was like trying to see through a wall of stone. Still, the Knight had risked herself in order to save her. As Mother Dilia had said, there were plenty of advantages to being the first party to be sent out. The first party simply was made up of the best, which meant that each and every one of their party would do their duty. She closed her eyes, a small shiver running through her spine as the wounded skin knitted itself together again. She recalled one of the conversations she had with Mother Dilia, away from prying ears.
"The party that accompanies you during your Sending is much more important than most people know. You are with them for years, and they are your ties to the Warriors. How well you perform and how much you impress them will matter greatly in how their entire faction sees you, and it heavily influences your future career. You know that most other Associates don't like you, due to your rapid progress. They are jealous of you. They might try and hinder your future growth if they are able, but most will not never ascend beyond the rank of Priestess. Make connections, Glissandi. Spread your web. You are special. The Lord has blessed you with many abilities. Make sure to use them all for His glory."

The Priestess opened her eyes again. Her party was more united than ever. She had learned valuable lessons, and the failures she had made during the battle would not be repeated. Every mistake she had made would be analysed and she'd improve herself accordingly. The pain had been a good lesson to. It had hurt, oh Lord, it had hurt so much more than she had expected. It had torn aside her barriers and reduced her to a weeping wreck. Thanks to that she could now put things into perspective. Pain was an area she had thoroughly lacked experience in. She had encountered some of it in the battle, when she was thrown across the stones and the friction had torn the skin of her limbs, but then she had been shielded by magic and her own ability had mended those wounds instantly, dulling the pain as it came before doing away with it entirely.

Aside from having gained solid experience and a tighter bond with those who would, hopefully, later serve as her connections into the Order, she had taken out a skilled witch, a true servant of Darkness. She had saved a child who had a promising future. She would make sure that Nassi would be sent to the Monastery. Mother Dilia would undoubtedly tutor the little girl until she'd grow up to be another capable Priestess. Connections, friends, relations, all mattered. To climb in the Order one needed more than simple abilities. It was an intricate web of politics and one needed to navigate it carefully to rise in rank. Mother Dilia had raised Glissandi and that bond worked two ways. If Glissandi climbed, so would Mother Dilia. If Nassi climbed, so would Glissandi. You helped one another and supported those who aided you. It was sickeningly similar to the politics of a kingdom or an empire, but Mother Dilia had explained the difference to her when she had asked.
"A noble desires rank because it carries power and wealth, and they crave that. They are vulnerable to corruption. Some genuinely care for their subjects, but to climb in such an institution requires blackmail, the trade of favours, conflict. All too often war springs forth because of it. We desire to climb in rank only if we think ourselves capable of it. Sure, Associates often dream of leading their own monastery at one point, and we encourage those thoughts as it drives them to further improve themselves. However, in the end all that matters is ability. If you can climb the ranks, if you are capable enough to handle more than your current task assigns you, then we see it as our duty to do so. To do more, in His name, to better serve Him, for that is our purpose. And we are strict with ourselves. If we see a person trying to ascend, we will judge them harshly, for that is our way. No matter what happens, we cannot allow the Dark to worm their way in. And sometimes, we are overzealous in our scrutiny of those below us, and prefer to be overly cautious. That is why it is important to have the backing of others. Thanks to them, we can climb, and do more for the Lord. Because that, my dear girl, is all that matters to us. To work for the Lord. Our duty is sacred above all."


She had her team and her accomplishments. She had gained a possible valuable ally. Thanks to the interference of the strange Salixor, she had done so without losing anyone in the process. Now, however, she stood at a critical point. There were plenty of unasked questions, and she prayed that Mira had been right in assuming that the witch had only cursed the girl out of arrogance and the desire to see others suffer. She needed answers, and she was considering pulling back to the Monastery to ask Mother Dilia for advice. If Salixor was right, then those who would chase her could prove to be an insurmountable obstacle. Then again, there was the chance he had been lying. Due to her reserves being depleted, she hadn't been able to study his emotions. Depending on how much of what he had said was truth, the actions she would have to take would be different.
"South..." she mused. That had been his advice. To retreat towards the faction that opposed those who would chase her. Still, even if that was true, it would only be a temporary stopgap measure. They couldn't hide there forever. Should they try to find the items that had been stolen? Should they try to find Gaelus, despite Salixor's warnings? Should they go back to the Monastery and report on all of this? There were advantages to either, and risks aplenty. Going south would mean risking their lives, even if it was in line with their original course. Going back meant they might gain additional information on this Gaelus. They could also report on everything else, but it would be seen as cowardice, and if those who would chase her were as vile and capable as Cassandra had been, or worse, as Salixor had warned them, more capable, then they would easily set ablaze the world to lure them out.

She shook her head. Returning was out of the question. She would trust Lissa's paranoia to keep her safe. Trista's constant alertness suddenly made so much more sense as well. They would stick to their course, go south. She would have to draw up a report and ask Captain Dar to deliver it to Mother Dilia, preferably in person. The Captain had proven to be very reliable. She could ask him to take Nassi with her as well, after having a word with the orphanage. Her brother's desire to protect his sister could make him a valuable asset as well. The boy had shown quite a bit of bravery in confronting them, for his sister's sake.

She would have to plan this with Lissa in the morning. The Paladin would have to give her a crash course in Warrior skills. She grimaced at the thought of it, but knew it was a vile necessity. She clenched her teeth in determination. Powerful yet hidden factions warring in favour for or against this mysterious Gaelus, with people capable enough to clash head on with the first party of the Sending. Salixor served neither Darkness nor the Light, Cassandra obviously served Darkness, and Gaelus supposedly had no love lost for the Order. Did that make him a servant of the Dark, or was there more at play? She would have to be wary to not let prejudice cloud her thoughts on that. If Salixor's deference was anything to go by, he was capable, and could either prove to be an invaluable ally, or a grave threat. Regardless, if she could deal with him, it would be a massive boost for herself, the Order, and the Lord.

'Yes,' she thought. She now had a task that superseded the mere conversion of villagers, although she would not relent in that either.
'Beware, Gaelus,' she thought to herself, her golden eyes ablaze with determination.
'I am coming.'




As Glissandi went back to sleep, a smile of satisfaction on her lips, the rest of her party lay awake, pondering the events of the day.

Lissa was keeping herself busy by going over her armour. She treated her weapons with a light coating of oil, making sure the blades were still sharp and in good shape. She studied the green fluids that were on her sword. The strange being, the Keeper, had blocked it with his bare hand. It frustrated her. The weapons she carried were specifically made with the intention to cut through both magic and most armour with ease, having been enchanted to that purpose. Her blade wasn't comparable to the one that Trista carried, let alone to the weapons of the Squires. She was a Head Paladin and her outfit reflected her status. Whatever Salixor's skin, hide or bark was made of, however, surpassed the equipment she wielded. It had healed in mere moments as well, putting the creature obviously well above her in terms of abilities. She wondered what his insides held.

It was pure professional interest that made her wonder that. She held a mild dislike for him due to him not acknowledging the Lord, as that made him a willful non-believer, but at the same time he had healed Trista without requesting payment and she doubted that his desire to heal and nurture was a false trait. His kind, on the other hand, could possibly be an enemy they would face at one point. If their insides held organs, the same way Men, Trolls and every other creature had, then they would be susceptible to her other weaponry. Maces, cudgels and other equipment similar to those that carried the purpose to cause harm through armour would do more damage than her sword had. Of course, if the Keepers were more akin to trees, lacking the same biological system that all other known sentients had, she would have to rely on other ways to take them down. Ambushes, fire and magic would be her greatest assets then. She paused, staring off in the distance. Realisation struck her that those ways of fighting would be better anyway. In her haste to find a way around his tough, natural defences, she had forgotten that he had actually blocked the force of her swing with a single hand, without exerting himself. Even when she had smashed her shield into him, he had only taken a few steps back and she wasn't sure if he had done so because of the blow, or because he had been forced to fold himself in half to fit into the room.

She frowned as she came to another realisation. How the hell had a creature of his size gotten into the city without being spotted? When the Ledger Master had been listing off suspicious people he had not mentioned a mysterious giant that shrouded himself in a cloak. Did he have more abilities at his disposal than he had revealed thus far, or were there insiders in the city that worked with him? Given the militaristic structure of the Empire, it was unlikely that he had been smuggled in, or that guards had been bribed to look the other way. The truth would have come out the moment Captain Dar had begun his investigation.

She grinned wildly at the thought of the broad-shouldered Captain. Dutiful and experienced, devoted and intelligent, and if the way he carried himself was an indication, a very strong and capable man and fighter. For a man not belonging to the Warriors of the Order at least. A shame she hadn't met him half a lifetime earlier. He would have been a good partner. Even now she felt a measure of temptation tug at her. It was a shame they wouldn't spend more time in the city. Maybe she would take a detour later, when their mission was over and the Priestess deigned to return. If they were still alive at that point.

She sighed. Maybe she should just go for it. If they stayed for one more night. Could she trust Trista to handle the defence of the inn on her own? No, bad train of thought. Trista was capable but if the lot who were coming after them were as capable as Salixor promised, she couldn't abandon her post. The inn was large though... It wouldn't be too difficult to invite him over for a discussion. It would be nice to have a bit of fun before they went south. The Priestess may think herself smarter than the rest — and she was it too, Darkness be damned — but she was still easy to read. The girl was ambitious and zealous. Salixor had given her a name. A target. There was just no way the girl would pass up the opportunity to chase it.

She let out a deeper sigh as she tucked her weapons away, laying them down close to her so they remained within reach. Falling back down onto the bed she laid her hands underneath her head and stared at the ceiling. First the witch, Cassandra, who had proven to be an opponent that completely outclassed her and her fellow Warriors. Then Salixor, who she might beat. If she was lucky. And now this Gaelus. If this man was even half of what she feared, then she doubted her party would stand as much as a sliver of a chance. Still, if the Priestess went, she'd follow. That was her duty and she would not shy away from it.

Her thoughts shifted towards Glissandi. The girl learned fast and was damnably smart. She learned so much from her every mistake and did so with a devotion that matched her own. If the girl had been raised by the Warriors rather than the clergy, she would have made a fine tactician. Lissa couldn't help but like her at this stage. Glissandi was still arrogant, but that was an inherent trait to any Priestess really, and at least this one backed it up with solid ability. The girl might be dead-set on chasing after an incredibly powerful target, but somehow the Paladin doubted it would be a suicide mission. Ambitious as she might be, the Priestess was smart enough to keep herself from getting killed easily. No doubt the girl would have plans ready come daylight.

She hopped out of bed and stretched, feeling her muscles tense. Another grin played on her face, this one far more feral than the earlier one had been. Lissa knew she was aging and that it was a matter of time before her years would start taking a toll on her abilities and she'd be relegated to raising the new generations rather than leading missions. She truly and thoroughly dreaded that time. Riding towards a dangerous goal, risking life and limb for the glory of the Lord, side by side with capable companions? There were worse ways to die.

Shaking off any sleep she grabbed her mace and shield, smoothly sliding the straps around her arms, tying them in place with the ease of decades of experience. She swung the mace forward and her foot followed suit, readying herself for the next movement. Within minutes she felt her muscles heat up.
She might be well past her prime, but she was still a Paladin. Those who served the Lord would find sanctuary behind her shield. And those who defied Him would taste her blade.



Trista lay in bed, thoughts jumping all over the place. Her fingers were carefully feeling up the mass of scars that lay atop what once was a fair visage. Once. A long time ago. Before the Lord decided to prove to her that he didn't care about her, or those who served Him. Before she realised that what you were told was the truth did not automatically mean that it was so.
Her thoughts ran to the Priestess in the other room. Undoubtedly her wound was already being healed by her magic. It wasn't fair. The Priestess had narrowly managed to defeat the witch, after that she had risked her own life by recklessly charging in, just to give the girl a chance. She had excelled in her attack as well, despite being hopelessly outclassed. The reward for her troubles had been that she was blasted through several walls, died, and then somehow was revived by a creature in manners she preferred not to think about lest her stomach decide to dump its contents again. The Priestess had, on the other hand, gotten away scot-free. The only punishment she received had been one she had actively demanded, and even then the wound would heal without leaving a scar, leaving the girl in possession of her perfect features.

The Knight felt her face contort. It was pure jealousy that was raging within her and she knew it, but wasn't it justified? She had sacrificed everything for the Lord! She hadn't made mistakes! She had held out against an impossible force, against impossible odds and had somehow managed to actually keep three of her squad alive! And what had her reward been? A disfigured face! Seeing the Priestess radiate with devotion only made things worse. Thank the Lord. Thank the Lord! Bah! A joke is what He was! He didn't care about what His followers went through! She felt the emotions slid from her face again as the turmoil of feelings raged within her, very much akin to a devastating storm. Anger lanced through her thoughts, colouring them red. Perhaps it was unfair to blame the Priestess for it, as the girl could no more help her circumstances than Trista could help her own, but damn it all, was it too much to ask to look normal again? To look human? To have a face that didn't made people recoil in fear or disgust when they gazed upon it?

She smothered the deep sigh that welled up within her throat.
'Thought I had accepted my fate. Light be damned.' She closed her eyes, vainly trying to let sleep wash over her again. Hadn't she decided long ago that she would try to serve the Order as well as she could? To help those who were worth it rather than lament her own situation? Why was it then that her head felt like bursting with all these emotions? Because of Salixor? If he could bring her back from the dead, couldn't he fix her face as well? Lord, what she wouldn't give for that! It was an empty hope and she knew better than let her heart yearn for it.
Still... The world was a vast place. Before today they hadn't known of Keepers and mysterious yet powerful factions moving unseen in the shadows, hidden from the Order despite operating freely near their lands. Maybe she shouldn't abandon hope entirely.
Maybe this unknown teacher of Salixor knew things. Perhaps they would meet him. Perhaps he would help her.
Her eyes turned to steel and her hand rested on top of the sword laying next to her. She felt her powerful muscles tighten as she gripped it.
Or perhaps she would have to beat it out of him.


Mira and Mina were patrolling the inn, making less noise than a mouse despite being fully armoured. It wasn't that there was a true need for it, given that the city militia had the inn surrounded and had been reinforced by plenty of mages, but Lissa had judged it safer to not take risks and be a bit paranoid. Normally the girls would have obeyed grudgingly, but deferring to the Paladin's authority in the end. After witnessing a battle between two powerful mages, seeing a Knight they previously thought of as invincible get blasted away as if she were no more than a speck of dust and seeing a being that looked like a massive tree casually put roots inside someone's head and make it light up like a lantern, they had agreed that the extra precautions might be quite sensible. As such they were patrolling through the empty hallways, swords in their hands and bucklers on their arms. Their eyes danced from shadow to shadow, only the light of the moon falling through the windows providing any form of illumination.

Mira's eyes flashed to her sister as the girl made rapid hand signals. Due to the girl's inability to speak with her mind the way she could, Mina had learned to compensate for it through other means. Mira replied to the silent query through her thoughts.
'No, I hadn't expected the Priestess to stand her ground. Honestly it shocked me as much as it did you.'
Mina replied with a flash of respect, her signals relaying a question.
'I think so. She is different from us, but she has guts. And she can fight. I don't think we should try picking on her for the foreseeable time.'
Her sister sent over a feeling of grudging admiration as well as agreement. Then a sudden desire to fight mixed with apprehension slipped out.
Mira smiled. 'Honestly, we should have known. First Priestess to come out is the best, right? She's a bit of a lion in sheep's clothing. She was kept sheltered in that Monastery of hers. Reckon that when she learns how to fight she's going to be one hell of a pain to go up against, and we can't counter that magic of hers. If you want to try and antagonise her to fight against us...' she left her sister to figure out the rest of the thought. The feeling of doubt in Mina's mind became tangible. Fighting against Lissa and Trista always ended in utter and total defeat, but at least they learned from that. How could you learn from magic that beat you black and blue when you couldn't even see it?

Mira smiled as she felt a weary sense of resignation flowing from her sister, followed by meek agreement. A new question followed immediately, Mina's fingers moving rapidly.
'I don't think we're a match for Salixor either.'
Her sister radiated disapproval and Mira felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She had mistranslated. She hated to admit it but despite being ahead of her sister in their mental connection, Mina had her beat in martial skill by a fair margin, even if her recklessness often hid it, and the girl picked most things up far faster than she did.
'Could you sign that again?'
Impatience slipped out of her sister, but was quickly pushed back as Mina repeated the signs, slower this time.
'Gaelus? How... Strong he is? Is that what you mean?'
Mina nodded at the first bit, then once again repeated the last signs, expressing a sense of urgency. Obviously she was still missing part of what her sister wanted to say. She focused on it and was completely taken off guard when her sister suddenly moved in on her. Before she could react she felt her feet being kicked out from underneath her. Mina's arm slipped around her neck and she was placed in a choke-hold. She looked into the grinning face of her sister, which was hovering far too close to her own for comfort.
"You know sis, you're quite arrogant at times. You may think things through more, but that doesn't help you one bit at times."

Mira frowned, shielded her own thoughts in turn and headbutted her sister. Mina reeled back, taken off guard by the sudden attack. She knew that Mira would be bringing her own sword up and moved accordingly. She slid forward, her vision still blurred from the blow, and grabbed her sister's wrist and pressed down on it, hard. Mira let out a silent scream and dropped her sword. Mina stopped the blade from hitting the ground with her foot, slowing down its descent and keeping it from making too much noise.
"My win," she announced, tapping Mira's other arm with her sword. Mira growled at her and slid the dagger she wielded against her sister's blade.
"How did you know?"
"Because I felt you thinking about it."
"Gah. You and your instincts," Mira complained, but smiled while doing so.

Without saying anything the girls resumed their position. Mira picked up her blade as Mina whispered the question her sister hadn't understood earlier. "What type of strength do you think this Gaelus has?"
Mira blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"
Mina rolled her eyes. For being the thinker of the pair, her sister was being awfully thick-headed at the moment. "Glissandi's strength is magic. Yours is thinking. Mine is instinct. Lissa is a Paladin. Trista is a Knight. Both excel at fighting with weapons. Trolls are physically strong. Salixor is..." she left the sentence unspoken. Neither girl had a desire to think of that again.
"So," she resumed, "what is Gaelus' strength?"
Her sister was quiet for a while. When she spoke, there was admiration in her voice. "I'm surprised a muscle-head like you could actually think of such a — oof!" she coughed as Mina rammed her elbow into her sister's side.
"Right, well, I have absolutely no idea"
"You don't?" Mina asked, incapable of hiding the worry that she felt. Her sister always knew things. Or had a suspicion. An idea. A guess! To see her sister straight up admit that she didn't know made her uncomfortable.
"Look, if a guy who puts roots in people's head for fun tells me that he's far beyond anything I can imagine, I tend to believe him. Maybe the guy's just a good teacher. An old wise man or something. Maybe he's actually the Lord in disguise. I don't know!"
Mina gave her twin a horrified look. "Don't say such blasphemy!"
Mira turned her eyes downwards and whispered a soft prayer. "You're right, that was stupid of me. I'm sorry. I just wanted to say that he could be anything."

The girls resumed their patrol in silence for a while, before Mina signed at her sister again. Another question.
Mira paused at a window and stared through it for a while before responding.
'Yes, I'm sure we'll go after him. We killed the witch and now we must go after her master. You wanted your storybook adventure, sis. Well... We're in it now.'

Melena slid across the tiles before crashing into the wall. The tough stone refused to yield, unlike her bones. She felt the pressure mount on them as they put up a brief resistance before the force from the impact overcame their feeble defence and they broke. She howled in pain, but she barely registered it. It was mere physical pain. Significant physical pain, perhaps, but still, it was only her body. She was far too occupied with the situation and the mental anguish that was tormenting every fibre of her being to care for something as minor as broken bones and cuts both large and small.

Footsteps rang through the long hallway as the source of her nightmare was approaching her. Through her dazed eyes she saw him coming. Feng, sole heir to the Dukedom of Avaran, a very wealthy and incredibly powerful nation that rivalled most kingdoms. Or so the man introduced himself at every occasion, even though rank and power counted for naught in these halls.

She felt how he picked her up by the neck. Not even the clothes, no, he just grabbed her by the neck. She was vaguely aware of the minor annoyance that this meant that she couldn't breathe in properly anymore. Instead, her mouth was wide open as her body desperately gasped for the much needed oxygen. Her hands clawed weakly at his, her body on autopilot as her mind kept panicking.

These halls were supposed to be sacred. One of the core tenets was that under no circumstances were students allowed to harm or threaten other students. What the punishment for breaking the rules was, nobody of the younger students knew. The older students merely shook their head warily when asked and suddenly had to be somewhere else. She had felt safe here, for the first time in her entire life. Steadily but surely, under the tender ministrations of the teacher, she had put her past behind, letting her mind bury the scars of abuse beneath the fresh flow of the knowledge she had so desperately craved her entire life. For the first time in her long, long eighteen years, she had felt at home. Safe.

And look where you are now. She wished that part of her head would shut up. It was strange. She had been beside herself with elation. She finally reached the stage where she could split her mind in three different, yet equally sentient and functioning parts, and then this had happened. She had been on her way to report her success to her teacher, full of pride, the three parts of her mind lulling her into a deep sense of peace with their discordance. Now one part was somehow registering everything and watching events unfold as if they were a story, another was busy making snarky remarks, and the last... Well... Panicked screeching and wailing in fear was one way to occupy yourself before history was going to repeat itself.

Were we always that stupid? came the snarky voice. She could feel the grin behind those words. She didn't dignify it with a response. It wouldn't help anyway. She knew what caused this.
"Bitch!" shouted Feng. "You dare deny me? Me!" he bellowed, his muscles tightening from the force he exerted on her throat. She felt it grow tighter, how her trachea was slowly being crushed. Her body fought against it, but she was no match for him. He growled at her and tossed her again. The two parts of her mind that weren't beyond themselves flinched as her body crashed into the ground, slid across the smooth tiles while leaving a trail of blood behind, before smashing into another wall.
Okay, time to panic now. He's going to kill us!
'Oh really?' she thought back. 'Now you're starting to get worried?'
The other part was right though. At first, she thought he'd do the usual. Hit her, beat her to a pulp, rape her, dump her abused body behind somewhere while he went to have a drink and brag about it to his mates.

She had really hoped that this place was different. She couldn't help having been born with this body. So many people regarded her as beautiful beyond compare. 'A true gift of the Lord!' the old baron had called her. 'Sent down from Heaven to reward us for our loyalty!' She had felt so happy at first when she was told that. Yet when the baron had come to court her, she had denied him. She was only thirteen after all. A child. The baron hadn't been so courteous. The last she saw of her parents was them nodding obediently, receiving a few pennies and a 'thank ye m'lord, you're ever so generous!'

"Well? Nothing to say, wench? First you seduce me over and over and over! Flaunting yourself all over me! Winking at me! Playing games with me! And I'm nothing but polite! Courteous! Friendly! And when I finally tire of your games and ask for more you have the gal to act offended! To be disgusted by me! Me! I'm the heir to the Dukedom of Avaran!" He picked her up by the neck again. "You're a peasant! A nobody! You should be honoured by the fact that I paid attention to you at all! You—" he dropped her.

We're not dead? the snarky part mused in bewilderment.
Both sane parts of her mind watched from her dazed eyes as Feng recoiled, as if bitten by a snake. Then he froze in place, ceasing to move all-together. He didn't blink, didn't breathe. As if he was a statue.

She vaguely became aware of footsteps behind her. Then she felt a large hand softly landing on her shoulder, where one of the larger cuts was. She gasped as she felt something stir from the wound, extending itself through her entire body as all three fragments were engulfed in something that cut her off entirely from the outside world. It only lasted for a brief moment, but when she regained her consciousness her mind was one again, the panic gone, and her body healed. That could only mean...
She turned around and was greeted by a warm smile as the hand pulled her to her feet with ease.
"Ma—" she began, before he cut her off with a gesture.

He walked past her, towards the still frozen Feng. Without knowing how he did it, the teacher let go of the... not spell. Trick? Illusion? She honestly had no idea how he did what he did. It did result in Feng crashing to the ground though.
"Student Feng. Recite to me the four rules you sworn to obey when you entered here." The voice wasn't cold, nor unpleasant. If anything, it carried a sort of bored acceptance.
"S-s-sir, I—"
"The rules, Feng," the teacher repeated.
"Sir, you do—" was about as far as he got before he started screaming in pain. The teacher hadn't moved. He stood still, several steps away from the man that was thrashing about on the ground as if he was under torture.
"The rules."
It took a while before Feng could respond, and even then it came in short screams as the pain continued. "Obey you! Don't damage the house! Don't go where we aren't allowed to go! Don't harm other students!" As soon as he finished reciting the rules the torment seemed to stop and his limbs flopped down on the floor.
"Do you think you broke one in this situation?"
"Sir, I—" He didn't get very far. The pain resumed instantly.
The teacher turned towards Melena. "Do you think he broke one?"
"Yes sir," she replied, her eyes downcast. She felt his fingers press against her chin, forcing her to look up.
"Don't be so down. You've done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, you've done very well. Split your mind in three? That's a damn rapid pace you're following."
She brightened a little. "Thank you, sir."
"Now then," he started, turning towards a still screaming Feng. "To deal with this mess. Nobody's been stupid enough to break the rules in a long time," he said, dragging on the-ong quite a bit. He cut off the flow of pain towards the student, who steadily climbed to his feet.
"Well then Feng? Anything to say for yourself?"
"Sir, I—"
"Good!" the teacher interrupted. "Better think well on it. Melena, be a good girl and gather the other students to the debate room, will you? And get your story straight, select your witnesses who can support your claims. Feng, I'll expect you to do the same. Oh don't worry, it was just a bit of pain, you're physically still perfectly healthy. Now off you two go. Don't make any troubles. I'm expecting to see all of you in the debate hall in about an hour from now."

Melena turned to obey, before pausing. Something bothered her. "Sir..."
"Yes girl?" came the instant reply. The teacher's face was kept carefully neutral, except for a twinkling in his eyes.
"How long were you standing behind me before you interfered?" she asked, unable to keep an accusing glare from leaking out.
The teacher smiled. "Ah, see, this is why I think you're such a promising student. You actually think rather than blindly absorb and act!" He leaned against one of the pillars and his eyes turned cold and dispassionate. He made a gesture towards Feng to scurry along, which the young man promptly did. "I was there the entire time. I knew this would happen as well. It's the very reason I let Feng study here in the first place. Stupid twat's worse than useless. Too arrogant and incompetent to realise that he doesn't belong here as well."
"Then wh—"
A sharp glare shut her up and she took a step back. She narrowed her eyes. If he had wanted her to keep quiet, he could've very easily given her enough pain to do so. He hadn't, however. If there was one thing she knew from how he taught then it was that he wanted people to think for themselves. So that's what she did. She slowly split her mind into three fragments again, letting each of them run along a different track of thought as they worked together towards the most probable solution. She felt encouraged by how the teacher was simply standing there, arms folded, patiently waiting.

"You wanted this to happen," she began. He didn't respond. That bit of info he had told her so himself. So she continued. "The other students never talk about what happens when someone breaks the rules. They disappear when we ask them. So it is a very heavy punishment."
"Does that concept bother you?" he asked, taking her off-guard.
She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "No, it doesn't."
"Why not?" Another weird question that she couldn't place.
"Because..." she hesitated. He waited. "Because of what I've been through. I don't feel pity for someone who has hurt me, and was planning to do so much more."
"Not entirely what I meant. After all, the two of you will still have to debate over who is the guilty party here."
She opened her mouth to protest against that, but fell silent when she spotted his feral grin. He was baiting her! When he noticed that she closed her mouth again, his grin turned into a broad smiled and he nodded encouragingly.
"Would be stupid of me to punish the useful student and let the idiot get off without a hitch, wouldn't it? Mind you, if he defends himself better than you..." he left the rest unsaid. "Now, continue."

She was starting to figure it out. The entire purpose of this charade. "You want to set an example. To make sure the rules are enforced. Because..." she ran through her minds, going over countless lectures and books that she read. "Because one example of a person getting punished will hold the rest better in check than countless warnings!"
He clapped his hands. "Spot on! Now why would I let you go through so much pain just for an example?"
That question shook her. She had started figuring it out, though. He gave part of the answers away through his facial expressions. All of them were nothing but an act, she realised that now. He taught. That was all he did.
"Because you don't care. I'm alive, you undid the damage, and you got what you wanted. All of us will have learned something."
"Exactly!" he clapped again, then crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. He towered over her, suddenly cold and uncaring. "I teach you. In return you respect my rules. Plenty of lessons are harsh, painful and downright distasteful. But at the end of the day, I do not care for you lot. You are temporary. Gone in a moment. A momentary distraction. I am not here to shelter you from life. Nor do I particularly care if you are happy or not," he whispered. She felt shivers of fear run across her spine.

"But that doesn't make any sense! You teach us and raise us and then you say you don't care for us! That doesn't make any sense at all!" she shouted, anger bubbling to the surface. The next thing she knew she was being tossed into the air while the teacher had a happy grin on his face.
"See, I knew you were a smart one!" he caught her again, ruffled her hair while laughing, and put her on the ground again. "Never believe things blindly. Always think for yourself. If you let others decide how your world is defined, you are lost." He winked at her. "Now go fetch the others. I expect to see a beautiful debate. And if you do well, I'll give you a chance for revenge on those who wronged you in the past, if you want it." He walked off, waving at her as he went.

She didn't move until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. She left to do what she was instructed, but couldn't shake off the tremendous confusion the teacher had left her with.




Melena and her handful of friends were waiting in the far corner of the debate room. They were clustered together in a tight formation, as far away from Feng and his larger group as they could. There was a mixture of fear hanging around her group that seemed to affect everyone but Melena. It was true that the teacher had left her thoroughly confused, but she had been thinking about it constantly since then. She doubted that he truly did not care, as that made no sense, but at the same time he really was not the type to tell a lie. All things considered she had drawn the conclusion that it was his intention to confuse her with the goal of making her think about things. Honestly, given that he droned on how critical thought was the mainstay to advance during every single lesson should have made that clear from the get-go. Then again, as he had also pointed out, there was a major difference between understanding a line of wisdom and actually comprehending it.

Or so she thought. At the very least it assured her that Feng wouldn't escape judgement or punishment. Not that the arrogant twat had any chance in her against a debate. He only focused on training martial skills. She had focused more on psychological traits, to strengthen her mind, and to enlarge her knowledge. According to the student that had accompanied her here, she had displayed quite a bit of skill when it came to diplomacy. Well, he had called it manipulation, but the teacher had said that the two were just opposing sides of the same coin.


Feng stood on the other side of the room, in the defendant's booth. A group of about a dozen students stood behind him, all of them human. They were milling about him, confidence oozing from them. Most of them came from wealthier families or were born in the household of minor nobles. There was a variety of topics that they studied, Melena knew. Most were focused on martial arts, like Feng, but plenty of them also studied mathematics and other subjects that may help them in later life. All of them, without exception, had a family to return to and a business or title waiting for them later in life.

Feng caught her looking at him and gave her a lecherous grin. His mouth moved as he silently spoke to her, well aware that lip-reading was one of the skills she had acquired during her stay here. If you beg for forgiveness and play nice from now on, I'll let you off.
The old her would have cowered from such a threat. The new her had been complimented by the teacher. A man who was as mysterious as he was wise and weird. She felt confidence in her well up. She wouldn't lose this debate, and it would be Feng who would be begging for mercy at the end of this. Feng's grin faded when he saw Melena react to him with a wolfish smile. From the way he shivered, she assumed she must had taken on quite the evil look. If she had bothered to look at the several dozens of students that were in the seats of the audience, she might have seen a number of them recoil. Calling it an 'evil look' wasn't doing it justice. Wearing the blood-red dress of the accuser, her long, straw-blonde hair falling behind her in a graceful plait, her pale skin, without wounds or scars thanks to the teacher's healing, and her violet eyes she seemed more like an agent of death than a human girl. The way her pearly white teeth were bared in a feral smile further enhanced that image. As it was, she remained blissfully unaware of it.
Feng, on the other hand, wearing the deep-blue of the defendant, didn't strike half as much of an imposing figure.


The chattering was cut short when the teacher appeared. He usually didn't stand on decorum, but even he had changed out of his eternal not-quite-leather outfit and had shown up wearing long, white robes that slid gracefully across the wooden boards with every step that he took. He didn't bother calling for silence as the stern look on his face made everyone quiet down on their own. He took to the central booth in a few short strides. The slight elevation added to his already imposing length as he looked around the courtroom. He nodded once when he noticed that no one was absent and started.
"Feng has been accused by Melena of breaking the rules. Melena claims that Feng harmed another student when he assaulted her with the intent of either violence, rape or murder. Feng, how do you claim?"
"Not guilty!"
"Melena, you may commence your accusation."

Melena took a deep breath and took to the front. "As you all now, Feng has long since flaunted his status. Even though all students here are judged by their ability and their ability alone, Feng has often disregarded this. Most of us do not know where the rest of us came from, nor what position we hold, but there is not a single one of us who does not know exactly what position he holds. As such, he is used to having his way, despite lacking ability.
Giving in to his baser desires earlier today, he approached me with the roughly phrased invitation to go to his room for sexual intercourse while I was on my way to report news of having reached the third fragmentation level to you, sir."
"Lies!" Feng interjected as the audience muttered appreciatively. Most students hadn't even managed to split their mind in two fragments, let alone in three.
"Keep in mind that while in the courtroom, lies will not be tolerated," the teacher interjected, talking to both. "What was the exact phrase he used?"
Melena felt herself turn slightly red but continued on. "The exact phrase was: 'Why don't you bring that sweet ass to my room and I'll show you a good time.' Given that this was accompanied by a slap on said sweet ass, I do not believe there is any room for debate on the point of that invitation."
"No room for debate on the sweetness of aforementioned ass, or on the meaning of his invitation?" asked the teacher with a complete dead-pan expression.
Melena blushed furiously while the rest of the room burst into laughter, with some of Feng's friend hooting at her.
She glared at the teacher and decided to not be outdone. "Both!" she shouted back, proudly. When no response aside more laughter came forth, she continued. "I denied Feng, telling him I was not interested. I tried to leave and he took offense to that. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to the ground. When he tried to force himself on me, I kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to back off."
"How hard did you kick him?"
Melena blinked, taken off guard by the sudden interjection. "As hard as I could."
"Do you think it would have left a bruise?"
"I... think so, yes."
"Noted. Please, continue."
"Using this momentary distraction I got up and made a run for it. He caught up with me and..." she gulped, audibly. She closed her eyes for a moment as she found a shiver of fear running through her, her hands going up to her throat instinctively as she recalled the dreadful moment. "He grabbed me by the neck. Threw me into the ground hard enough that I crashed into the wall and broke several bones. He then grabbed me again, insulting me all the way. I... must admit I do not quite recollect what he said to me specifically. I had retreated into my mind at that point. He threw me again, picked me up again by the neck, started to crush my throat..." She felt a single tear run down her face and hated herself for it. She forced down the others and made herself stare at the audience, daring them to defy her.
"Then the teacher arrived and Feng backed down. That ended the confrontation between us."

The teacher nodded solemnly and turned towards Feng. "Defend yourself," he merely said.
Feng made a graceful bow, polite noble from his toes to his fingertips, and took to the front of his booth.
"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow students, I stand before you falsely accused."
Melena could barely suppress a hiss. How dared he!
"As a matter of fact, the entire tirade of the accuser is nothing but a memory. A fancy a pretty girl dreamed up when I didn't give her everything she wished. As the truth stands, ladies and gentlemen, there is a long history of courtship between Melena and I. She has often expressed an interest in me, through either physical gesture or spoken word. If you deem it necessary, sir, I will repeat what she said, but to save both her and me embarrassment, I would hope you are kind enough to forego that." He nodded deferentially towards the teacher, who nodded in turn, allowing him to continue unhindered. "It was a long and subtle dance of courtship, teasing and playfully challenging the other. As good things go, however, I called it to an end, telling her I tired of the games between us. That I wanted things to either continue further, or cease all-together. When my requests for clarity were met with more playful teasing, which was encouraging in nature, I may have resorted to using more crude language." He pronounced the word crude as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "She then surprised me by asking me what she would receive in turn, hinting at monetary rewards."
Melena's eyes flashed with anger and her mouth fell wide open in shock as she couldn't believe what she heard.

"I... politely told her that I wasn't interested in her in that capacity. If she was up for some harmless fun I would have had no qualms with it, but a man of my status can't afford to have such scandals haunting him. I told her that if she wanted to whore herself out, that she should seek others."
Melena's beautiful face was now contorted in barely suppressed anger.
"Sir, please, I kindly ask you to keep in mind that my father and I are men of honour. I never wished for things to spiral out of control to this extent over something as minor as a dispute over bedding rights, and you would have my eternal gratitude if this case could be concluded quietly, without both parties having to hang their head in shame." He looked towards the teacher with pleading eyes, the perfect image of innocence, as if he hated having to trouble the girl as well, despite that she was at fault.

Melena was flabbergasted. Feng had never shown himself to be more than a crude knuckle-head, but here he was being diplomatic, influencing the entire room. She could feel the audience shifting away from her. She had never interacted much with them, unlike the much more sociable Feng. The earlier comment she had proudly made about her rear had further reinforced Feng's statements. But the teacher had forced her to say that. Why had he—
"Noted. Continue." Melena looked at the teacher, a mixture of desperation and disbelief in her eyes.
"When I denied her, she started threatening me. That she would slander my name and would see me expelled, among other things. There were several insults added as well, that I do not believe should be repeated. When I ignored those threats and wanted to walk away, she started hurting herself. She threw herself against the walls, started choking herself... It shocked me and I am ashamed to say I was late in responding. I tried to stop her, keep her from hurting herself, but she kicked me. I must admit that the kick angered me and I used force to restrain her, attempting to block the blood-flow towards her head to knock her out to keep her from doing more harm to herself. That is when you appeared, teacher. I understood immediately what it must have looked like to you, and feared the misunderstanding that would and did flow forth from it. I cannot hold any ill will against you for that though," he said with a deep bow. "Your actions were commendable and I would have done the same, had I seen what you had seen."

The teacher leaned down onto the booth on his elbows, his head resting on his hands. A small smile played around his lips. "Anything else to add, Feng?"
"None, sir. Although, if I may be so bold as to ask, would you be lenient towards Melena? I know of her background, and understand that she has many hardships behind her. I would not want a momentary mistake to harm her future."

Melena's friends were chattering worriedly behind her, while Feng's group patted him on the back and congratulated him on his speech, saying they felt sorry for what he had gone through and other words of support. Feng himself remained the perfect example of graceful innocence. Willing to be generous despite being wronged. Melena, on the other hand, was caught in a middle of two raging emotions; fear and anger. Had the teacher been bribed? Had he lured her into this trap? She paled when another possibility presented himself. Had this been their ploy from the start? To exile her so they could let her disappear and leave her at their mercy?

Then she caught a small glance he threw her way and her rationality kicked in. No. If he wanted to toy with her that way, he would have only had to ask. It would have been a small price to pay to let her stay here. Aside that, he was strong. He wouldn't need to have asked. He could have taken her at any time he wanted. Then what was going on?

"Audience, you may now vote on the verdict. Do you believe Feng is guilty of harming another student?"
Plates went up. There were a handful of green ones, indicating a 'yes', but the red representing 'no' was by far in the majority.
"Do you believe Melena is guilty of harming another student?"
The same as before, except that the green and red was switched.
"Good. The court has judged. Feng is found innocent of harming another student, while Melena is found guilty."

Melena opened her mouth to protest but was shushed by a raised hand. The teacher looked up, a truly vicious glare coming from his blood red eyes. "I hope you all enjoyed the debate. It was fun, entertaining even. A good lesson. Melena was a good accuser, we even added in a bit of raunchy comedy. Feng defended himself in a truly exemplary manner. His noble upbringing really showed through."

The audience remained quiet. The glare coming their way shut everyone up. Though the teacher's voice was calm, pleasant even, the stare he gave them was anything but.

"Now, I all taught you how important thinking for yourself is. A global rule that we all should abide if we want to get ahead in the world. Now I'll teach you another rule. One that is undeniably true and supersedes all the others."
He breathed in and leaned forward, his voice a loud thunder.
"Might! Makes! Right!"
He slammed the palm of his hand down onto the booth, stunning them all before continuing.
"Feng defended himself damn well. Managed to fool all of you. Your verdict declared him innocent. Now hear mine. He is guilty. He harmed another student, lied despite having been ordered to speak the truth, and disobeyed me. Three times he broke my rules, three times he will pay. You may call him innocent, but all of you are worthless maggots compared to me! Do you understand that? This important lesson? You are weak! I am strong! My word is law! There are many types of strength. Feng used his strength in manipulation, his social standing, being popular and spinning a good tale to delude all of you! You became his strength, fools that you are! You gave him the ability to let him get away with harming others! With breaking my rules! Melena, on the other hand, lacked that strength, despite being honest! Yet she stands here now, victorious! Because in this case she can use my strength!"

He slammed his hand down again, allowing silence to return to the stunned court.
"Do you all understand, children?" he asked, his voice quiet and pleasant again. "At the end of everything, might truly makes right. The strongest can dictate how life will go. Feng, dear, you truly put up an exemplary defence. Honestly, it was quite a feat. You lulled all of them into eating up your story like it was coated in honey. I didn't think you had it in you. That's a lie you see, but you'd like to believe it because you're scared shitless given that you're caught. Oh, don't worry my boy. You don't have to be scared."

The teacher turned towards the room again, the perfect image of a caring professor. "You see children, being scared in front of a future you cannot avoid is truly just a waste of thoughts. You could try to steel yourself for it instead, prepare, try to think of a way to get around it, minimise your losses and the damage you'll take."

He turned towards Feng, who had gone as white as snow. "Well Feng, since you broke my rules three times I'm really not going to be lenient towards you. I'll tell you what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to put you in front of the Sitimi wing, you know, where all the non-knuckle head classes are? Then I'm going to lock your mind into a state of permanent torment. Your own nightmares will come alive and devour you whole. You'll be perfectly conscious throughout the whole process. Little by little, your mind will be devoured and you'll stay in a state of suffering the worst pains imaginable. I'll even make sure your feeble spirit will be properly reinforced, so you can withstand an even greater amount of pain. You always wanted to know why the older students don't talk about what happened to people who break the rules, don't you? It's because the screams of those stupid enough to defy me still haunt their dreams. You aren't even aware yet of how much pain you'll be going through. And the best part?"

The teacher casually hopped over the booth and started approaching Feng. His friends fell over themselves trying to get away, abandoning their friend. "It will take you over a month to die. Slowly. Painfully. Agonisingly." With every word the teacher got closer, his grin becoming more monstrous.
"M-my father—"
"Will have his dukedom razed to the ground, his farmlands salted and will receive your head on a pike as a reminder who he has to thank for his fate," the teacher quickly summarised.
"Mind you, he'll die in the end. Screaming like a pig and cursing your name," he finished, sounding truly monstrous this time as his anger became visible.
"You monster!" Feng shouted, stumbling backwards, falling over his own robes. The teacher hovered over him in an instant, his hand covering his mouth as his fingers steadily started exerting more and more pressure on Feng, who let out a muted scream in rabid fear. Blood-red eyes gazed into his.
"Oh yes. I'm quite the monster. And you poked it. Have fun in the afterlife."

With those words Feng's fate was sealed and the screaming began. True to his word, they would haunt the dreams of everyone present, even Melena, who had wished a horrible fate on him. As the students tried to run out of the courtroom, vomiting and crying as they went, the teacher called Feng's friends back.
"Put him up in front of the Sitimi wing. Then come back here and clean up everything the rest dirtied. You were his friends in life. Don't abandon him in death." The glare he gave them made it clear that he was not to be refused on this, and his voice was strangely solemn. From monster to instructor in a heartbeat.
"Don't worry, you'll run out of stuff to vomit soon and then you can carry him without having to clear up the entire path there. Best wait a bit until it's all poured out," he advised them, before he walked out of the room at a brisk pace.

He caught up with a crying Melena, who had sunk down in the hallway, her beautiful body covered in bodily fluids and her face marred with grief and tears.
"There you are!" he said, giving her a friendly wave. "You and I ought to have a chat." The grin he gave her was friendly and calming. It would be hard to imagine such a pleasant looking person to be capable of such monstrous acts.
He pulled her up by the shoulder, gently, his eyes soft and radiating worry for her. He wrinkled his nose as he smelled her. "Oh dear, best take a detour to the baths first. Get you cleaned up. Must be unpleasant to smell like that, although I do fear you have different things on your mind now. Come along."

He picked her up like she weighed nothing more than a feather and strolled off. Melena felt a mental presence stroke against her mind, distracting her from the nightmarish screams that echoed through the building. She looked up and was greeted by a warm and comforting smile. Both mentally and physically exhausted, the girl nestled herself against her teacher's broad chest and let sleep take her. Despite everything that happened, she still felt safe.

A stream of water hitting her face woke her up. She jumped upright, instantly alert. Eyes wide, she took in her environment, heart beating loudly in her chest. It took her a moment to orient herself. She was in one of the many rooms in the baths, the teacher sitting down on one knee in front of her, smiling warmly at her. She shook her head, clearing the remnants of the fog of sleep from her mind. Her brain kicked itself into gear and recent events flooded back to her. She looked warily at him as he got back up and walk towards a cupboard.

"No need to look so suspicious at me. I won't bite."
She blinked. He hadn't turned his head at all. She looked around to see if there were any mirrors around, but couldn't find any. Her eyebrows came down as she stared at him in confusion.
"Yeah, that's one of the things we'll have a talk about." In a smooth movement he stepped out of his robes. With the exception of a small bit of cloth around his waste he was utterly naked. Melena felt herself blush and covered her face with her hands. She didn't quite know why she did it, it was an instinctive reaction. Then she slowly created a gap between her fingers to look through. She was greeted by a warm laugh as she sneaked a peek at him. What she saw made her redden further.

If she was considered the female embodiment of beauty, then her teacher could compete for the same title on the male side. It wasn't really the way he looked, although that didn't make much sense. His facial features were strong, well defined. His red eyes, no longer resembling boiling blood now that his anger had subsided, had the colour of burning embers. They caught her gaze for far longer than was appropriate, but he seemed content with leaning back against the cupboard and smiling lazily at her, as if he could read her mind and knew perfectly well what she was thinking. Then her eyes wandered further, across his body. Despite between being very familiar with what happened between a man and a woman, she had never received any joy from it the way normal humans had. Her history in that regard had been filled with violence and slavery. Yet when she looked at him she felt her cheeks heat in a way that was strangely pleasant. He radiated strength in a natural way. The way in which his muscles flexed underneath his skin as he crossed his arms, his smile turning into a grin while he slowly shook his head, reminded her of how the lightning-quick separs behaved. The cat-like creatures were lazy, seemingly at ease, before suddenly striking on a prey several times their sizes. Those animals had strength that belied their size.

"If you're done with that, we need to have a chat. A proper one."
She couldn't respond. She tried to turn her head to look away from him or at least close the gap between her fingers, and failed in both attempts. No matter how much she tried to urge herself to stop gazing at him, she couldn't. Then he laughed. A mesmerising sound. A source of vocal ambrosia that intoxicated her and made her slowly drop her hands and look at him with a broad smile. He shook his head, then looked at her. Not the way he normally looked. He caught her gaze and held it. He looked at her. In her. She felt as if he was dissecting her, and was surprised when she found it a pleasant experience. Her mind was being pulled on from all directions, all somehow related to him and despite being lost in the storm, she couldn't help but smile. He didn't smile however.

"Split your mind. Three parts. Let one part do the drooling if you have to, keep the other two sane. We need to talk about starting your studies properly."
She gave him a slow, confused look. At least she thought she did. Was she giving him such a look? She still was captive by those deep red eyes, wasn't she? At least they weren't dull embers anymore. They were glowing. It was nice to look at. Almost magically.
Then she felt him growl and suddenly she fell into those eyes as the fire in them swallowed her whole.

She blinked. He was leaning against the cupboard, still in that attractive state of undress. He was also giving her a slightly annoyed look, but she somehow knew it wasn't aimed at her. Two more parts of her mind started piping up, making her aware that her mind had somehow split again.

"Better."
"Sir... What..."
He sighed loudly before shaking his head. "It's..." he made a waving gesture with his hands, somehow seeming exasperated. "It's common. Can't blame you really. It's... Part of the reason why I don't properly teach anyone until they can show proper promise in critical thought and split their mind three-ways. Notice how one part of you is purely focused on me? Keep it that way. Keep one part focused on the rest of your body and guarding the first part and leave the last for talking to me. Think you can do that?"
She closed her eyes. Following direct instructions, yes, she could do that. She opened her eyes again after a brief moment, shrugging off the unease in how that one part of her mind was utterly smitten with him. She nodded.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "You have honestly no idea how annoying it is for me to constantly keep my barriers up to keep you all from getting influenced that way. Really hinders me from properly teaching. Now, new rules coming up, you're officially a student now. Hold on, interrupt me later, listen now."
She nodded again, closing her mouth and swallowing her questions.
"Right, first rule is that you will speak your mind, always. If you're confused, if you don't get something, if you doubt my sanity, voice it. Speaking your mind will not get you punished. Two, never stop using your mind, but don't let societal limits hinder you. This will get more clear as you learn more. Third rule is that you still obey me while you study here, but you're free to leave if you want so, after talking to me about it. You'll be handling a lot more expensive equipment and dangerous knowledge from now on and I'd rather not set loose a plague on the world. The first few times were bad enough. Fourth rule is that I decide on what you get to know. There are things I will teach you, parts of the Mansion I'll make accessible for you, and there are parts I will keep hidden. You will respect that. That's about it really. Never been too fond of too many rules. Your turn now. Go nuts with questions," he said, giving her a wide grin.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She eyed him warily, wondered what question to ask first of the several hundred that were fighting within her, each demanding to be voiced first. "What do you mean with that I'm officially a student now? I thought I was studying here for two years now?"
He let out a snicker. "No you weren't. You and the rest were just a handful of... prospects really. Not even that. Honestly, I let most of you in for my own entertainment and because you're useful as examples for the worthwhile students. Although, I must confess I'm not using 'you' correctly here. You remember that you were brought here by Evon, right?"
She nodded. That was an event she would never forget. Evon had saved her from slavery after a long party at the estate she had belonged to. He was one of the guests, a wealthy merchant. Then, after having talked extensively to her for the entire night, he had declared that he'd buy her. When her owner had refused, he had simply killed him, proceeded to slaughter every single guard trying to stop him, and took her out for a stroll. He had been nothing but kind to her, but distant and more than slightly mad. He had driven her straight to here, dropped her off in front of the teacher, told her to have fun and went off again. Which had proven pretty par for the course given how her lectures in the next two years had been, if the teacher bothered to show up.
"Right, that's precisely the difference between you and most other students. I'm a bit known as a teacher. That this place can serve as a very strict but absolutely excellent university. Which is a load of rat-droppings honestly. The only students that are worthwhile to me are the ones that my own students find and bring back."

Melena felt lost. "But I don't have any special talent! I was used for my..." she trailed off, embarrassed.
He laughed again. That musical sound again. It was so different to how he usually laughed. This was genuine. It filled her with joy, but this time her fragmented mind managed to redirect the overwhelming sensations to the part of her that was already smitten. He gave her a lecherous grin with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "For your 'sweet ass'?" he asked. She turned as red as a tomato and looked down, realising she was still in her red robes, finally realising they were soaked, the vomit washed out. Before she could focus on that, the teacher continued. "Yeah, no. My dear, you've got a fair bit of ability to you. Just not the one people usually look for. You learned how to split your mind three-ways awfully quickly. You can think things through and, personally I value this quite highly, you learn rapidly from your mistakes and your mind is quick to take another direction when one is blocked. You don't stubbornly smash yourself into a wall when it's proven that a train of thought leads to a dead end. Don't worry if you don't fully get that yet, as you grow you will start figuring out what I mean."

She decided to accept that for a truth and choose to ask another question. "When you said that you didn't care, was that the truth?"
"Depends on your definition of care, really."
She jumped out of the chair, growled at him and was taken aback by her own action. "Don't play semantics with me!" As soon as the words left her mouth she slapped her hand over it, visibly shocked by what she said.
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Reckon your other fragment is struggling with keeping the first in control. Anyway, you're right. Don't forget you're actually allowed to talk back to me now. To answer your question: no, I don't care. I'm... honestly a bit beyond that. Yet, at the same time I do care, in a different way. Lives come, lives go, you can fight against that, delay it, sometimes even manage to subvert the damnable flow of time, but what happens, happens. Caring in that aspect? It leads to pain."

For a singular moment she saw grief flash through his eyes. More grief than she thought humanly possible. She felt her arms turn to lead and her legs turn to pudding. They didn't hold up and she started falling to the ground. Then he caught her. His arm slipped around her waist as he had somehow crossed the distance between her without a sound, in the blink of an eye. He was so close to her, intoxicatingly close as she suddenly became aware of all the things he radiated! His warmth, his scent, a comfortable feeling. Combined with the grief she just wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go. Then he stepped back, giving her a slight push so she fell back onto the chair.
"On the other hand," he whispered sadly, "I do care. Because that makes life worth living."
Where grief had passed behind his eyes a moment ago, now it was a well of boundless hope. It invigorated her, pumped her body full of almost reckless energy. She had the sudden urge to dance and couldn't stop grinning.

She blinked and was surprised to see him standing several feet away from her again, pacing through the room as if he was giving a lecture.
"Another thing you really need to keep in mind when dealing with me is that I have a flair and love for the dramatic, and that I cannot help being a damnably influential creature. And I'm not talking about the same influence Feng claimed to have. Mine's a lot more dangerous and I need to be constantly mindful of it. Although I may let part of it slip from time to time to highlight a point. Or for my own amusement. Or maybe I'm just careless." He gave her a playful wink. "Honestly, who can tell?"

"You're mad!" she accused him, but couldn't stop laughing as she said it.
"What is chaos to the fly is order to the spider," he countered, suddenly the very image of a stern professor.
She kept laughing. She was beyond being confused now. The way his very being influenced her, how he jumped between characters, how she was nearly raped and murdered, had her last sanctuary nearly torn to pieces, had gained hope for revenge, had that hope dashed, only to have it rekindled while receiving the fright of her life, then seeing her revenge become something truly vile and nightmarish, then this!


He disappeared as she kept laughing. On and on it went, from deep down in her belly the bursts came. Tears formed in her eyes and she started gasping for breath as it went on and on and on, utterly unable to call it to a halt. She was vaguely aware of water rushing through pipes around her, but it was a distant sound compared to the roars of laughter rolling from the walls. She must have crashed to the floor at one point, because she found herself laying on the smooth tiles, clutching her stomach as she was doubled over in pain. Sobs and tears started accompanying her laughs as they kept going. At one point the teacher returned and gently picked her up, rocking her back and forth as if she were but a babe rather than fully grown woman, softly whispering calming words in her ears as his fingers tenderly stroked her hair.

It took a while, but eventually she stopped laughing and crying. She looked up and found his face comfortably close, but the earlier feeling of undeniable attraction was gone. Had he locked it again behind barriers, or had she gotten a more thorough hold of herself now that she had expelled a lifetime's worth of emotions? She consulted the other parts of her mind and found that they had merged again. Rather than feeling whole, she felt strangely empty and was quick to divide it again. Hearing the soft murmuring of her other selves' thoughts running parallel along this version of her was strangely soothing. Made even stranger because all three parts of her shared that opinion, and all were equally her.
She focused her attention back to the here and now, the physical aspect of it all, and saw nothing but patience on his face.
"Will you really kill Feng's father?" she asked with a weak voice.
A soft smile appeared. "What do you think?"
"I don't know you well enough to guess. You might, but you might not..."
"I'm not asking you to guess, dear," he encouraged her.
"I... Can I get a hint?" She was using a childlike voice. She knew it was likely a useless machination to try on him, but she figured there was no harm in trying. If it amused him, he may actually give her one.
He smiled. Success! she thought. "Fine then. Think of the law of the lazy."
She blinked in surprise. "Make sure something needs doing before doing it?"
He nodded.
Her eyes widened. "You won't!" she exclaimed.
"Won't I?" he asked, a twinkle shining brightly in his eyes.
"No!"
"Oh really?"
"Yeah! Because there's nothing to be gained!"
"Are you sure about that? Maybe I don't want to be bothered for a while and setting fire to a dukedom would go a long way towards that."
"I..." she faltered. That was an idea she hadn't thought of. "But he did nothing to you!" she protested.
"He sent his son to me. That son hurt one of my students. It was his son that caused those troubles. He raised that boy."
As she struggled to ponder that, one of her other fragments came to the front with a reply. "You already punished him! And you're the one that let him stay!"
"Ooh, and she counters! What if I tell you though, that this man treats others the same way you were treated?"
Unbidden dark thoughts jumped to the front and she felt her face contort with anger. Then the anger recoiled from her with surprising force as her mental training kicked in. "Then he deserves to die, but not those around him."
"Oh really? I think he's quite free have such hobbies though. Might makes right after all."
She felt a sudden hunger well up inside of her. A dark feeling. The call of revenge. "But you are mightier."
"I might be." She knew that he was studying her. That it was a set up. Another test. The desire for revenge was overwhelming though.
"Then you—"
He laid his finger on her lips, shushing her. She suddenly realised that she was still in his arms and that she had halfway climbed up towards his face. A sudden reminder struck her that he was still mostly naked and that her own robes were soaked and clinging rather tightly to her. Blood flooded towards her cheek as she let herself fall back into his arms, making herself as tiny as she could.

He put her down, very slowly. Stately even. Moving carefully and with grace he went to stand in front of her. Every step was measured. It was a steady approach, official. Every time he planted his foot down he did so fully.

When he finally stopped he was standing a mere two steps away from her. Seeing him tower over her like that really made her become aware of just how tall he was.
"Melena. It it time for you to learn how to wield your spirit. It is time for you to decide on your future. From here on out, you and I shall discuss your destiny. Discard all. Leave your mind bare."

She had never heard him speak like that before. He sounded less than a teacher or a professor and more like an oracle, a king, emperor even! His voice had filled the room without being raised and she had been held captive in those deep pools that were his eyes.

She was barely aware of him walking through an open door in a different room of the baths. She came to her senses just in time to see him drop the last piece of cloth before disappearing into the dense steam. Realising she was supposed to follow, she hurriedly got rid of her own clothes and ran after him.
It was perhaps inappropriate given the official tone he had used only a moment before, but the last thoughts she had before entering the dense fog were focused on a, to phrase it roughly, sweet, sweet ass.




The fog of steam was much denser than she had anticipated. The moment she had stepped into it, it had swallowed her whole. She couldn't see anything in it. She held up her hand in front of her face and frowned when even that was hidden from her despite the meagre distance. The smell hit her a moment later. It was an unfamiliar scent. Strangely pleasant, yet at the same time utterly foreign. She hesitated to call it magical, given that it was quite common knowledge that the teacher was a freak of nature since he didn't generate magic like virtually every other living creature did, but the scent had a certain inhuman flair to it.

It wasn't natural steam, that much she was sure of. With every step she took she grew more hesitant as the fog became thicker, as if the steam itself was trying to keep her from advancing. She was vaguely aware of her teacher was waiting for her somewhere ahead. She could somehow feel his presence. She didn't doubt that it was his doing. He had been showing off similar tricks all day long. Probably with the intent of giving her some insight into what it meant to wield 'spirit'.

As she took another step she let out a loud gasp. The steam had suddenly become a physical barrier. A cloud that clung to her naked body and hindered her movement. It felt frightening. No longer was she just stepping through an inanimate mist of water vapour. It acted as if it was a living entity. It swirled around her, grabbed hold of her and tried pulling her deeper into itself. She struggled and managed to pull back a few steps, to where she knew it was safe. Except it was safe no longer. It lurched after her, grabbed hold of her once more and pulled her forward again. She resisted as best as she could. The touch was no longer pleasant. It felt offensive, dirty, touching her in all the right places to make her recall all the wrong memories.

She opened her mouth to scream and the mist rolled in. It acted like a ball of cloth propped in her mouth, keeping her quiet. She pulled her arms back only to find the mist, previously only holding her wrist, to encroach down on the entire length of her forearm and pulling her in deeper. She felt herself panic. First one part of her mind. Then another as the mist kept dragging her deeper into the unknown and she felt water hit her feet as the floor tilted downwards. With every step that she was dragged forward, the mist encased her further. It grew more solid as it went, but never lost it's disgusting feeling of being an unstable substance. It was wrapped tightly around her limbs, but tendrils of it started embracing the rest of her. Deeper into the water she was pulled and she tried biting into the steam blocking her mouth when the tendrils reached her breasts, encasing those as well. Next to be covered was her nose. She could still breath, but that was the extent of it. Her eyes widened as she realised that it was slowly depriving her of all her senses.  She felt a modicum of pride that it wasn't until she was down to her neck in the water and the steam started covering her ears that the third part of her started panicking.

She was about to accept her fate, immobilised and deprived of all her senses safe touch, when it all stopped. The mist didn't withdraw, but it ceased being solid. Melena went from being completely encased to being fully free without any warning. She lost her footing and fell into the water. If it is water she thought to herself, rapidly resurfacing. The liquid was as impossible to see through as the steam was. A pang of worry struck her when she remembered the lesson involving lungs and the effect gasses could have on them. She wished she had paid more attention to the class, because then she might have been able to put her worries as to whether the steam would slowly fill her lungs with water to rest.

When her teacher spoke, she jumped up and screamed.
"Didn't I tell you to leave your mind bare?"
She stammered a reply, unable to calm down her frightened mind.
"If you had discarded your worry and stopped focusing on everything else, you wouldn't have felt it when I used the steam to pull you in. Let alone have to drag you in while you put up a fight."
That broke through her fear and her eyes widened in rage as pure anger set het blood aflame. "You!" she accused, pointing a finger out of habit even though she couldn't see where he was and was guessing for his location at best. "You did all that!"
"I did."
Life itself be damned, she could feel the smugness radiating from him. "Do you have any idea how that felt to me? What it reminded me of!" she shouted, taking a step back and trying to use the way the water splashed to get an idea of where he was. Given how close his voice had sounded, he couldn't be that far off.
"I might have a suspicion what it reminded you of, yes."
She half stepped, half swam through the water, getting closer to his voice. "You utter bastard! You don't know what it feels like! Being used as a toy! Not even being seen as a human being! Only existing to serve for someone's fucking pleasure!"


She jumped when she felt large arms embrace her from behind. They gently slid down from her shoulders, just aside her chest, over her belly, before the hands rested tenderly on her hips. She felt her teacher's chest — who else could it be — press against her back.
"Oh, I think I might know how that feels," he whispered into her ear. She felt her mind spin. His sudden appearance from behind her had taken her completely off guard and had sent the three parts of her mind spinning. Emotions warred for supremacy while her body felt the need to point out that his touch felt incredibly pleasant. Were his barriers down again and was he subtly influencing her? The lack of certainty further fuelled her anger and she moved her leg back, searching for his feet. When she found it, she raised her own foot and brought her heel down onto his toes, as hard as she could manage. Pulling herself loose, she struggled slightly to bring her hand up above the water. She turned around, somehow knew exactly where he was and brought her hand down with all the force she could muster, squarely in his face.

The next moment she launched herself at him the best she could. Without hesitation she threw her arms and legs around him, clinging as tightly to him as her meagre strength allowed. She had tried to get high enough to properly kiss him on the lips, but the water had kept her from jumping that high and she had to settle for planting her lips in his neck. When she felt the hands that she had shaken free a moment earlier land on her backside, she tightened her hold on him, using every ounce of strength she had to pull herself up. She made use of his arms as they slid upwards across her back, his fingers setting her body aflame as they slowly progressed, to push herself further up. She felt a desperate heat building up inside her body as she neared his lips. A desire that was stronger than anything she had ever felt before ran from her head to her toes. It excited her, intoxicated her. She didn't care whether this was his doing or not anymore, all that mattered to her was that it wouldn't end! She'd beg him if she had to, just to let it continue! To let it spiral further down, to let it escalate until she'd explode from passion! Never before had she had the chance to actually enjoy it, always having to obey, always having to provide! As his arms tightened around her back, pinning her in place she almost howled with pure want, her nails digging into his skin. One hand remained in place as the other slid further upwards until it reached the back of her head and pushed her closer to his, forcing her to take her lips off his neck. She felt his near her ear —actually felt it!— and arched her back in ecstasy, pressing her breasts hard into his chest, further enhancing the pleasure she felt.

She became aware how his mouth opened, could make out the details on his lips, the line of his teeth and his tongue laying behind them without being able to see it, and she ached for them to touch her, it didn't matter how! Then he finally whispered to her.
"What do you think you're doing?"

The effect of those words was instant. Had she spend her entire life living in a desert only to be suddenly teleported to an icy wasteland, the shock could not have been greater. She lost strength in her limbs and fell off him. He caught her gently, but even that did not diminish the sudden loss and shock that she felt. His touch no longer pleasant, she tried to pull herself away from him. It turned out he didn't approve of that.


Before she knew what was happening the mist started swirling around her. It wasn't like earlier when it remained in place but the solidity of it changed. Now it was actually swirling, like a great hurricane that raged all around her. It pulled on her hair and nearly tore her out of her teacher's arms. She could see again and what she saw terrified her. She was staring into his blood-red eyes from up close, his massive frame mere inches away from her. She saw anger and annoyance behind those eyes and his presence thundered around her like an apocalyptic storm. He assaulted her with it. His presence crashed against her fragments and the meagre defence they put up was overwhelmed in an instant. It was a sensation unlike anything she had ever witnessed. She couldn't even describe it except that it overpowered her every sense. She felt how her mind shut off every connection it had to her physical body in an attempt to not drown in the flood of sensations that he conjured deep within her. It was a fruitless effort. He smashed through her barriers and filled every corner of her mind. She felt her fragments pull together in a far corner and put up a desperate, final resistance. Then that too was snuffed out.


"To start things off, I'd like you to know that nothing that just happened now was because of my influence. Everything you felt, did, saw and believed was all of your own doing. The steam is made up with a lot of herbs that strongly enhance any emotion. There's a fair number of hallucinogens in there. I didn't expect you to off on that tangent."
The voice was inside of her. Hang on. Inside of her? Where was she anyway? For that matter, where was anything?
"Aye, pretty confusing isn't it? Welcome to the inside of your own mind. Don't worry if it doesn't make sense, you'll get used to it as you spend more time here."
She tried to talk, then realised she lacked a mouth. Or a face. Or a body! Then she felt a stab of panic when she became aware that all of her senses weren't there! She still had an awareness, but she couldn't tie it down to anything. And where was his voice coming from!"
"Calm down!"
It soothed her. It shouldn't have as she was still quite angry from the avalanche of emotions he had unleashed on her, but it did.
"Don't try to talk. Think. I can hear you just fine. This is your mind, I merely invaded it to make you calm down a bit and talk about spirit in a more efficient way."
She felt torrents of thoughts pour through her as she felt how he carefully neutralised her emotions, reducing them to mere shadows of themselves, leaving her pure intellect bare.
"Is this what you meant earlier? About abandoning all and leaving my mind free?"
"Yes, that's precisely it."
"Then why don't you use this from the start?" It was strange. With her emotions mostly out of the picture, it was so easy to think. She couldn't fragment her mind though, which did feel weird.
"Your mind is fragmented. It just doesn't feel that way in here because this is the sum of all your fragments."

She saw him. Not with her eyes, but she saw him. Inaccurate description. She felt him? No, that was no good either. She felt? Heard? Smelled? him laugh.
"Stop that. People have gone mad trying to describe how senses work in here. It's easier to accept that, or if you really insist on using a word that can actually be applied, then use lactiobe."
"And what does that mean?"
He grinned. "Well trying to translate it really defeats the purpose of giving it a word in the first place."
"Oh." It made sense. She felt strangely stupid. Wait, he grinned. How did he grin?
"Basically our minds work a lot faster than our thoughts do. In the same way we often do things that we would struggle to describe. Try describing every step your body goes through when opening a door. Your mind makes your body do it, but try to make it a conscious action and you'll be writing for a long while. So when we're in here your conscious mind tries to make sense of it by creating images and feelings you can relate to. If we dealt in pure information the way our mind did, pretty much nobody would survive entering this state."

She pondered on that for a while. It made sense, but only in the way that everything else he had said made sense so far. By accepting that it was utterly beyond her, trusting her teacher to speak the truth, and moving on.
"To answer your earlier question," he interrupted her, "this is about the biggest invasion of privacy that you can imagine. For a mind as strong as my own? I see everything that's in here the moment I enter it."
She felt a strong blush. Apparently her emotions hadn't been numbed down that much.
"Everything?" It wasn't a spoken word, but she felt how she struggled to utter it. Think it. Whatever! The part of her mind that she had assigned to be busy being smitten with him had been very active.
He brushed her concerns aside by simply moving on to a different subject and it brought her great relief. Now that she was fully sane again, she was taken aback just how strongly her urges and desire had been. Not unjustified, mind you. He was strong, smart, handsome, maybe a bit of a jerk —alright, a lot of a jerk— but he was kind in the end. Wealthy too. There were worse people to feel attracted to and fantasize about. And that a— no, no, no! She was doing it again! Dammit, didn't he say he had disabled her emotions?
"You came to the conclusion on your own. I never said that. Besides, they're not disabled, merely numbed down. Emotions are pivotal. They provide us with a drive after all."
Damn. So he heard that too.

"Anyway, how about we get back to the topic at hand? You've given it a fair amount of thought. Your mind still works in its usual three-ways even if it feels like one, and with me being pretty much all over your mind, you've gleamed a fair bit from my own thoughts as well. Tell me what you've concluded so far."
She sat up straighter. Or didn't. Mindscape, confusing place. Right, question. Answering it. "The spirit works as a way to use your mind as a weapon or tool. It lets you project your own thoughts towards the outside. Even influence physical things. It's how you punished Feng. You used his own mind against him. How... I don't quite fathom that, but I reckon you'll point out that it's a 'you'll learn it as you go' thing. And the reason you wait with this until people can split their mind in three parts is because that's the very minimum needed to wield your mind that way. One part to function normally. One part to think. One part to project. And the reason you are so utterly confusing about all of this is to keep people from overthinking it, because overthinking it will make you realise that you can't ground this into the reality we... Into the reality I know. It doesn't make sense, but it's no less true for that. So you distract and annoy and dance around the subject and confuse us, but at the same time you're prodding us towards the starting line all the same. Because that's where I'm at now, isn't it? The very beginning of it all?"

"See, if I could just invade the mind of all my prospective students like that and have a proper heart to heart, it'd make my life so much easier! And putting up with me knowing your every secret is a pretty small price to pay in exchange I reckon."
She wasn't sure if she agreed with that.
He turned towards her, suddenly looking and feeling incredibly thoughtful, as if he was pondering a difficult question. "Do you really think I have a sweet ass?" he asked.

She felt oh so glad when she managed to smack him both mentally and physically at the same time.







She massaged her hand while glaring at him. He was grinning broadly at her. Damn it, what the hell was he made of? He hadn't even turned his head when she had hit him. The worst of it all was that she now knew damn well why he was being such an utter and total bastard. Because it worked. She understood that now. Wielding your mind and your spirit as a tool required your consciousness to let your subconsciousness do the work, similar to how you opened a door. You merely went to open a door and your body did it. Same with this. Don't think, instruct, do. Didn't make his smug grin any more tolerable really.

"You're getting the hang of it, aren't you?"
She stuck her tongue out at him. For some reason the more time she spent with him, the less she began to care about decorum and the more common sense seemed to be thrown out of the window in favour of just being able to deal with him. Which honestly did explain why Evon had seemed so utterly mad without being insane. Perhaps it wasn't a consequence of learning how to wield your spirit, but more a result of having spent too much time around the teacher.


The steam was slowly returning to it's normal, impenetrable state after that he had stirred it up, but at the moment it was enough to vaguely see him standing there. Not all of him, thank the Lord, because seeing that would've tossed her mind into turmoil again. She saw enough, however, to see him sit down on an elevated platform in the water and both saw and felt him gesture for her to do the same. She obliged, wary of any tricks he might be up to now. It took her a few moments before she'd find another platform. The moment she sat down he started.
"Right then. Time for us to discuss the next part of it all. Your destiny as I called it earlier, which honestly is a lot of grandstanding. It means that we're going to see what direction you want to take your life from here on out, what subjects you want to study and which skills you'd like to master. So really, speak your mind. I'll try and keep inappropriate jokes and madness induced rants to a minimum."

She sighed deeply. For some reason the earlier staggering amounts of respect she had for him had waned suspiciously quickly and now she was stuck between seeing him as a teacher, a very attractive person, an even more annoying person, and probably the most dangerous and capable being she'd ever get close to. And she had to obey him too, on top of everything else.
"What choices do I have? I don't know a lot about the world. I was a peasant girl and the only knowledge I ever gained was while I studied here or what the people that owned me gossiped about while in bed."
"How about we start with what you want to do?"
"Honestly... I wouldn't mind staying here. I like it here. It's safe and comfortable and—"
"Blood and vomit!" he cursed. She nearly fell off the elevation in shock. "You listen up now, you're one of the very few people out in the world that has the talent to actually learn how to bloody wield your mind! Do you know how rare that red-damned talent is? And you'd waste it while sitting here and not doing anything? You're not going to get any-bleeding-thing done that way! By the Flows! You're never going to be more than an unblooded welp if that's your take on life!"

He slid off the platform and started walking around her, hidden by the fog. His sudden outburst had taken her off-guard. He seemed sincere for a change and there was a determination to his tred that wasn't there before. His sudden change in language was strange as well. She'd have thought more about it hadn't he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly pulled her up. Her feet were dangling beneath her, her toes barely touching the platform.
"Since you have absolutely no idea and are far too much of a damnable anaemic to stand up for yourself, I'll give you a few ideas. You like the idea of taking revenge on those who wronged you, right?"
She nearly responded. Something in the back of her mind told her to wait. She thought about it. It was an old dream of her, that was true, but to take vengeance on nobles? She wasn't like her teacher, she lacked the ability. Physically, mentally, financially... It had been a dream the same way slaves sometimes dreamed of freedom. Unless he meant he was going to help her with it.
"Will you—"
He shushed her by placing a finger on her lips. She felt a sudden desire to lick it and cursed inwardly at the thought. Damn this steam! She quickly retreated most of her consciousness back into her fragments, severing the majority of her connections to her body, leaving just enough to remain aware but not much more than that.
"Don't think of the how. Think of the if. Does the idea seem interesting to you?"
She nodded. Slowly at first, but more vigorously as memories started flooding her. She'd sacrifice everything to get back at them and make them pay.
"Good. Let's take that as a base. Now let's move on to the how. You're not physically strong, and the time it will take you to wield your spirit well enough to actually strike them and surviving would mean they'd have all died from old age before you'd have a shot at them. So, we'll use other means instead. Intrigue. Cunning. Politics. Playing them out against one another."
She mulled it over. It was, without a doubt, an attractive prospect. She could not fathom how she would take on such a task though. "How then? You might as well be speaking in tongues to me. I'm a farm girl. I know nothing of their world."
"Oh yes you do." He smiled at her in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
"What do you — No! No no no no no!" she screamed, trying to back away from him, which was fairly useless given that he was still holding her by the shoulders.
"Stop. Sit. Think," he ordered her, letting go of her after she ceased her struggle. She was surprised to feel herself obey. "Do you honestly think I'm asking you to go back there, lift your skirt and let them have their way with you? Please, that'd solve nothing except that they'd have fun. No, I'm talking about seduction. Dress up as a noblewoman. Flirt a bit with them. Use that body of yours as a weapon against them. Lure them into your web like a spider, make them hunger for you, dream of you, long for you until they start thinking solely with the wrong head. Make them buy you pretty things that are so hideously expensive they'll ruin themselves just to win your favour. Establish alliances with others so that when you publicly disgrace one of them, they'll all come running to protect your honour and maybe have you graciously take the arm they'll generously offer."

He was pacing again as he lectured. She sat there and thought about what he said, but he was far from done.
"If I were you, I'd start by learning a merchant trade. I can easily outfit you with the materials required to start a trade caravan. I'll give you a letter for the guilds in Lannas when the time comes. They'll procure the basic products and an armed escort for you, as well as letters of introduction from other nobles. I'd suggest trading in small, but valuable products. Jewelry or something of the sort. Magical items as well, those things always sell for a fortune and there are very few people that can produce them. That will be your cover to get in. Add in a few herbal products that are rumoured to heal various ailments and stimulate certain functions and you'll practically have a paved route to get near your targets. Then, wearing the right clothes and using a few choice words, you'll have them wrapped around your finger in no time. Psychological warfare is a dangerous thing, and by that time you'll have figured out the basics of how to wield your mind."

He paused and turned to face her. She knew she must have looked childish with her mouth wide open, but she couldn't help herself. The way he summarised it all made her question once again just who she was dealing with and how long he had been planning this. If it hadn't been for her three fragments running parallel to one another, she'd have just sit there dumbfounded and utterly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information and possibilities being thrown her way.

"Of course, there are other ways. You could try the merchant trade and use your looks to gain an advantage and slowly climb the ranks, eventually growing large enough until you can institute a trade embargo, but that's significantly slower, much less effective and will cause a lot more collateral damage. You could try becoming an informant of others. Believe it or not, there are nobles who would see your looks as an asset to be used outside of the bedchamber as well, and they'd pay a pretty penny to have you work for them. They would work as your shield as well, even more so if you know a few secrets of them as well. Lastly, you could go the bandit queen role, but that might require a bit more of a hands on approach and I don't think you'd be to keen on that. Of course, if you want a completely different route then you could—"
"Stop! No more! Please!" she begged. Her head felt as if it would burst and she couldn't take in any more. This was her life he was talking about and she could see all the possible roads into the future flashing by at a far too quick pace as it was. "Please. Let me think. Please?" The words were barely audible, her voice little more than a whine.

She was met with silence, but was glad for it. She let her thoughts roam freely, thinking it all through. This was the first time in her young life that she had been given the chance to decide what she'd do from here on out and she wanted to make the right decision for a change.
"If I don't want to do that, what then?" she asked, her voice soft and unsure.
"Then you can do something else. Honestly, as long as you don't waste it doing nothing, I'm fine with any direction you want to take. It's better if you pick something you are interested in though. Ability matters less in these things. Determination and perspective beat it by far."
He moved till he was behind her and gently pulled her back, until her back was laying against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair in an innocent, tender manner. "Even if you decide you just want to learn a simple trade while training your mind. You're free to do that, you know? There's no pressure."

She nodded and let herself lean against him. Her mind and body safely separated from one another through her mental barriers, his touch hardly reached her and the few parts of it that did were pleasant without being overbearing or distracting. Letting her mind wander she thought about it all. There were many paths she could take, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Peace and safety spoke volumes to her. She wasn't really familiar with it, but knew that if she took that path then she would be safe from nobles and from twats like Feng. Part of her found that a waste, however. She had abilities. It would be a shame if she didn't make use of them, as her teacher had pointed out. There were risks involved with chasing after vengeance, but the rewards would be so much greater. What had he said again? Becoming a merchant? It would, after she finished the task of taking care of her captors, give her great freedom. Freedom and wealth, power even.

She did not know how long she lay there, supported by him, surrounded by pleasantly warm water and intoxicating steam. At one point she probably fell asleep, but if she had then he had shown no sign of it. He had been silent, patient, stroking her hair throughout it all. Slowly but surely she started making a decision, but before she'd choose she wanted a few questions of her own answered. She didn't open her eyes. It wasn't necessary and she could feel where he was anyway.
"Why do you do this?"
His fingers changed direction. They slowly slid through her hair until they found that sensitive spot behind her ears. When he started to rub it softly, she practically melted in his hands.
"It's a hobby. A pleasant distraction."
"Must... be more to it... than that..." she moaned. Lord, it wasn't fair to do that to her while she was trying to think. It wasn't fair. How could anyone be so damnably good with their hands? She shuddered when she realised that her mental barriers were still up and for one fearful moment she struggled with the urge to drop them, to feel his touch properly. Luckily enough for her she never had the chance as he moved his fingers back to her hair.
When no answer came to her remark, she slowly began to realise he didn't want to elaborate on it. Which was fair, given that the entire trade was already heavily weighed in her favour. A bit too much, really. It made her suspicious.

"Will it be with a loan contract or something, that you'll give me what I need to start as a merchant?"
"No, it's a gift. The only thing you might have to do from time to time is buy some items I might need. I'll pay for those though."
"You know that doesn't make any sense, right?"
"Not for you perhaps. You've decided then, I take it?"
"Are you still in my head?" she asked, wondering how he knew.
"Not since you smacked me."
"I'm not sorry about that."
"Yes you are. You hurt your hand."
Okay, this was creepy. "Are you sure you're not in my head anymore?"
"You're fairly easy to read."
"If I choose to become a merchant and go after them, I'll need a lot, you know? Wares, clothes, a caravan, money..."
"You'll have that, don't you worry."
"Do you actually have that type of clothes laying around?" she asked. She wasn't talking about merchants clothes either.
"You mean seductive clothes that show of your body? Outline your curves, bring attention to your breasts and highlight your assets?"
She blushed. Blunt bastard. "Yes," she muttered. "Those."
"No, but I can make them. I make a lot of things. I'll just need to take your measurements really."
Her blush got significantly worse at that but he talked straight over it. "You'll even get to decide what material, what colour. Honestly depending on what type of events you'll attend you'll need different outfits. The dances you'll partake in will dictate how the cloth will need to sway around you, and depending on how you want to seduce others, the material will matter greatly."
Her voice was barely more than a peep now, unbidden thoughts slowly eroding the barriers between her mind and body, even though two parts of her mind were fully focused on keeping them up. "But I don't know anything about dances or seduction. I'm just a peasant girl," she protested.

"Don't worry," came his confidence voice.
"I'll personally teach you so you'll master it."
And just like that, her barriers shattered.

"Thank you," said the Orc before throwing the hooded man a small coin.
"No probs pal." The man held up the coin, letting what little sunshine that permeated the dark alley fall on it before tossing it back.
"'Sides, you don't have to pay. Nobody does. Not when a comes to 'em—" he spat on the ground "—fanatics. All information on them is free. 'Sides, you 'elped me lad the o'r day. Was in the brawl y'r was in. We want 'em gone. Not have 'em findin' excuses to kill us."
Daenan nodded, but threw the coin back at the man.
"I hear you, but keep it."
Before the man could protest any further the large Orc had already walked away, leaving the confused man behind.

"That's the fourth one so far that's refused payment," Faen commented, flying out of a shadow and landing on his friend's shoulder.
"Aye. By my honour, it's worrisome. When the rats refuse money, you can be certain something's off."
"I've been flying about as well. Listening here and there. The entire district is preparing for war."
That gave the Orc pause.
"Are you certain, Faen? They aren't fighters. They're small time criminals with perhaps one or two proper gang mixed into it."
The Faerie shrugged.
"They always had their weird honour amongst thieves here. Apparently that's what uniting them at the moment. I don't know what has driven them to this point so far, and I think finding that out will not be easy."
"No, I suppose not."
"And before you ask, no, you're not going to beat it out of someone," sighed Faen.
"I wasn't—"
"And neither are you going to break into a place where they're meeting!" the Faerie yelled, cutting his friend off before he could voice it.
"Hmph. I was actually thinking of sneaking into one," countered Daenan, earning a raised eyebrow from his smaller companion.
"With your weight? In those shoddy buildings? Daenan, come on, if you're trying to deny my accusations, at least come up with something plausible," Faen said with a smirk, causing Daenan to sigh and shake his head warily. It had been a stupid excuse and he knew it the moment he had voiced it, which had been a moment too late.

"So what do we know so far?" asked Daenan. He wasn't stupid, but his friend was far more calculating than he ever could hope to be. They supplemented each other's weaknesses and he wasn't afraid to admit that his friend was the better plan maker.
"The rats and the entire district is subtly prepping themselves. Should the Flame attack, there will be barricades everywhere and bows and crossbows will be handed out by the hundreds. They may lack the training, but they are with a lot more and they have the home field advantage. However, the Flame is aggressively recruiting. Press gangs and the like."
"That should lead to quite the unstable army. Press-ganged civilians don't make for good recruits," commented Daenan.
"Normally I'd agree with you, but for some reason they come out of the Flame's headquarters with a surprising amount of zeal and a terrifying amount loyalty to the occupiers."
"That... is worrying. They must have one hell of a master if he can inspire them to that degree," the Orc said, a hint of admiration crawling into his voice.
"No, I fear that this isn't just a matter of them having a good speaker. I'd like to move closer to the town square. I want to take a look at these people that come out."
"Us? A Faerie and an Orc?"
"Well, I can hide within your armour, can't I? And you should be able to get quite close given that you have deceived them by claiming to be a Paladin with a tragic backstory," he said, smiling, causing Daenan to roll his eyes and groan.




Despite his grumbling and his general dislike of having his very small, very squishy friend hide within the tight confines of his armour, Daenan had quickly run out of arguments to present against Faen's suggestion and had been forced to give in. So it was that the Orc and the Faerie were doing what could, if one were inclined to a rather impressive amount of exaggeration, be called a stake-out. As it was, Daenan played the role of tired, intimidating mercenary sitting in a tavern that managed to be simultaneously respectable and seedy. He played it rather well and people left him alone. He would have liked to credit it to his stature. He was tall, armoured from his top to his toes and carrying sizeable arms to boot. His posture revealed his massive muscles that bulged underneath the plates he wore and his helmet was tightly conjoined with the rest of his equipment. Faen, however, would later point out that what scared people the most was him being all that while sipping an ale through a straw, given how he didn't have the liberty of taking his helmet off.

Faen remained remarkably quiet despite his ignoble position. The small creature's wings were pressed tightly against his body and he was caught between armour plates on one end and a sweltering, hairy chest that poked over a thick, leather vest. His only solace was that he could at least breath fairly easily, his head poking out, hidden from sight by the thick, dark coat that Daenan had wrapped around himself. He was glad for it, even if it added to the already sickening heat. For once though, he suppressed his feelings. The aura he could feel emanating from the city hall was disturbing him. He could not feel it properly and while he wasn't an expert on the matter, he could sense that something was very, very wrong. That feeling spiked when a group of new recruits was shoved into the building. He peeked at them from his hiding place and saw them being herded through the main entrance by professional looking soldiers sporting proper chain mail, spears and shields. You could accuse the fanatics from aplenty, but they were both well armed and trained and the entire event happened with a minimal of fuzz.

The small Faerie felt the aura maintain it's strong presence for nearly an hour, before it fell back to it's earlier levels. Soon after that the group exited again. The people that had been forcefully brought inside now had a dazed look of zealous adoration on their faces. They were eagerly talking with the soldiers that accompanied them and those soldiers looked perfectly at ease, no longer standing at guard. Faen shook his head in disbelief.
Petals and blossoms, what could have happened in there? he thought. He was about to voice his worry to his companion when he could feel the Orc's muscles tighten.
"There are more spies here," he whispered into his mug, his voice barely audible.
Faen blinked. Of course there'd be spies here. There would be plenty of rats spying on the city hall. That shouldn't come as a surprise. So why did Daenan mention that?
Unless... he thought, his face turning grim as realisation dawned on him, he means there are other spies here. Professional spies. Now that he thought about it, the Orc would have kept quiet unless it was serious. He tried to look around to see the people Daenan was talking about, but from his hiding spot he couldn't see anyone else.

Then the Orc vaulted up, roughly throwing his drink to the ground and nearly crushing Faen in the process.
"Hey! You!" the green giant yelled, his voice slurred. He pointed his armoured hand towards a man who was just getting up, knocking his mug over as he did. The man froze.
"Yeah, you! I remember you! You owe me money!"
Faen wasn't sure whether to admire Daenan's direct and ballsy approach or to hate him for his lack of subtletly. Regardless of how he felt about it, the result was the same. The man did what any sane man would do when confronted with an armoured, drunk giant demanding money from him. It happened to be the same thing a spy would do when he was caught. The guy ran.

Daenan vaulted over the table and gave chase, moving rather clumsily to keep Faen from being flattened by the armour. The man ran into an alley and disappeared from sight, but the Orc could smell the man's fear with ease. He grinned, crossed the corner and paused briefly to let Faen slip out, giving the man an even greater advantage.
"See you at the back of the inn," he told his smaller friend as he refitted his armour, before sprinting after his target. Faen shook his head warily as he watched him go. It would give them information, sure, but what would be the price?

The Orc found his path hindered by a small stall and grinned as he easily cleared it, to the dismay of the seller who screamed in panic as well over two hundred pounds of armoured Orc flew over his head. Daenan ignored the angry shouts and focused on the scent of his pursuer. It wasn't easy to pick it out amidst the several dozen scents that were home to the back alleys and he definitely could do without the smell of extrement that hung in the air, but he made do. The man had perhaps half a minute of headway on him and he knew the distance was closing rapidly. Easily weaving between or vaulting over minor hindrances, he laughed out loud as excitement grabbed hold of him.

Daenan relished the chase. With every step he could feel his target's stench become clearer. Heavy thuds alarmed the man to his pursuer's ever closing presence and the putrid scent of fear reached his nose, causing him to bare his fangs, hidden by his helmet, in a feral grin. The Orc slowed down just enough to keep him from crashing into a building as he made a sharp turn. Sliding on the ground was quite fun, but only an idioted attempted it on unstable footing and who knew what lay hidden underneath the dirt. He was excited, but he wasn't dumb. He wouldn't let his target escape. Certainly, within mere moments he saw the man run. He was dressed quite normally, if his colour scheme was a bit darker than usual. The man made the mistake of turning around and found his pursuer hot on his heels and closing in with impossible speeds. The smell of fear intensified before the idiot, probably scared out of his mind, tripped over a loose cobblestone and crashed into the ground. Daenan was on him in an instant.

Daenan knelt down next to the trembling man and grabbed him by the collar. He knew he struck a fearsome sight, with his height, imposing armour, massive helmet. When he spoke his voice was slightly altered by his helmet, something that somehow added to the already significant intimidation factor.
"Now then, my good man. I believe we can resolve this peacefully. Unless you wish to make it hard on yourself," he said, letting his fingers tighten around the man's neck for good measure. The man squealed, but his bladder held up, despite the rancid smell of fear that he emitted. It told him he hadn't been wrong. The man was a professional. Spies weren't fighters though.
"I-I'll give you what you want! Anything!" the man screamed. Daenan shook his head, slowly, threateningly.
"Oh, but I'm not after your money," he replied with a grin he knew the man must have felt.

The change in the man was instant. The smell of fear redoubled for a brief flash, then disappeared entirely. The man's eyes went from scared to determined and he threw Daenan a murderous glare.
"For the Lord," he whispered, before closing his mouth and swallowing.
"What did you do?" asked Daenan, crushing the man's throat as he plucked him up.
"Heh," the man replied with a vicious grin. "You won't have any use of me, pawn of the Dark."
The Orc considered smacking him a few times for good measure when he suddenly went limp. Daenan laid him down and quickly checked the man's vitals and found both his pulse gone and his eyes unresponsive. Just to be sure, he poked the man in his kidneys with a dagger and when that failed to produce any result, he just stabbed it through his clothes and into his body. Still no reaction.
"Damn. Splintered spears and shattered shields, damn, damn, DAMN!" he roared, slamming his fist into the ground and cracking a cobblestone.

He got up slowly, tossing the corpse aside like a rag doll, causing it to crash into a few crates and leaving a bloody trail as it went. He'd have to talk to Faen about this. Why would the Order be sending spies towards the Flame? It was a well known fact that the fanatics respected the Order and saw themselves as a militant arm that functioned in areas where the might of the Order didn't reach. Did that mean the spy belonged to another faction? How many religious factions could field spies that were willing to kill themselves when discovered? Besides that, he knew how costly the means were that let a person kill themselves with a hidden poison capsule. They weren't cheap. Unless you had the means of production and the recipe, it was a lot cheaper to hire a small army of bodyguards and have them slaughter you on discovery. Rusted roncones and battered blades, what the hell was going on in this city?


As Daenan left, he failed to notice the fierce pair of green eyes trailing him. The woman whom the eyes belonged to maintained her shroud carefully. She knew that if she dropped it this close to the Orc, he'd spot her instantly. She was struggling to keep her fury at bay and had to violently suppress the urge to lunge at him, blades drawn. Instead, she dropped down from the rooftop she had been hiding on and walked over to the dead spy. She sighed.
"You served me well. Meva na, lys na," she whispered, closing his eyelids. She extended her shroud to cover the man as well and Ly drew upon her magic to call forth a small but intense fire that covered his corpse and rendered him to ashes in a few moments. The flames were reflected in Ly's eyes as her lips formed silent prayers, commending his brave soul to the Lord. Then, once nothing remained, she turned and climbed up on the roof, her fury slightly abated and her thoughts tumbling wildly. In truth, she could not blame Daenan. She didn't condemn him as a being of the Dark just for being an Orc and he had a right being wary, given that his life would be in danger if his race was revealed. In a way he was lucky that she was quite a progressive thinker and didn't just shove a few shafts into him from afar just because he wasn't human. Still, the loss of the spy stung her. The man had reacted the way he had been trained, but she somehow doubted it was necessary. The idea of Daenan and the Fauknir having the same goals was just laughable. No, in all likelihood had her spy been spotted by Daenan and been forced to run. The spy, in turn, had assumed that he was discovered by his targets and rather than risk being forced to give up information he had committed suicide. A brave, but wasteful action. She did not have enough spies that she could afford to lose one.

She could only pray that her call for reinforcements would be answered swiftly.




Ly slowly made her way towards the city walls. Her spies were getting her some basic information, but it would be far from enough. She needed more. So she'd have to go out to do it herself. She let her thoughts roam free as she went, her shroud covering her and her aura spread far and wide. It would warn her if anything out of the usual.
She shook her head warily as she thought about her dead spy. He had been a good, loyal man, who had never really known just who he had served. Few people knew her rank. Sure, Paladins were a known factor to the world, but the Eagle was something else altogether. Where normal Paladins relied on strength and armour and had friends and allies at their back, her and hers were far away from those luxuries. They ventured too far away from the civilised lands. Normal Paladins didn't just randomly bump into Darknessed damned Fauknirs. No, Paladins of the Eagle relied on disguises, deceit, cunning. They could draw upon their own strength as well and in general it exceeded that of a normal Paladin, who had much less magic at their disposal, but it was a last resort. They were scouts first and foremost, spies second, saboteurs thirdly, and the list went on and on and on. Being a Warrior didn't even make it in the top ten. It was a useful back-up though.
It also caused their mindset to be drastically different from the other Orders. They were the only Order that did not see the world in the black and white colour palette that dictated the rest of the Paladins' world views. Not to say they were stupid, but they were simply overly zealous. Eagles, on the other hand, often made deals with heretics and races that others would define as Evil. That did not mean she looked down on her brothers and sisters in arms. They were both tools that served the Lord. They simply had differing purposes.

She hopped on a chimney and jumped onto the city wall. She leaned on the battlements and waited, her thoughts moving onto Daenan. The Orc was a mystery to her. He acted the part of a brute too well for it to be just an act. It was a part of his being, which was no surprise given that he was an Orc. Yet beyond that simple behaviour was a refined person. He knew that he looked like a brute and used it as a tool when it suited him. That was not something that Orcs did. He was cunning and could plan and was far more intelligent than people gave him credit for. A common misconception. People often thought that you could either possess brains or brawns, but never both. To her it was clear that the green one possessed both, in spades. It was a good thing he lacked magic. She wouldn't underestimate him though. His senses were far more keen than hers and if he served a role similar to his race in the same way she was to the Order, then there was the chance he had more agents spread through-out the city as well, although she doubted that. Far more likely that a warband or something similar was camped outside of the city. There had to be more like him after all. Strong individuals were produced by a strong society after all. That worried her just as much as the Fauknir. The Fauknir was a singular threat and no matter how many followers they gathered, the Order could always counter them. They had plenty of allies that would lend them their strength and their own higher ranks would deal with the Fauknir. If thousands of Orcs of Daenan's level would suddenly show up, however, their allies would be more reluctant. If they launched an offensive, sure, they'd rush to defend the lands of the Light, but if the Orcs launched raids and strikes then…

She threw her head back and laughed. Then they'd do the exact same thing that Humans did to themselves. War and strife still existed. Their allies fought one another often enough. How ridiculous to fear for that. If a full blown invasion came to happen, the kingdoms, empires, dukedoms and every nation would take up arms in union. The Order would make it so. If not, they had really nothing to fear. Still, it would pay to be careful. Knowing more about potential enemies never hurt. Speaking of which. She hopped over the wall and fell to the ground, Her green eyes lit up as she drew on her magic to cushion her fall. Landing nimbly on her feet she gave chase to her original target. A patrol of the Flame had left the city and was heading to the forest. A perfect opportunity for her to gather more information. Her blood magic may be insignificant compared to what the Fauknir had at its disposal, but it was still damn useful.


She followed them stealthily. She had been on their trail for several hours so far and they had yet to notice her. It wasn't by a lack of trying on their part, however. Their single mage kept a steady scrying spell up, which hinted at surprisingly robust reserves. He had good control over his ability. The leader of the patrol, a swordsman, stuck close to him. A good position. Four heavily armoured crossbowmen surrounded the central pair, clearly ill at ease in the outskirts of the forest, even if they were travelling on the road. A bit beyond that small circle were eight spearmen keeping up a tight guard. Their eyes kept scanning their surroundings, both high and low. In between the spearmen and the crossbowmen were two groups of three swordsmen, each armed with a small buckler which allowed them to retain strong offensive mobility. They weren't there to defend. They functioned as the swift shock troops of the patrol. From the way they moved in unison, Ly could tell that this patrol was used to this. Making them a difficult target. Not to mention that there were four scouts armed with long daggers and undoubtedly a plethora of throwable weapons lurking around in the vicinity, each maintaining a line of sight to the main patrol and making themselves visible every few minutes. She grimaced. Jumping into a tight formation like that was difficult and she was limited in options. She couldn't just blast them all to smithereens in one go. Still. No sense in wasting time. She jumped down from the tree that she was hiding in and undid her shroud as it would hinder her in combat. She kept a magical screen up, however, to keep the mage from sensing her.

The first scout that noticed her only did so when her blade pierced his neck from behind. Her armoured gauntlet covered his mouth to prevent his last breath from making any noise. She quickly searched his corpse and found three throwing daggers. She pocketed them quickly, sliding them in empty sockets on her belt. They'd come in handy. She started circling around the party to get to the next scout and managed to take him out in the same way as the first, before the patrol took notice of the first absence. The leader called for a halt and the spearmen immediately assumed a rough schiltrom formation with the swordsmen exiting the group and forming two small islands. The crossbowmen aimed their weapons at the undergrowth while the mage's eyes lit up fiercly as he cast more spells. The scouts, noticing the noise, fell back towards the others, signaling them before leaving the shrubbery. The leader waited for a brief moment to see if the other two scouts would show up, before turning to the mage. Ly chose that moment to strike. She had re-engaged her shroud as soon as they had started to move and undid it as she ran out of the shrubbery. Two daggers in her left hand and one in her right, she threw the first at the crossbowman aiming in her direction. He reacted quickly and got a shot off just as the dagger nailed him in the eye. The bolt went wide as Ly ran at them. She moved the second dagger from her left hand to her right and tossed both simultaneously. The men were good and had been alert, and only one dagger made a clean hit, claiming another crossbowman. The other managed to dodge slightly to the side and only suffered a gaping wound in his cheek. Then she was at the first spearman, her sword still sheathed. He tried to stab her, hiding behind his shield otherwise and she jumped forward, grabbing the spear with one hand and turning it aside, before ramming him full force. The wooden shield broke under the pressure that an armoured Paladin could exert and it knocked him off balance. By the time the other spearmen got close, her sword was free and the nearest one noticed this a moment too late, Ly's blade reaching above it and cleaving through flesh and bone alike, the tip of the enchanted blade embedding itself in his forehead. She withdrew it and with an almost casual movement she backhanded the spearman charging at her with a cry. He crumbled, his face having been sliced apart. The first spearman managed to get himself together just in time to receive an armoured punch that relocated his nose into his brain.

She let out a shrill laugh and brought her sword in front of her, neatly deflecting a bolt. She let out a grin and charged the trio of swordsmen approaching her. She knew the second group would be on her in seconds so she couldn't afford a mistake. Still, she held several significant advantages. She moved to meet the first blade, held back at last second and made good use of her first advantage. She was stronger and much, much faster. She struck like a snake, thrusting her blade into the unbalanced man's face, killing him. She leaned on his falling corpse and kicked herself up, revealing her second advantage as she struck the swordsman to her right in the face, her plate shrugging off his desperate slash at her legs. Her armour was far superior. As her armoured foot crushed the man's skull, she made use of her superior agility and somehow retained her balance, landing on her free foot. As she pulled her limbs together again, she slashed at the third opponent. He moved to block with his sword, but discovered her third advantage. Her weapon was enchanted and cut through his sword as if it was made of paper. The man had just enough time to look at his broken sword and damaged shield before all life left him.

She closed in on the next two spearmen and dispatched them quickly, using their numbers against them, keeping them from surrounding her while using her superior training, equipment and senses to her advantage. The last three swordsmen reached her just as she cut through the crossbow and the man holding it. They advanced properly on her, not trying to home in on her, but as a solid battle line. She grinned wildly at them and they had a brief moment to realise something was wrong when she revealed her inhuman strength. She picked up the dying crossbowman, using only one hand and tossed him into their shield wall, shattering it. She cut them down with quick, economic movements before they could regain their balance. One scout screamed and launched herself at her, while the three remaining spearmen closed from the side. She vaguely heard the leader bark orders, but ignored them as she saw that the last scout was trying to move to her rear, daggers at the ready. She grinned at their inventiveness and admired their teamwork, but that didn't stop her from delivering a powerful kick to the scout, knocking him in the way of the bolt that the last crossbowman fired. He wasn't dead, but he was out of the picture. Then she turned to the charging spearmen and roared defiantly, meeting them head on. She made a quick sidestep at the last possible moment and felt their spears impact on her armour before sliding off, none of them getting a good hit in. Then she was in between them and between her sword and her armoured limbs she made short work of them. She took a quick step back, dodging a fireball that the mage threw at her, finally having been drawn into action. Then she turned blindingly fast, catching the dagger that the scout had thrown at her, before passing it on to the last crossbowman who was desperately trying to reload his weapon. He caught it with his left eye.

Before the mage could launch another spell or the leader could do more than take another step towards her, she had closed the distance with the scout and dispatched him with a clean thrust through his chest. Then she turned to the last two. The mage opened his mouth but fell silent when she unleashed the full pressure of her aura on him, rendering him a mumbling wreck as he fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth. That took him out of the picture. With two short strides she was in front of the leader, having sheathed her sword in the process. She parried the first blow with the back of her gauntlet, knocking the sword back, before grabbing his hand and crushing his wrist. She grabbed his skull with her second hand, ending the battle. The leader spat and cursed at her.
"Evil creature, you will never—"
"No hard feelings," she interrupted his tirade. Her green eyes flashed red as she called upon her blood magic. They would tell her everything they knew.




She dug around in their memories and did so violently. She needed information and cared little about how much pain she would inflict on them in the process. Her magic seeped into the leader's blood, into the very essence of his being. Everything about him was laid bare in front of her and her sharp mind cut into it without remorse, surgically slicing open the parts she needed. It was a frighteningly difficult magic to wield, especially for purposes like these, and it required an iron will and solid discipline. Her mind was not allowed to waver or the spell would break, or she would cause too much damage, or she would not drag up the answers she wanted. There was a time limit on it as well. The spell took a tremendous toll on the person it was used on. She had to hurry and find the information she needed.

As luck would have it, the leader had been a wick-leader of the Flame who had been serving their Patriarch for a long time. She went back in time and delved deeper into his memories. She came upon a memory of their group moving out in force. They had caught wind of someone calling himself the Lord and that village after village was swearing fealty to him. So the Flame had gathered its forces, uniting under their Patriarch, and had set out intending to bring the blasphemer to justice. They had followed the being's path, clearing village after village, encountering zealous resistance at every turn. This in turn reached the blasphemer's ears, who halted his course and returned, planning on meeting the Flame head on, to their great Delight. When the day of the battle had arrived, they had expected a short but violent battle between their well-trained forces and a rag tag band of uneducated, misguided and heretical believers, led by the blackest heretic of them all. Instead they had, as the man's memories described it, encountered a most holy being, coated in Light, who addressed them with a musical voice, full of mercy. He named them His misguided children and that while he was upset that they had killed His followers, He saw their devotion and would make use of it. Their entire army had laid down their arms, crying out for forgiveness and weeping hot tears of happiness that they were so powerfully blessed that they had met the Lord. The Patriarch and his closest officers had then met up with the Lord and what they discussed, the wick-leader had not known. Shortly after the meeting, however, the Lord departed with his small army of loyal followers, while the Patriarch and his forces would go to Tinas to secure it in advance of His arrival.

Ly could fill in the rest of the story after that. They had advanced through the forest, picked up word that a Kobold Hold was nearby and foolishly attempted to attack it. Which was an elaborate form of suicide, given that those olds were well defended. Looking in his memories she saw just how badly that assault had ended. The Kobolds had constantly ambushed them, employing their hit and run tactics to great effects, their crossbows taking a heavy toll on the foe. The magical traps were no less present and many a man had stepped onto a ward spell that had lain hidden, only to be consumed by the powerful magics that lay underneath. They had taken heavy losses before the Patriarch had called for a retreat, never even having reached the Hold. The Kobolds' attacks had dwindled as the Humans left, seemingly content with just having chased the invaders off. That did not stop the occasional bolt from claiming the life of any fanatic foolish enough to leave the group though.

After their failed attempt at besieging the Hold, the Flame had entered Tinas and had done so violently, in response to the shame they felt for having failed to quell the creatures of the Dark. They had set themselves up in the city hall and declared martial law. For a few days, that was all there was to it. They send out patrols in the countryside, locked up the gate and violently surpressed any criminal activities they found, making themselves rather unwelcome visitors to the general populace. The arrival of the Lord had changed things, however, for their godly leader had erupted in pure rage when He was informed about the losses the Kobolds had inflicted on His forced. To replenish their losses, the Flame had started sending press gangs out, rounding up civilians and granting them the honour of talking to the Lord so he could personally inform them of their new, glorious and holy duty.

'And brainwash them in their entirety,' thought Ly. The wick-leader's mind finally cracked under the violent probing  died. With a sigh of digust, she threw the corpse away. and moved onto the mage, who was still knocked out cold by her aura. When his mind told her the same tale, augmented with a few more magical details, she made up her mind. She discarded the corpse and then froze, having heard something. She sent out her aura and it soon bumped into someone walking down the road. A woman, walking with a staff, whistling as she went.

Ly moved quickly. She could take the chance and kill the newcomer, but the woman was unrelated to this entire business and while she had no qualms about killing people when they were in her way, she wasn't a murderous bastard. She served the Light after all. Instead she used her magic to shove the corpses aside and pull dirt over the puddles of blood all over the road. It was a good thing that the road wasn't paved properly and that the forest had already broken through in several places. The woman was still far enough away that the Paladin had time aplenty to do so. Then she quickly redid her illusion and formulated a proper excuse as to why a tavern wench would be out in the forest. She sent a quick spell into the shrubbery and made herself a basket. Lord be praised, but magic was a useful thing. By the time she finished putting some herbs and berries into her basket the woman came into view. Ly was busy kneeling in the shrubbery as she waited for the woman to come close enough that she could pretend to have heard her.

The staff Sanguilia was walking with thumped softly on the ground as she walked. She concealed a soft smile at the other woman sitting on her knees and pulling out herbs so common that any self-respecting forager would label them weeds. The woman pretended to finally notice her and got to her feet, showing so many discrepancies between the actions of her actual body and the illusion that it was a mystery to her why the woman kept up the illusion in the first place. Honestly, the woman's sense of balance was completely off. Still, it made for an interesting sight. Her greatest infatuation and weakness; things she didn't know. She waved at the woman, knowing she looked every bit the guide that she was at the moment. Her green and brown leather outfit moved without making a sound, fitting her body, honed by spending most of her lifetime in rigorous training and outside, snugly, without being too tight. Her long, brown hair was tied in a long tail that dangled behind her while her gloves-covered hands grasped a solid quarterstaff, reinforced with metal bands both on the top and at the bottom finished her look. The only thing that looked slightly out of place with her was the overly large backpack that she was wearing. The woman's eyes widened slightly when she took note of how heavy it seemed to be and how little that seemed to trouble her. Sanguilia bit back a grin and gave a smile instead. The woman was paying close attention to details a tavern wench wasn't supposed to notice.

"Hello there!" she greeted the other. "What brings you out on the road today?"
Ly gave a friendly, harmless smile back. She recognised the other woman as a guide. It made sense given that she was travelling alone. Guides were a faction of their own, widely respected at the borderlands for knowing the paths and being able to guide travellers and Merchants past all the danger that lurked in the forest. More zealous followers of the Lord claimed they consorted with Evil, but the Order of the Eagle understood them better. To survive in those areas, you could not blindly wage war on any creature you encountered. The Paladin, acting the role of tavern wench once more, got up, swatted the green off her skirt and lifted up the basket.
"Gathering some herbs and the like. Seemed like a nice enough day for it."
"It is a lovely day," the guide agreed. "But your choice of herbs is a bit... well, most of those you can find alongside the city walls, if you don't mind me saying. Who-ever sent you out here has sent you on a bit of a fools errand."
"Oh," Ly responded, deflating, her smile faltering.
"Not to worry. I have herbs aplenty in my backpack. I'm sure we could strike a deal that suits the both of us. Name's Sanguilia. I'm a guide, as my clothes might tell you." She offered the woman her hand and Ly clasped it with a warm smile.
Ly perked up at that.
"A guide! How exciting! I've never met a guide before!" A lie, but a plausible one. Her illusion made her seem like a young woman, barely into her twenties and guides were a bit of an exotic rarity in cities, given their tendency to stay in the wilderness.
Sanguilia's eyes lit up at the excitement that Ly conveyed. Good. The woman clearly thought her simple and that she could strike a profitable deal.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sanguilia. I'm Lianne. I work at Roasted Boar in Tinas. I'm afraid I don't have much in the ways of currency though," she said, pouting, then smiled again as an idea struck her. "Maybe you'd be interested in exchanging some herbs for free board?"
Sanguilia nodded amicably. "Seems like just the thing," she agreed, joining up with her as the two woman started walking towards the city, exchanging herbs as they went.




Sanguilia knew the woman thought her fooled, but that a certain level of wariness remained and wondered what she was. She was a professional, of sorts, which was a rarity out here in the borderlands. It delighted her to no end. Something she didn't know and couldn't properly guess at. Probably belonging to a group she wasn't familiar with. Then there was the presence that loomed over the entire city, that dominated every other presence and cloaked them from her sight. She had an inkling as to what it might be as it felt familiar, but as with every powerful presence it threw off her sight too much to be able to properly analyse it. How mysterious. How delightful. There clearly was something going on in that city. The woman that was walking next to her reeked of blood as well. Fresh kills and the remnant of a type of magic her master would kill the woman for. Oh well. He wasn't here. She was, and she was curious.
"Sanguilia's a pretty name," Lianne, carrying a name that reeked of lies, said. "But it sounds so foreign. Are you from around here?"
"No, I don't know where I'm from really. But you're right, it's a very pretty name," she replied, barely keeping a manic grin of her face. Her master had named her. She knew what it meant and took pride in it.
"Oh? That's strange. Didn't your parents tell you where you were born?"
"I don't even remember my parents. I was captured by slaves at a young age and then other stuff happened, and now here I am," she said cheerily.
"Oh," said the tavern wench dejectedly, clearly put down by the image of such a ghastly fate.
Sanguilia shrugged, as if it didn't matter. After all, she had yet to learn how to travel the Flows back then.
"So what's the latest in the city?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, you won't like it much. There's a new power in play, a group of fanatics who follow the Lord and—"
"The Lord? I thought Tinas was ruled by a council?" she interrupted.
"I... You don't know the Lord?" stammered a flabberghasted Lianne. The surprise on her face genuine.
Another shrug.
"I've heard people say that from time to time, but I never really thought much about it. Isn't he a regional landlord or something?"
"Heavens above, no!" shouted Lianne. "He's God! Our Lord! The one who watches from above and shelters us all from Evil and the ever encroaching Darkness!"
"Seems like a load of crap to me," she muttered, mockingly, causing Lianna to gasp loudly.
"You— You can't say that! It's heresy!"
Sanguilia paused and gave the woman a disgusted look.
"I left my trade caravan a handful of days ago. Their leader refused to listen to my advice and steered the entire group past a nest of Wyverns. What you lot often attribute to 'evil' and 'darkness' is nothing more than Human stupidity. Lord, by the Flows, what a retarded notion."

Ly held back the urge to smack the woman. Playing innocent was all good and well, but hearing someone insult everything she stood for so matter-of-factly infuriated her beyond measure.
"You're mistaken. And mad. And if the Flame hears you they'll cut off your head and put it on a pike outside the gate. And mine too, just because I was next to you when you said it."
This time it was Sanguilia's turn to react surprised. She hissed threateningly.
"They'd assault a guide?" she asked, clearly horrified by the idea. Guides were the lifeblood of the borderlands. The idea of people assaulting them was nothing short of madness. Guides, while not a guild, worked together. If they heard of an incident where one of their number was attacked, that city would find itself without their help. Caravans going to and from the offending city would have to venture forth on their own, making their travels much more dangerous. Usually such incidents were resolved within hours, with city officials brutally executing the offenders. Cities would fall to ruins in the borderlands if guides refused their services.
She spat on the ground, the emotions on her face making way for raw disgust.
"Bastards. The lot of them. If they're typical for the rats that follow that damned Lord, then the entire group is better of turning to dust rather than remaining amongst the living."
Ly, who had to pretend being a tavern wench, nearly dropped her illusion in raw surprise when the woman started going off on an impressive streak in perfect Kobold. Instead, she covered her hand with her mouth while she waited for the woman to finish her long list of expletives.
Sanguilia blinked when she finally ran out of words to insult them with, realising she had switched languages. 'Oops', she thought to herself. Her temper had gotten the better of her.
"Sorry about that," she said, blushing slightly. "I sometimes switch languages. Didn't mean to."
"That's alright," whispered Lianne. Ly's mind was racing. Guides were strange creatures and this one was no exception.
"Uhm, earlier you mentioned the Flows. What are those?" asked Lianne, demurely.
"Oh. That," came the curt response as Sanguilia gathered herself again. The guide gesture around her. "It refers to the Flows of Life itself."
'Ah. A pagan,' thought Ly with no small amount of satisfaction.
"Don't let the fanatics here you say that." She gave a weak, frightened smile.
"I better not show them what's in my backpack either then, given how I traded with the Kobolds before coming here," she said with a huff.
That set off alarm bells in Ly's head. Kobolds were notoriously xenophobic. They hated interacting with humans. It would explain why she was fluent in their language, but to be able to enter their Hold while they were preparing for war? Rather than voice accusations of Consortation with Creatures of the Dark, she decided to play the role of innocent, stupid civilian and gasped.
"You've met Kobolds? I heard they were Evil though! That they hated Humans?" she squealed.
"What? No! They like pranks, but they're not evil. They don't hate Humans either, they just like being left alone. Really, this entire line of thinking is why the borderlands are constantly at war in the first place!" she said, her tone that of a stern, tired lecturer. That amused Ly. The woman had no idea she was dealing with someone many times her age. Deciding to steer the conversation to safer grounds, she asked the age old question of how the weather had been, which elicited a surprisingly enthusiastic response out of the guide as she started talking in detail about the powerful storm that had ravaged the region a few days prior. Chatting amicably, dangerous subjects left untread, the two made their way back to the city. Ly found the guide, despite her strange and heretical beliefs and notions to be good company and began looking forward to the moment the guide and Daenan met one another. It would prove entertaining, no doubt.

Then she spotted a small patrol of soldiers of the Flame heading her way and she remembered the heretical items in the guide's backpack and she paled a fair bit. This couldn't possibly end well.




The three men that intercepted the two of them were clearly of a different level than the larger unit she had defeated in the forest. They were more at ease, less wary and only lightly armed. It was clear they were more a policing unit than an actual combat force. More there to, depending on who's point of view you looked from, intimidate or reassure the civilian populace. They greeted them with a friendly nod, for they recognised the outfit and sturdy tread of a guide.
"May you walk in the Light, guide. How were your travels?"
Sanguilia smiled in return, bowing slightly in.
"My travels were eventful. How were yours?"
The man gave a sad shrug.
"A bit too eventful I'm afraid. We lost many to the Kobolds in the forest."
"So I heard. A shame you went to war with them. They're usually quite friendly."
Ly paled. Tremendously so. The patrol guard blinked slowly, unsure if he heard right.
"Anyway," Sanguilia continued, seemingly oblivious. "Can you imagine what this poor girl here was sent out to get?" She pulled Ly closer and lifted her basket up.
"These things can barely be called herbs! They're hardly a step above weed! I reckon she was sent out so the tavern owner could do some things he doesn't want her to see, now—"
"I must beg pardon, miss, but did you meet up with the Kobolds?" interrupted the patrol guard.
"I bumped into one of their patrols, yes. They tend to not bother guides. They know better," Sanguilia said, a hard note creeping in her voice and Ly realised she had misjudged the woman. She hadn't mentioned them by accident. She was directly challenging them.
"I'm afraid we must take you with us then, to our superior. We would appreciate it you cooperated with us, miss," the guard said, his voice tightening.
"Oh," Sanguilia replied, the wood of her staff creaking as she applied pressure to it. "You should be afraid if you try to take me with you." Her voice was ice cold while her eyes were aflame. She stared so viciously at the trio that they all took a step back.
"Let me be clear. I am a guide. I go where I will and stand where I please. If you half-wits think I will comply in any form or way to be taken in bloody custody then you'll have to drag my corpse along and you can be damned sure that no guide will ever help you or any of you Flows-damned Lord-lovers ever again!"

Ly flinched at hearing that. The woman had a temper beyond measure but given how tight-nit the guides were, there was a chance that they would actually follow it through for a good while. Regardless what would happen, Sanguilia could not be allowed to make good on that threat. There were many believers in the borderlands and the guides were essential to the survival of the cities in that region. If they had still been in the forest, she'd have taken her out immediately. With them being out in the open, within range of the city walls, that was now impossible.
The three patrol guards recoiled as if she had hit them, however.
"Yes guide! We won't bother you again! Excuse us!" the leader said, saluting her quickly and all but running from her. Sanguilia growled at them as they left. Ly hid her shock well. The woman's aura had all but swirled around her in a thunderous storm, filled with rage. Little wonder the poor trio had fled as quickly as they did. An untrained and undisciplined mind simply couldn't withstand such pressure. It also spoke volumes about the guide's mental fortitude.

Ly followed Sanguilia as the guide resumed her trek to the walls whilst muttering unkind and angry things under her breath.
"You're mad," she whispered. "You'd threaten all of the people in the borderlands just because they offended you."
"Wrong on all accounts!" came the gleeful answer, the guide's mood changing in the blink of an eye. The woman turned around and kept on walking backwards, eyes fixed on Ly.
"My threat was empty to start with, but it carries enough clout to scare them out of their wits. We work together with everyone," she explained, underlining the word with a sharp cutting movement. "We're not going to screw over an entire civilisation because of a few idiots. If they actually tried apprehending me and I'd have to make good on it, then the guides would talk it over with the leadership of these twats, as well as the council of the city, which would see it swiftly resolved and the offending party fined or exiled. And they didn't offend me. They tried to take away my freedom. Nobody does that. Not to a guide and certainly not to me."

She turned around again, considering the topic closed. Ly shook her head warily. This woman was mad. Stark and raving mad. Even for a guide, who were known for being eccentric. This was just great. An Orc who belonged to a civilisation that was on par with that of Men, a Fauknir, a rogue fanatic order, a Kobold hold with a grudge outside the city walls, a criminal element that was arming up, a city on the verge of civil war and now there was a damned guide that hated everything religious with a passion and was a complete nutjob besides. Sure, she hadn't signed up for a boring life but Lord above, this was too much of a good thing.
She suppressed a sigh and thought about it. All she really had to do was hold out until reinforcements would arrive. She had sent out the message with her rank hidden on it. The Order would send an army to Tinas. It was an ugly solution, but an effective one. And quite probably the only one remaining.




To Ly's surprise they managed to pass through the gate, manned by the city's own guards, without further incident. Sanguilia had stopped to chat with them and had done so in hushed tones. The guards were annoyingly respectful to the guide. Ly had tried to eavesdrop on the conversation but with all the people milling about she hadn't succeeded. She had considered resorting to magic, but had decided against it, deeming it not important enough. She had left the guards alone soon enough, giving them a friendly handshake before joining Ly again. The guide walked through the city with ease, stopping frequently to chat with people, greeting them warmly, shaking hands, giving out hugs or clapping men on their shoulders with enough force to make them stumble. It was clear that the woman knew the city well and many of the city's inhabitants knew her. She kept listening in on the conversations as much as she could but found nothing strange of it. Just a guide asking for the latest city gossip. All too soon they reached the inn and Sanguilia once again proved preference for being direct by kicking open the door and shouting for some ale to force the dust of the road down. The innkeeper, recognising her for what she was instantly, almost tripped over his own legs in order to serve her. Ly raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. Clearly she had underestimated just how important guides were.

"Marcus!" she suddenly shouted, easily jumping over a table and rushing a tiny man, who got to his feet in a panic just in time to be tackled to the ground by the guide. "My favourite little man! How are you doing!"
"Oh! Sanguilia!" replied the merchant, showing relief that his assailant wasn't out to harm him, or worse, rob him of his meal. He took her offered hand and was pulled to his feet with ease. "Looking as youthful as ever. How are you girl? Weren't you tracking about with Rumbas up east a way?" He gestured for her to take a seat and waved at Ly to bring more food. The Paladin rolled her eyes and set to her task, subtly listening in on the conversation.
"Rumbas? Not anymore," she sighed. "Poor fellow died. Loading crane broke while one of his men was underneath it. He managed to push the man to safety, but was crushed in turn." She raised her mug. "To his memory and that of his caravan!" she stated, tapping Marcus' mug with her own.
"Wait, his caravan? What happened to that?"
"Rumbar took over. He... Ignored my advice. The caravan was withering for roughly a year and I toughed it out with the bastard, honouring his father's memory in a way, bless the good man, but at the end he completely disregarded what I told him to and took a road into Wyvern territory. The storm kept them away while it lasted, but he and I had a final falling out and I left him. I reckon they're all dead now."
She didn't mention that she had killed him herself and left the others to die just to close that chapter of her life, but the merchant had no need to know that.
"What about you? You wouldn't happen to be in need of a guide while going westwards, would you? I've got a few things to sort here, but I could be available in a handful of days," she inquired.
"Don't know yet. The city's not what it used to be and I'm thinking of leaving as soon as I can manage to cover some of my costs. Direction matters less for now. I just want to be out of the city. I take it you heard the rumours?"
She nodded. "I heard some. Reckon there's more. Heard from Lianne over there that they're really going overboard. Met a couple that tried to accost me 'cause I traded with the Kobolds nearby." She spat on the floor, her face an angry scowl. "Can you imagine? Accosting a guide?"
Marcus shook his head. "Dark days for Tinas, for sure," he agreed. He was about to say more when the door was banged open and a tired looking Daenan entered the taproom, armoured from head to toe. Sanguilia's eyes homed in on the newcomer and for a brief moment a mixture of emotions flashed across the guide's face, giving Ly goosebumps.

"Oi! Tall one! You must be Marcus' bodyguard I heard so much about," she shouted, waving at him.
Daenan looked at the woman calling him. "I am," he sighed, looking weary.
"Oh wow, ain't you one depressed looking bastard? Not that I don't understand you though. No one in this city must be able to give you a good match when it comes to arm wrestling, can they?" she asked.
That piqued Daenan's interest, as random as the comment was.
He met the guide's gaze and saw a challenging grin plastered on her face. Well, if she wanted to challenge him, who was he to refuse?
"That's true, little lass," he replied, trying to get a rise out of her. She looked well off and he didn't mind earning a bit of coin on the side? "But I don't play game for free. Care to spice the game up a little? A small, friendly wager?" he suggested.
Sanguilia took a coin out of one of her innumerable pockets and slammed it down hard on the table, never taking her eyes off him. Daenan glanced at it and nearly stumbled when he saw the glitter of gold.
"Think you can match that?" she asked, her tone as challenging as his. Oh, but this was going to be good!
"Marcus, I'll need you to pay me out early!"
"Daenan, she's a guide!" he warned him while digging out a gold coin from his purse and tossing it at his guard. Marcus knew better than to underestimate her. He had known her too long for that, far longer than he had known Daenan.
"Look at the little girl!" he chided. "But hey, if she wants to donate to the poor, I'm not going to stop her." He took off his helmet theatrically and grinned at her, baring his fangs, intending to unnerve her. She met his grin with one of her own, teeth bared in turn, utterly unfazed. He sat down in front of her and presented his massive arm and Marcus had barely enough time to move his plates to a more secure location before she clasped his muscled hand with her much smaller one. Ly immediately rushed over, wondering what in the Lord's name the woman was thinking.
"Are you both ready?" she asked, grasping the combatants' hands. When they nodded she counted down.
"Three, two, one, begin!"

The handful of bar patrons that were already present in the taproom rushed over to the table upon hearing Ly shout, realising someone was challenging Daenan. There hadn't even been time for any betting to occur, but that didn't dampen their spirits. They were shouting encouragements at the woman, not really expecting her to win. She looked tough, definitely not a frail girl, but even their local champion had been beaten mercilessly by the big Orc.
Yet Sanguilia's hand remained in place as she gritted her teeth. Daenan hissed out a breath in surprise. She was strong!
Ly looked at the battle in amazement. She couldn't detect any magic nor was there the telltale pulse that magical equipment possessed. She was meeting the Orc's inhuman strength head on, using nothing but her own strength.
Daenan refused to be outdone though and gnashed his teeth in annoyance. He had been planning on going easy on the girl, to not let her lose too quickly, but that wasn't an option anymore. Slowly but steadily he started applying more and more pressure. Sanguilia met it at first, although her pained expression showed that she was struggling. Then her hand began shaking violently as he started overpowering her, pushing her hand down towards the table. He flashed her a cocky grin and she met his gaze. He was pleased to see that there was still fight left in her. Then panic bubbled forth from those deep brown eyes and she screamed.
"Birzna mi! Lesga ret!"
Let me go! You're hurting me!
His eyes widened and he loosened his grip immediately.

The entire taproom stared on in stunned silence as Daenan's hand was smashed into the table, the sound echoing across the inn. Daenan gaze flickered between his hand and Sanguilia's face, utterly dumbfounded, before it dawned on him. She had tricked him.
"Why you little bitch!" he shouted, standing up to his full, intimidating height, hand moving to his warhammer. She flashed him a smug grin, showing no fear at all in front of the Orc that towered over her.
The leather handle creaked as his grip tightened around it. He held it for several long seconds, before letting go. He dropped down onto the bench and slammed the table hard with his fist. "Hah! You cocky little shit!" he exclaimed. "That was magnificent! Playing a trick like that!" He tossed her the gold coin. "As much as I hate to admit it, you earned it." Sanguilia caught it easily, looked it over, then tossed it back.
"I don't really care about money," she said, shrugging. "I'm more interested in what an Orc like you is doing out here. Trade you the coin for your story."
"Hah! Not going to say no to that! Shields and axes, I've never been tricked like that before. You must tell me how you picked up my language though. That must make for a much more intriguing story!"
She grinned and prodded Marcus, who had ignored the entire match and had simply continued eating. He looked up, annoyed. Then he swallowed loudly and muttered "She's a guide you idiot, I warned you," before diving back into his food. Sanguilia eyed the little man curiously. That this man was such a successful merchant was an enigma to her.
"Der palde rag, der lave dag," she replied. "The road is broad and the travel long. I've picked up quite a bit of things. Rega nes ire doch," she added at the end, giving him a meaningful look.
I won't speak of it here.
He nodded. Fair enough.
"Redo mi," he grunted.
Same for me.
She grinned and called for two more ales, starting to chat about a dozen small, insignificant subjects while she waited for her food to arrive.

Ly went into the cellar to get a few more bottles and waited for the door to fall shut before sinking down onto the stairs.
Lord above, what is going on? she thought to herself. Sanguilia's trick may have fooled the patrons, but not her. The woman hadn't been using her full strength against Daenan either. A simple human, guide or not, had matched the brutish Orc in a battle of raw strength.
She had to completely amend her earlier opinion about the guide. Whatever the woman above was playing at, whatever her charade, she was a frightening creature.
It was such a damned shame that she met so many incredible people these days.
She picked up a bottle and looked at her own reflection, unfazed by the unbridled desire of bloody murder that she saw there.
Such a damned shame that they were all on the wrong side.

Sanguilia left the inn feeling thoroughly pleased with herself. The Orc owed her an interesting story, her lodgings had been arranged, for free even, thank the Flows for that, Marcus would easily be convinced to go in the same direction as she did and the tavern wench was hiding secrets of her own. Combine all that with her original goal of playing the prank of a lifetime on the city, she was having a really good day. Things did not end there, however. The Flows in this city were in disarray. There was something or someone here that was completely throwing them off. Few beings could pull that off and she knew a good amount of those who did. She could do so too, if she so desired but given that she was a reader of the Flows that would be very counterproductive. Her Master could disrupt them to the point of silence. She allowed part of her mind to wander. Given how fragmented her mind was, this was an easy task. She still went through the alleys, greeting people, giving out handshakes and hugs as she played the part of jovial guide, but her mind was focused on the Flows. Few people were aware of them. Even fewer could somewhat see them. And her Master had told her that she was only the second person he had ever met who could read them. Who could dance on them.

To understand the Flows was a complicated thing to do consciously, but very easy to do so if it came naturally to you. The Flows were basically the unspoken laws of the world and if you read them you could read the future somewhat. If they became disrupted, it simply meant that someone was nearby that was strong enough to create so many possible futures that they became unreadable. It didn't indicate it would necessarily happen, but merely that the other person had the option. It was one of the most efficient measurements to indicate how strong, influential or troublesome someone could be. Far above the laughably primitive magic trick that some mages relied on by reading an Aura or emotions. So to wander into a city where the Flows were as convoluted as they were was simply a thing she couldn't resist. She had been raised from a very young age to question everything she encountered and mysteries were ambrosia to her. She would get to the bottom of this.

She shook hands with a leather worker and placed a small order for some new straps for her backpack, pleasantly bickered and bargained with an exotics goods seller and traded some of her trinkets from the Hold and generally announced her presence to the city. There were no other Guides in Tinas at present and even though she had no intention of tagging along with a caravan just yet, she still served a role by telling traders what were the safer routes to take. Given the terse atmosphere there would be plenty of those wanting to leave the city. She navigated her way throughout, allowing her fragmented mind to listen in on every conversation around her. Her Spirit wandered freely, extending her reach. She listened and heard and grew worried. Part of the city was under the control of the fanatics and the rest was rallying more and more behind the underground gangs, who were arming themselves for when the conflict would escalate. Already certain parts had been declared off limits by either group and it wasn't too uncommon for a patrol to be ambushed at night. The crossbows that were so popular in Tinas were of Kobold make and were far easier to wield than those made by Men.  Of course this led to reprisals from the fanatics and the gallows and gibbet were well used and the executioner and undertaker were earning a pretty penny from it all. That in turn furthered the anger from the citizens, which led to more ambushes. The only thing that failed to make sense was how eager the press ganged civilians were.

If she were to take a guess at things, it meant a Fauknir was involved. It would also explain the disruption of the Flows. She smiled. Life was delightfully interesting, but now it was up to her, as the new actress waiting in the wings, to give the entire play a new push. She changed directions and headed for the clock tower, reaching it without encountering anything worthy of note. After a short dicker with the men guarding it, they allowed her access and up she went. Normally she would have scaled the tower from the outside, but she had to behave for now.
Reaching the top in short measure she made sure that nobody was around before climbing out of the window and used her nimble fingers to grab hold of the shingles, hoisting herself on top of the roof. Carefully making her way higher, checking her footing as she went, she reached the weather vane and shook it a little. Finding it sturdy enough she hopped on top of it. If anyone looked up from down below, they would be able to see a person, but she wouldn't be recognisable. Now, however, she had what she came for. A complete overview of the city and its surroundings.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Her fragments danced around in her mind as her heartbeat slowed down. She closed her eyes, drawing in on herself. Her Spirit shrank until it surrounded her, wrapping itself around her like a dark cocoon, swirling as it went. She could hear her heartbeat ring through her body, saw the Flows in all their glory and felt her essence pool in the centre of her being. Then she opened her eyes and pushed it all out.
Her brown eyes were now green, the colour of grass in the spring, as her awareness unfolded again and again, covering the entire city in a scant few heartbeats, before she pushed it even further. Within moments it reached the outskirts of the great forest of Aralbas and yet she pushed on, her Spirit dancing along the waves of the Flows. Everything was connected. Everything was one. As she was part of the World, so was the World part of she. On and on it went, faster than a galloping horse, flying further than a messenger bird. Eventually she reached the Kobold Hold and her awareness danced in between them, teasingly distracting the Shamans and gently squeezing the cheeks of the little girl she befriended. Then she left them too behind as she took more of the world in.

She was a Guide. Her Master had told her to take up this role and learn from it and though it had taken time, she had eventually understood the purpose behind this trip. Using the Flows she could extend her awareness tremendously, far beyond what she had thought possible before, without her sight dampening in clarity. The worth of a Guide had been watered down over the centuries, so she had discovered, but every individual bearing that title still improved themselves tirelessly, hoping one day to reclaim the glory of their past. Unbeknownst to all, she had succeeded. Not that Guides could read the flow, that ability was hers and hers alone, but the ability to let the Flows, even if they were hidden from your sight, carry your Spirit. She smiled warily at that. Just how her Master had known that was but one of the innumerable questions she wanted to ask him. Regardless of the hows, the whys, the whats and the whos, at the end of it all it had meant that she could now proudly call herself a Guide.

She was pulled rudely from her inner thoughts when her awareness found something most unusual and she reacted with haste. Her mind danced around the large presence, hiding itself from sight and feeling, seeking shelter in the simple minds of the creatures of the land and sky. A large army, moving with haste but not disorder. Heading towards Tinas. She did not recognise the banners they were carrying, but felt the Flows tremble around them. There were powerful people within that army, enough to touch the threads of Life itself and they were heading here. They were moving with care, magical nets woven all around them, Auras cast far and wide to catch any intruder. Their formations were clean and solid, their weaponry oiled and devoid of rust, their tabards clean but for the dust of the road. They were professional, well trained, well armed. She smirked. For an army of Men, at least. Still, their numbers and training and the very annoying fact that they were dragging siege equipment with them meant that they were a very dire threat to the city. Given that she didn't know their allegiance was another factor to consider.

She took a deep breath and pulled her mind back. It snapped back to the meagre container that was her body and as always she felt disorientated and small, the loss of such a vast awareness leaving her with an empty void and an annoying sense of loss. Her eyes slowly regained their normal brown colour as she feelings echoed away. She clambered down from the roof, her mind working and calculating. There was still time before that army would arrive, but once it did they would undoubtedly surround the city, cutting off all major routes. She didn't know their goals and they were too wary for her to try and sneak into their minds, making their goals fairly hard to guess. They probably weren't after her, given that any major events she committed had been far from here and they couldn't exactly pin them down on her anyway. Not to mention that she doubted her Master would actually let anyone trace those events anyway. He had a knack for burying history that sent shivers down her spine, most of them pleasant. She had a soft spot for the pure, unmitigated chaos and raw carnage that he could cause. There was a brutal sort of beauty in it.

She shook her head. Focus! she reprimanded herself. She grinned as a plan sprang to mind. She couldn't exactly call off the prank she had been playing and the results of that would cause plenty of chaos on their own, but she could make use of that. First she had to contact the underground elements, next she'd have to send a friendly message to the Kobold Hold. She was quite certain she could establish an alliance between the two groups...

She started singing as she made her way down the clock tower, her voice dancing between the complex, contradicting notes. She didn't remember when she had learned the song, but knew it was about war. An all-encompassing war, praised and hated, in a language so far in the past she couldn't even begin to guess why her Master had taught it her, given that he was the only one who could still speak it before he had made her reasonably fluent in it. She liked the tongue, though. It held a form of power she had yet to decipher, but it reminded her of her Master and that was cause enough to treasure it.

She'd go and chat with Daenan as well. No doubt the Orc's significant strength could be further used for her cause. The main weakness of the free element of the city was their low morale and lack of leadership after all. Kobolds, bandits, civilians, merchants and mercenaries. Civilians, fanatics, soldiers, madmen and a Fauknir. Officers, knights, warriors and quite probably a tavern wench. This would be quite the interesting showdown.




By the time Sanguilia began returning to the inn she had undergone a minor transformation. Every step she took landed with force, sending small puffs of dust up in the evening air. She was in full planning mode now and nothing would disturb her from it. A young pickpocket tried. The boy was very lucky that she had use of him, although he would never know.
"So, boy," she whispered, her eyes boring into his. The boy tried to escape her grasp as he dangled helplessly in the air. He tried to kick her but a sharp glare of her shattered any resistance he was willing to put up.
"Good, that's better now, isn't it?" she cooed, her voice poisonously sweet. "I have a task for you. Find the men who are in charge or your little underground band. Tell them I plan to meet them. Three days from now. Jol's shoe shop. I know he's an Uncle Jack. Did you understand all that?" The boy nodded seriously and Sanguilia smiled, showing just enough teeth to properly terrorise him. "Good. Now, if you forget or fail to deliver this message, I will find you and hold you responsible, okay?" she asked again, her voice still so sickeningly sweet. The boy nodded once more, delightful fear fully visible in his little eyes.
"Good," she finished, before putting the boy on the ground. She patted some of the dust of him, turned him around and gave him a gentle push. "Of you go then. Shoo," she encouraged him. The boy took a few stumbling steps, darted a look at her from over her shoulder, then ran as if his life depended on it.

A spark of insanity danced in Sanguilia's eyes.
Yes, she thought to herself. I missed these little games so much. I did as you asked, Master dear. I learned a lot, as I always do on these errands. But you took my freedom away. Limited me. Limit me even now. Oh, I so look forward to coming back home. To see you once again. Will you have missed me as well? I hope so. It would make killing you so much easier.
She turned towards her thoughts outwards and looked into the city, smiling as she saw a small patrol round the corner of an alley.
But first... To finish up here, she thought as she put on her most seductive smile and walked towards the guards.


It was quite late in the evening when Sanguilia returned to the inn, kicked open the door rather rudely and immediately went to her room. The innkeeper greeted her, but bade a hasty retreat once he saw the furious scowl on her face.
You idiot! she cursed herself. You absolute idiot! What were you thinking? Oh, let's casually seduce and murder some guards because it's fun. What the fuck is wrong with you? How many years of training do I have behind me and I still act like a bloody teenager mad with love at times. God dammit Sanguilia. Get yourself together. Muttering curses in several languages she went into her room, ran a simple thread of energy alongside her clothes, cut them off entirely and fell down onto the bed naked, screaming mutely into the pillow.

It took a good long while before she managed to gather her rampant emotions and she sat up. She looked at the window and willed it open, her Spirit following suit and making it a reality. She smiled as she recalled an old memory. A friend of her had once called her out on what he saw was a frivolent use of one of the most dangerous abilities known to mankind. Then she sighed deeply, because that friend was dead. Like nearly everyone she had met and cared about. One of them had tried to heal her wounded mind. A special being. He had thought her grievously wounded and had talked to her, hoping to mend what he believed was a fragmented creature. Not the brightest creature she had ever met, but his heart had been in the right place. Not literally given that it had three of the damn things, but it was the thought that counted. She had tried to explain it all, how her mind worked, but he had refused to listen. So he had accompanied her back, stepped in front of her Master, completely unaware of what he was dealing with. It had been a heated debate and in the end the creature had gained permission to look at her mind. At all of it. She had protested to the best of her ability and even her Master had tried to dissuade the poor thing, trying to convince him to study first. It hadn't availed either of them and so the creature had looked. He had survived for about two seconds before the sheer mess that her mental state was overrode his defences and he had begun screaming. Her Master had kept the thing's pain mercifully brief and the being felt nothing before death claimed it.

She sighed again, slowly crawling out of bed and leaning out of the window. She didn't particularly care if people were looking in her direction. No, wait, she did. Did she? By the Flows, she was losing it. She knew dealing with episodes like this was a side effect of what she had become over the years, but that didn't make dealing with it any easier. Fragment your mind, he said. It'll make things easier, he said. She thought the words with affection. She was positively mad but that didn't make his words any less true. She had been warned this would happen and she had been given permission to break off her trip if it came too much to bear. Not that she would do so, of course, because she'd rather die than admit a lack of self control in front of him.

She fell back on the bed, looking out at the starry night sky. She both hated and loved these moments. Hated them because they clouded her mind, when her countless fragments each pulled in their own direction, making their own plans and doing what they thought was best. Honestly, you'd think that they would all think the same given how they were all part of the same person. Yet, at the same time, she cherished them. Madness had a melody of its own that she was intimately familiar with and she knew that if she could break through it, maintain an ironclad control, she'd finally reach the next stage of her training. She was getting better though. The guards having survived their encounter was proof of that. She had come dangerously close to luring them into an alley and disposing them, but instead she had managed to just innocently flirt with them before disappearing into the night. If this was how her Master felt... Well it certainly would explain some of the massacres he was involved with. Another sigh escaped her lips as she moved her gaze towards the beams in the ceiling. She slowly stretched out her hand and her fingers caressed their forms.

Humans, Kobolds, Fauknirs. So many races, so many creatures. So many of them believing that they were the important beam. That they were essential. That the others that existed were weaker, worse, less significant than they were. Crusades, wars, genocides happened because people believed one way or another and throughout history everyone kept repeating it. From high to low. Empires were ground to dust because they followed the wrong god and simultaneously you had neighbours who tried to murder one another because their Carie had said something bad about our Lian. Children bickering. While they argued about which idea was the best, which belief the most righteous, which family the most holy, you had her Master and those in his care. A select group of people that understood that there were no set rules in the world. That nearly everything was subjective save for one very brutal truth.
"Might makes right," she whispered; a lesson taught a thousand times. She smiled and the tired lines were wiped from her face. She looked to the stars again. Yes, the real world wasn't about which beam supported the others. The real world was vast and impossibly huge. A vast ocean of so many people and things. The stars twinkled and she felt kinship. She and others like her, those with power made waves. Lit up the night sky. Sometimes that strength bound them in places and they could do nothing but twinkle from a set position. Others were free and travelled across the dark of night. Her smile turned to a grin. That had to be one of the most ridiculous metaphors she had concocted in a good long while. Her Master would laugh himself to tears if he'd knew.
Her Master. He who is. A walking enigma, a man who's very history and existence was a mystery that had lasted throughout the ages. She knew him better than any other and she doubted she knew him at all. By the Flows, she missed that man. Loved that man. Hated that man. That wasn't the madness talking. That was how she genuinely felt. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting silence and darkness claim her.


She waited long enough to make sure that the choir of dissenting voices inside her mind were gone, once again replaced by the soothing buzzing of a hundred voices debating simultaneously. She got up and put her clothes back on, holding them together where she had cut them off earlier. She ran the same finger alongside it, mending it. Another frivolous use of magic, but that didn't bother her. If idiots who thought like that could rule the worlds, they'd make birds walk rather than fly.
She stretched languidly and felt pleased with herself. She had survived a minor episode of madness without maiming anyone. That was good. She reached for her staff and pushed open the door. It was time to visit Daenan and have a little chat with him.




She walked through the hallway and caught sight of Lianne who was clearly heading the same direction as her. The tavern wenchl stumbled a bit at seeing her and Sanguilia waved at her.
"Don't worry, I'll just have a short chat with him. He'll be all yours in a moment."
By the Flows, could that woman blush! She turned beet-red and stumbled something that was probably supposed to be a denial, earning her a rough chuckle from the guide as she knocked on the Orc's door.
He opened the door surprisingly quickly and Sanguilia was quite amused to see the lecherous grin on his face turn into embarrassment as he realised the woman in front of him was not the one he expected.
"I'll be expecting you to tag along with me tomorrow at first light. Make sure you're ready. Bring your weapons." She felt the presence of something magical in his room, or rather the echo of it.
"Miago so." The magical one as well.
Daenan nodded mutely at her, his eyes glancing over to Lianne, who very quickly turned around and bade a hasty retreat. He turned back to Sanguilia and eyed the smaller human curiously, his green skin still showing hints of red. The guide's eyes slowly, deliberately, slid across his body, going down south.
"You know," she mused aloud, "I always thought it'd be bigger."
She turned around with a fiendish laugh and left a thoroughly stunned Orc behind.


"Hey! You're finally awake!" she greeted the Orc as he exited the tavern. He was in full get-up, covered from head to toe in plate armour, warhammer across his back and mace hanging on his hip. The cloak he was wearing wasn't something she had expected, but given that it covered a small source of magic she could easily deduce the reason. She hopped off the barrel she had been sitting on and started walking towards the gate, giving the Orc time to catch up with her.
"What's the name of your friend?" she asked, innocently enough and felt quite pleased with herself when the magical signature shivered.
Faen didn't dare look out of his hiding place, deep within the coat of his much larger friend. Faeries had a natural distortion field around them that made spotting them through magical means virtually impossible. Even the fabled Slivir'i, creatures that lived for magic, struggled to detect a faerie that did not want to be seen. How a human had been able to pierce through his cloak was a mystery to him, but it was one that frightened him to the very core. Luckily for him his green friend covered for him.
"Let's not talk about that here," came his muffled voice from underneath his helmet.
Sanguilia let out an easy laugh. "As you wish. Let's walk in boring silence then until such a time has arrived that you deem it wise to alter these tactics." She bowed and lifted her head, grinning broadly at the Orc, before sharply turning around and heading towards the gate, whistling as she went, her staff rhythmically thumping on the ground to accompany her tune.

Daenan held his tongue until they hit the outskirts of the forest of Aralbas, a place that had swallowed countless souls that dared to brave the depths of the woods without the company of a guide. He didn't think it that weird. Forests as big as this one were tricky to navigate and the presence of a Kobold Hold and their general disposition towards human were probably the main two reasons why humans who went in too deep didn't come back. He looked around to make sure nobody was near and pulled open his cloak. Faen stretched out his wings and zipped out of his hiding place, glad to be out in the open. He flew a few circles around Daenan before settling on his shoulder. He looked directly at the curious guide, who kept a respectful distance. The woman had a frown on her face, as if she recognised him. That was impossible, of course. He had never met her before.
At least I sense no hostility from her, he though.
"I'm Faen. I kindly greet you," he introduced himself, bowing elegantly from his seat. Despite his worries about her ability to perceive him so easily, he would remain polite. Even Faeries were courteous to guides. Normally, after such an introduction, the guide would return it. Sanguilia did nothing of the sort however and took a few quick steps forward until she was standing in front of him, her face a scant few inches underneath his. Her eyes were narrowed and her gaze was scrutinising him thoroughly.
"Faen..." she whispered. Then her eyes flashed open wide. "Grandson of Faëla?"
"How do you know Gran!" he blurted out in shock.
"Haha! I knew it!" she shouted. She darted back to her original spot and raised herself to her full height, before bowing gracefully, moving her left hand until her fingers laid across her right cheek.
"I am Sanguilia. I kindly greet you, Faen, Grandson of Faëla, Queen of the Phoenix Faeries. It is a pleasure and delight to find a Son of the Fae so far from the Tree."
Faen's eyes went wide and he stood up on Daenan's shoulder, who was gazing from underneath his helmet trying to make sense of it all. Faen bowed again, far more polite this time.
"Both pleasure and delight are mine. I did not expect to find a Friend of the Fae between the leaves," he replied. Then, with the greetings out of the way he threw caution to the wind and took off like lightning, narrowly coming to a halt in front of her face, wings buzzing excitedly.
"How is Gran? Have you seen her recently? You haven't seen Mom by any chance, have you?"
Sanguilia laughed, Faen's excitement proving contagious. "I haven't seen her in a long while, I'm afraid, but the last time I did see her she was in great health as always, and just as happy-go-lucky as always."

"Okay, hold on now you two, either of you care to tell me what this is about?" interrupted Daenan's gruff voice as he removed his helmet. "Because I am completely lost now."
"Simple," shrugged Sanguilia. "I know this guy's grandmother."
"And that makes you buzz around like you had a glass of brandy?"
"Well... Yes! You don't just meet Gran!"
Sanguilia rolled her eyes at the overexcited Faerie. "It's a sign I'm trustworthy. Family bonds are also very important and Faeries go slightly mad when Faëla is mentioned. She is the ruler of their small race after all. She's not 'a' grandmother. She is, quite literally, the grandmother. Mother of all Phoenix Faeries."
"And what, by my honour, are those?"
"What they are." She shrugged again. "You're an Orc. He's a Phoenix Faerie. Not much to it really." She grinned at him. "Anyway, I didn't pull you out here for that. I wanted to test you," she said, completely changing the subject and shooing Faen, who was still bubbly with excitement.

She picked up her staff and twirled it around, before thumping it down on the ground, hard.
"You brought your weapons. Draw them. I want to see what you're worth in combat."
Daenan's eyes narrowed. "What are you on about?"
"Well I can't hire a weakling, can I?"
"Are you calling me weak?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes," she simply stated, leaning lazily on her staff. "You couldn't even beat a frail little girl like me in an arm wrestling match. Not a good impression for the big, strong Orc, now is it?" she mocked. Waves of anger radiated from Daenan.
"Now hold on!" he shouted, his hand clenching around the handle of his warhammer. "You tricked me!"
"So you proved you're both weak and stupid. Gives you all the more reason to prove you're at least halfway decent in combat, no?" she asked, still making light of him. Faenan fluttered backwards. "Sanguilia, I wouldn't make him mad..." he warned. He knew what would happen if Daenan actually got angry. He always held back, except when he lost his temper. There was still a wild beast within the Orc, even if it was usually thoroughly caged.
"Pft, or what?" continued the guide. "Will he charge at me? Try to hurt me? Ooh, he might try to pin me down against a tree and do what he did to the girl from the tavern the other day. Pity though, don't think you're big enough for me to notice."

Daenan snapped and roared in pure, unfiltered rage. Faenan dove for cover as the warhammer twirled through the air before coming down with the force of a meteor on the defenceless woman, who simply grinned up at the incoming destruction.

Melena was panting, her long blond hair glued together by the sap of the pine tree she was laying behind. She was exhausted. She had been running for Lord knows how long now. On top of her was Evon, keeping his hand on her mouth to keep her quiet . She had been happy to see him again, and even happier to discover that the man was overjoyed when he discovered she had become a real student. He had turned the evening meal into a real party and had dragged her into the middle of everyone, loudly praising her success. She had been so embarrassed that she had fervently wished to just disappear, but contrary to her expectations she had received a loud chorus of cheers from the roughly six hundred students present. After several rounds of cheering and mugs being raised, Evon had, very unceremoniously at that, emptied his mug over her head, soaking her from top to bottom. The ringing slap she had given him had been met with even more cheers. It had been a unique experience, and just like nearly everything that had happened to her since the teacher had opened up more of the Mansion for her, nobody seemed to follow the general rules of social grace.
In short, it had been a great evening.

And now she was here, hiding with over a hundred others, knowing that if they were found it would be the end of them. A handful had literally turned invisible, either through magic or other means, she did not know. Others preferred to hide. She had seen a few fellow students who had possessed wings take to the skies the moment they had cleared the doors of the mess hall. It was a valiant attempt and may have succeeded if they hadn't been caught by a large table overtaking them. What had happened with them after that, she didn't know. She was too busy running for her life. Of course, given her meagre physical abilities, she hadn't made it far before Evon had simply scooped her up and ran with her. Not in a graceful manner, oh no. He hadn't carried her like a princess. He had simply thrown her across his shoulder and sprinted as if the devil was hot on his heels. Which, in a way, he was.
Apparently the teacher didn't like it when people turned the mess hall upside down.
And apparently he expressed his displeasure in such ways that sent six hundred students, most of them very capable in magical arts or gifted with physical prowess, running for their lives.

So far, a hundred were still conscious and had now ceased moving all-together, after they discovered that the tables could be used as missiles and that no tree provided enough cover. Surprisingly enough, nobody had died. She whispered that to Evon, who smiled miserably at her.
"He'd never kill us. Honestly, he's not even angry. Look at those he caught," he whispered back.
He lifted himself a bit, letting her sneak out from underneath him. She crawled ahead, moving carefully to not get her dress stuck on the roots, and peeked from behind the trunk.

There were downed students everywhere! Their bodies littered the ground and the few that retained a sliver of consciousness were groaning in pain.
"Some of us are physically though, but there are plenty who study other subjects, like yourself. He hits everyone just hard enough to take us out. Bastard knows perfectly well what he's doing."
She thought about that for a moment. Then her eyes went wide as she caught the hidden meaning.
"You mean this is a game for him? This isn't new?"
"Welcome to the initiation. It happens every Lord damned time there's a new student. So we throw a party beforehand, eat and drink as much as we can, then he comes in, yells at us about something we've done wrong, and the game starts. We've even got pretty intense betting pools for how long someone will remain standing."
She paled a bit at that.
"How long someone will remain standing?"
"Oh yes," said a new voice that she connected to her impending doom. She and Evon jumped up, the latter far faster than she did, and looked up. Sitting lazily atop a branch a good dozen feet up was the teacher, calmly eating an apple with one hand. And holding a very large barrel of beer with the other.
"Oh no," said Evon, paling considerably.  He turned and made a run for it, and got an impressive two steps in before the barrel shattered against him and reduced him to a moaning pile of battered flesh.
"Lord, do I hate your guts at times, you son of a b—UGH!"
His tirade was interrupted as the teacher, who had jumped down from his position, landed neatly on his back. Given that Evon's body sank into the dirt a bit, and given how hard he felt when she had slapped him, she knew he was far heavier than he looked.

He stretched out an arm. "There's a lake over there. Deep, clean water, really good for swimming when the sun's out."
She blinked. He was alluding to something, but she had no clue what. Then he suddenly grabbed her and despite still not knowing what was going on, she suddenly became very certain that it was going to hurt.
"Right!" he shouted, loud enough for every conscious student to hear.
"In accordance with an age old tradition where we celebrate the arrival of a new student to our merry bunch, I will give little Melena here the honour of keeping a track of the time. So in other words, stay conscious until after she's done counting and you win."
He turned to her and gave her a wide grin, bending slightly through the knees and grabbing her tightly by her thighs. Suddenly she connected the dots between the water and the countdown and screamed. It didn't help one bit, and before the first 'no' had even properly left her mouth she was launched into the air. She didn't know how high it was, but she could very clearly see the large lake. The three parts of her mind panicked in every direction. A fall of that height would kill her, water or no. But, even that knowledge was put to the side by the very simple, yet overwhelming fact that she was FUCKING HIGH UP IN THE AIR. So she did what any reasonable sentient would have done in her place. She screamed. Loudly.

The air tore at her as she finally lost her upwards momentum and started sailing down, gaining speed as she went. At first she went slowly enough that she still could scream, but after a few seconds the wind pressure prevented her from drawing breath. She willed some control back over her limbs, wrestled with her blind panic, and forced herself to turn. It didn't help much, but at least she could breathe again. She saw her long hair trailing behind her, the morning sun illuminating the golden strands. The massive, unnatural forest seemed to spread to the horizon in every direction, and for the first time since her arrival she could see the full size of the Mansion. It was beyond massive, being far larger than most villages and nearing the size of a small city. It had all sorts of roofs, from solid white marmer, through thatched roofs to tiles in every colour imaginable. Then you had the massive rock it all disappeared into, as if the gargantuan boulder had simply rolled along and taken a bite out of the Mansion.

Then a flash of green went by her, before a demolishing pain struck her entire body and overwhelmed her consciousness, dragging it down into a very comfortable darkness.


She woke up a good time later in her own room, feeling perfectly fine. She went to the large window and looked out, and saw that the sun was high up in the sky. Roughly midday then. She walked towards the door and paused when she saw herself in the mirror. Her dress was immaculately clean and her hair had clearly been freshly combed. What had happened while she was out cold? Was it all a bad dream?
A knock on the door pulled her away from her thoughts.
"Come in!" she shouted.
Evon pushed open the door, looking just as healthy and normal as he always did. When he saw her standing in front of the mirror, he gave her a broad grin. It wasn't the lecherous kind that she had received so often, even if the dress was accentuating her features quite well. It was an honest, warm smile, even if it was full of mischief.
"Eyo lass! How're you feeling?"
"I'm... well. Thank you."
"Yeah, I don't believe a word of it. Lord above, he was kind enough to turn me around before he threw you up. You have no idea how high you went!" he said, laughing out loud.
"You turned into this teeny, tiny dot!"
Her cheeks flushed and she wasn't sure whether to be angry or embarrassed.
"Well, not like I could do anything about it!"
"Woo lass!" He brought his hands up in defense, even if he couldn't stop laughing entirely.
"I'm not saying that to cause offense. I honestly envy you, I'll take flying through the sky over being smashed into the ground by a barrel. And the fucker's not exactly a featherweight either."
She brought a hand up to her mouth, trying to hide her smile.
"Reckon he meant anything by it?" Evon went on, not paying much attention to her.
"Gee Evon, I think you like drinking a bit too much, so here's a barrel to slake your thirst! Or maybe he's suggesting I take up woodworking? Or maybe he looked at me and though 'Gee, if I have to take in students like him I'm really scraping the barrel!' Guy has a real weird sense of humour you know?"
Melena couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing. The way he was imitating the teacher was just too much. Evon continued, undisturbed by her outburst.
"Reckon that's why he chucked the table at the Rylak twins. They usually only eat what they like and leave anything behind. Funny way of saying 'sit back down and eat your food' though. I wouldn't say subtlety is the man's specialty but he sure gets the point across though."
She was bending over now, arms clutched against her stomach.
"And you should've seen him when he took out poor Devretta. Popped up out of nowhere behind the long ears and shouted so loudly that her eardrums burst on the spot. She always had a habit of eavesdropping, so I wager he wanted to make sure she heard everything this time," her old savior went on, relentlessly cracking jokes.
Tears ran down her cheeks and Evon finally relented.

"Okay lass, calm down now. Don't want you turning blue or purple or whatever colour it is people turn into these days."
It took her a while, but she eventually managed.
"Better?" When she nodded, he continued. "Good. Now listen 'ere. Since I'm the one who brought you in and you actually made it to the real school, well done on that again by the way, I'm your mentor to get you used to everything. Boss man doesn't have time for every bit of education, and you might notice that time has a rather askew affect on us when we start studying with him. Heard you're in for a revenge route so he'll probably rush you a bit more than some others, but even then he can't give you one on one lessons all the time, and group lessons are a rare thing, so instead we teach each other a lot. Everyone goes through certain basics though. And luckily enough for you, I'm in charge of basic physical education. Since you're the only newcomer we have at present that needs it, that means you'll get the privilege of having me call you a maggot all the time while we're training! Isn't that joyous!"

She shook her head. What he told her wasn't too unexpected. The teacher had explained to her how her days would look like. It wasn't strange, given that there were hundreds of students and the teacher was alone, and everyone, as she had noticed, was incredibly unique. Everyone had their own goals, study project, classes they followed, ambitions they chased after. It wasn't like the original school at all.
Evon left the room and motioned for her to follow.
"Right, so we'll have lunch first. Don't be surprised when you see who's cooking. He always does that after a welcoming. Maybe as a way to say 'no hard feelings for beating you all unconscious, ey?', but I can't say I can complain. Guy cooks well enough to make the beating more than worth it."
"I... The teacher cooks?" she asked incredulously.
"Oh aye, bugger's damn good at it too. Gotta listen to what I say lass," he responded with a wink.
"You'll notice that... well, common sense from the outer world doesn't have much business in these parts. For example, you laughed at everything I said back in your room, aye?"
She nodded and he continued on. "Thing is, they weren't jokes. Good amount of us is constantly roaming the world. Not all of us return. But when we do, and there's a newcomer, he gives us all a bit of crude advice in a rather comical way. Sure we're all hurt, but pain is... Well, pain. It's not that bad."
"Right... Ah! Evon! Speaking of pain, why—"
"Are you fine, am I fine, and is as you'll soon see, everyone fine?"
"Yes. I'm quite sure I shouldn't have survived that fall either. I'm not tough like you."
"Well gosh Mel, you keep complimenting me like that and I'll be blushing like a schoolboy in no time. Well, technically I am a schoolboy so go ahead really. Nah. You'll notice that it's one of his abilities, and boy does the man have plenty. I have absolutely no idea how he does it, given that the man doesn't have an ounce of magic in his body, but he can heal us all just fine. Reckon it's part of this spirit gig of his that he runs."

He stopped and placed a hand on her chest, forcing her to stop as well. She turned and looked up at him, and found him sternly looking at her.
"For all the jokes that I make, all the games that I play, our teacher, master, mentor, lord, however you wish to call him or whatever others call him, his strength is the real deal. He may not have magic, but as you can see he dominates all of us. I still don't know where his strength truly lies, and just like nearly everyone here, my knowledge only scratches the very tip of the iceberg where spirit is concerned, but that man? He masters it. And not knowing the limits of that grates on me more than you could know."

He kept the stern look on his face for a few moments more, until she nodded. It was disconcerting, Evon was nearly always happy-go-lucky, seeming to move without a care in the world, but now he was solemn and serious.

Then his face lit up and he looked like a young man again as his trademark smile returned to his face.
"But for now! Food! Lots of it! And like I said yesterday, congratulations on your promotion Mel! Welcome to the merry band that is us, and welcome to the Mansion!"




The two shared some more small talk as they went into the large mess hall and found the tables filled to the brim with empty dishes and a long queue leading to where the food was served. Evon took one look at the line and shook his head.
"Head of the party! Comin' through!" he shouted, pulling a surprised Melena with him as he simply charged into the line. Embarrassment flushed her face, but once again nobody seemed to mind and the flood of people easily parted to let the pair through. A sudden mouth-watering fragrance hit her like a wall and she became aware of an alarmingly large appetite. Evon picked up on it immediately and winked at her.
"Told ya the old one's a good cook!"
"And just who is it you're calling old, pipsqueak?" came the teacher's voice, cutting through the pleasant background noises of students chatting and the fire crackling in the stoves.
Evon turned to the teacher with a broad grin on his face and made a gesture she didn't know, but recognised as being very obscene.
"You of course! You ancient relic!" he countered.
"Ouch, how you wound me!" The teacher put a hand on his forehead and leaned back, feigning hurt.
"That's right! Realise your age grandpa and leave the present to the new generation!"
The teacher threw a quick wink at Melena before pulling a few honeycakes out of an oven.
"Right, time for me to realise my age. Going to monopolise these then, since they don't require much chewing."
Evon's smile faltered. "Hey now! That's not what I meant!"
"Oh have some compassion Evon! I'm old and decrepit and what-not. Don't have many teeth left, you know?"
"Oh come on! Those are my favourites!"
The teacher sunk his pearly white teeth into one and leered at Evon from over the crust.
"Well they're mine now," he responded with a mouth full of what Melena could smell was a pure delicacy.
Evon muttered darkly and stared at the ground, admitting defeat. The teacher winked at Melena again and slid a plate full of the honeycakes along the bar. A delighted Evon snatched them from it and he ran off with it, muttering thanks while cackling madly, repeating the word honeycakes over and over as if it were a mantra. Melena stared at his back as he went off, half running, half dancing.

"Poor girl," a cold voice whispered to her. A shiver ran through her back as a part of her mind wondered how a voice could be cold.
"Not even here for a full day and your mentor already ran off without you. Such is the power of honeycakes."
She turned towards the source of the sound and saw nothing, except for a slight discolouration.
"I'm here sweetie. Look closer."
She did and suddenly became aware of a dark shadow floating in front of her. She saw something extend from it and land on her head. She could swear she felt tiny layers of frost forming on her hair where the thing touched her. Then the thing left her head again, only to land a moment later, before repeating it. She blinked in surprise. Whatever the creature in front of her was, it was patting her on the head.
"Melena, meet Kreya. She's an old friend of mine and one of the eldest students here. She's a Krast. A ghost-like being. Gentlest woman you'll ever meet, and while her touch is cold, her heart is warm."
"Oh, ever the charmer, aren't you G?"
The teacher made an exaggerated bow.
"Ever at your service."
Kreya rewarded him with a cold laugh.
"And Kreya, this is Melena, the newest student. Managed to split her mind three-ways in but a few months time. Smart girl, if a bit shy."
"G, anyone you bring in here for the first time is 'shy'," laughed Kreya. The ghost like apparition turned to her.
"You ever need anything sweetie, come ask me. I've done plenty in my youth, I'm currently working here as caretaker and general manager. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to haunt Evon for abandoning you in the favour of honeycakes."

Melena watched the strange woman float off while trying to get a hold of things again. She thought she would have a handle on things now, that she would have at least adjusted to how quickly weird things happened around her, but no, they still floored her. She closed her eyes and started to count to ten. At seven she had to restart when Evon let out a scream and laughter erupted all around her. Once she hit ten, she felt a bit calmer and opened her eyes again, and found the teacher smiling softly at her as he expertly handled a huge pan full of eggs. She hadn't caught on to the size of the kitchen yet, but suddenly realised it was enormous and that he was the only one working, even though two dozen stoves were burning and several large ovens were lit and busy cooking. A broad aroma permeated the air around the entrance.
Despite all that, she didn't allow herself to be sidetracked again.
"G?" she asked, her golden eyebrows tilted in a frown.
"Stands for Gaelus." He bowed. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Older students quite often call me that."
"So your name is Gaelus?" she asked.
He gave her a mysterious smile. "I am Gaelus," he responded, his eyes twinkling as he said that. She felt a sudden flash of emotions that slipped from him, but it happened to fast that she couldn't place any of them.
"So you are strong enough to beat up six hundred students huh? Never figured you for the violent sort."
"Oh, I am a monster. Remember your colleague that assaulted you?" He grinned at her, flashing a lot of teeth.
"Violence is a means. One of many. Quite a simple and direct one, and easy to fall back to if there are significant differences in level, but like I said, it is but one out of many. Anyway, none of them fought back against me. It somehow became a tradition to run. Originally it was a fight, and then things were completely different."
"And the healing, how—" She shushed when he pressed a finger on her lips.
"As much as I'd love to chat, you are holding up the line." He gave her a broad grin that fit his strange, complicated character completely. And with twinkling eyes he concluded. "So pick your poison and get out." The wink that accompanied the words took the sting out of the word and with a smile and a laugh she started filling her plate.


A short time later Melena had successfully navigated her way to the table, juggling three plates at once, each laden to the brim with things that the teacher had suggested she must try. That'll teach her to ask for his opinion rather than formulating her own. She sat herself down next to Evon, who was frantically looking around as if the place was haunted. Given that she had passed a very pleased looking Kreya, who had been busy with a honeycake, she assumed it actually was.
When she ribbed her ellbow in Evon's side his first reaction was to shout out and cover his plate protectively.
"My hone— Oh, hello Melena. Sorry 'bout before by the way. It's just..." he paused to devour another one.
"I really don't get to eat these often and I am utterly and hopelessly addicted to 'em."
He looked sheepishly at her with a mouth full of cake.
"Sarry."
She gave him a smile and slapped him on the back of his head. Hard. He barely flinched and as his mouth was occupied with eating, he let his eyes smile with approval. He gulped the cake down.
"Glad to see you're fitting in."
"It's... Strange. The entire atmosphere feels so..." she gestured with her one hand, her other floating down to her plates.
"Relaxing? As if there's an outside force that makes this an incredibly pleasant place where you can easily kick back and enjoy the food?"
She nodded, took a bite, then closed her eyes as her full attention shifted on the heavenly taste.
"Unfair, isn't it? I don't know how he does it, but like I said, man's a damn good cook. Take your time, no need to talk much. I'll do the talking for the both of us." He threw another grin her way.
"You'll find that to be a common occurrence. Anyway, to answer your question, Kreya's partially responsible for it. The fact that the mess hall is just a pleasant place to be is another. Our lovely leader-man's very existence is another. He explained to you about his barriers? Well, He tends to let them down a bit here. And he is always happy when cooking, and that affects all of us. I'd tell more but—"
"That is more my job, wouldn't you say?" a cold voice interrupted as Kreya sat, or rather floated, herself down on the opposite side.
"What Evon is aware of and hesitates to say, and what most people here aren't even vaguely aware of, is just how strong G is," Kreya said with a voice that revealed her fondness for the teacher.
"Most students here realise that G is strong. Capable. Wise. Plenty of them think that they have an inkling of how strong he is, physically and in terms of Spirit. Others think that he is strong, but is also weak since he is incapable of using magic."
"He can't use magic?" an incredulous Melena interrupted.
She felt Kreya's sad smile more than she saw it, given that the Krast lacked a visible mouth.
"Not traditional magic, nor..." She fell silent when Evon gave a sharp shake of the head.
"Right, types of magic is for another time. But no, he cannot. Some think him weak for that. Evon, however, has a rare talent. He has a very good eye. He can spot talent and ability in people like some others can, but he has a true godly eye when it comes to seeing potential. And what he really loathes to admit is what he sees when he looks at G. What far too few students realise and what, if the truth got out, would end this damned business with all the factions in one blow." Kreya's voice was full of anger at the end and a thin layer of frost formed around the place where she sat at.
"Don't say it, please. I don't like to think of it. I don't like to know of it," Evon whispered, quietly. He seemed distraught, which worried Melena, but she was curious for the truth now.
"What is it?" she asked.
Evon quietly shook his head.
Melena looked at Kreya, who shook her head as well and pointed back at Evon. Silence filled the air between the trio as Melena awaited an answer with bated breath, until she realised none was forthcoming.
She brought her lips to his ear and whispered in her most seductive voice.
"Evon..."
It shook him out of his stupor and he tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.
"I will trade you my honeycakes for the answer."

Evon turned around and from the look on his face, she could tell he was actually contemplating the offer. She gave him her broadest smile and tried her best to look cute. It wasn't something she was accustomed to, but it just felt right at this moment. She knew it was probably the teacher's influence getting to her, but she realised that she didn't really mind. It wasn't mind control, not really, and there was no harm in it.
He relented. He let out a deep sigh and looked at the still cooking teacher and as soon as his eyes landed on the man he shrunk in on himself, then looked away again as quickly as he could manage. Without another word he started scavenging Melena's honeycakes. He ate one. Then another. Then a third, before sighing deeply.
"Have you ever played with ants as a kid? Toyed with them? Gave them crumbs, or stomped on their nest?"
"I have. I used to play like that with my brother."
"Have you ever imagined how you appeared to those ants?"
Melena fell silent. She started connecting the dots.
"Smart girl," Kreya whispered.
"So you are saying..." she started. Evon nodded sadly.
"If I follow your analogy..." Her mind raced along with the words. She understood Evon's distaste of it. She had rewarded or crushed the ants without a care, her actions only dictated by her whims, and the ants had been powerless to do anything about it. She looked at the teacher, a man she had trusted with her life, who had taken her in and sheltered her, had protected her and educated her, and was actively raising her so she could accomplish her deepest desires. A pleasant, powerful, intelligent, wealthy, attractive and kind man. Who also had a monstrous side. Who had done all of it on a whim.
"We are the ants," she concluded with a strangled voice.




"Tsk," Kreya interjected.
"That's overkill. It's true that we are ants in terms of strength, but that's not to say he'll just suddenly go mad and start squashing us. You went through the induction with him yes?"
"The induction?"
"Steam bath. Lure your Spirit out. You know. That delightful experience," Evon added absentmindedly, having returned his focus to his beloved honeycakes.
"Oh. That," replied Melena, taking care to keep her facial expression set to neutral. Several sets of emotions were still warring inside of her in regards to that event.
Kreya laughed. It was a warm sound, but still sent a chill down her spine.
"Ah, I still remember my own induction. Must have been well over two thousand years ago."
Melena's mouth dropped open.
"Two thousand years? Your kind lives for that long?" she squeaked.
"What? No! My lifespan should have ended after roughly half a millennia! Hasn't Evon told you?"
She shook her head.
Kreya shot a glare at Evon that bounced off his cake-induced trance.
"When you pick up studying with G, you pretty much stop aging. As in, boom, done. No more getting older. Why do you think he fancies determined students over anyone else? With time aplenty, that trait is key to a constant advancement. Mind you, most students leave after a while and only rarely come back. A lot of us die out in the field as well. For all our strength and ability, the world is a dangerous place and when you spend too much time here, that is a thing all too many forget."
"I... He hinted at it, but to stop aging all together..."
Kreya somehow conveyed the gesture of her raising her hands, despite lacking said appendages.
"Girl, I can't explain how. His abilities far, far exceed anything I know. I'm the oldest student here present, but if you want answers to that you'll have to ask others. There are students that are older than me, and the faction leaders, may maggots nestle in their rectums, are among the eldest."
Evon shrugged, polishing off the last of the cakes.
"I wasn't joking when I said that you can kiss common sense goodbye. Several dozen races, hundreds of students, a Mansion the size of a city, abilities that range from mundane to godlike, and underneath that, sitting at the centre of this massive web is the big spider that nobody understands doing it all for reasons that nobody could even fathom, while still influencing it all."

Melena raised her hands and pushed herself back from the table. Kreya and Evon shared a look. It wasn't the first time that a student became overwhelmed when the realisation of just how weird and unnatural their new surroundings were. They obliged the new girl by giving her the time and space she needed as her mind raced over the new influx of information.
Melena used the time well. Her body was on autopilot, steadily eating simple foods that had no business tasting as good as they did, and the other three parts of her mind were working in parallel, chaining sequences of thoughts as fast as they could and supplying her with meagre explanations for her new situation.
It didn't make sense, but at this point things not making sense was a very normal thing. She accepted those under the idea as 'presently unknown' and let her thoughts roam further. A lot of things that the teacher had said earlier now made a lot more sense. Things she had overlooked before were now clear. She chuckled when she realised that the man had thrown so much information at her that it'd probably take her another lifetime before she would connect all the dots.

"So if I understand it all correctly, what the two of you are saying..." she trailed off, taking another bite of a pastry filled with something that reminded her of purple berries and heaven. "Is that I should stop caring about the small things, and enjoy life while it lasts, which is a long time?"
Kreya burst out laughing and a chilly breeze blew Melena's long hair back.
"That is a very commendable attitude, and honestly probably the best option. Anyway lass, it was really pleasant to make your acquaintance, but I have chores to attend. First and foremost will be haunting G to clean up when he's done. He likes to sneak out on that and I need to be quick if I want to keep him from doing a runner. Have fun you two!"
The Krast floated away from the bench and seemed to disperse.
"Damn it's hard to keep track of her," Evon commented, shaking his head.
Melena smiled. This place was home now. The contant bantering and bickering, the atmosphere, the new confidence she had that was undoubtedly a side effect from lounging near the teacher, all of it warmed her heart. The Mansion had been a shelter before, but now it was so much more than that. She gave Evon a bright laugh when she caught him looking at her, and she knew he understood when he smiled broadly at her in turn. He reached out and patted her on the shoulder.
"Welcome home lass."


A good meal and more small talk later, Melena was tagging along with Evon into the forest, on a way to a nearby clearing with a small waterfall. Evon had promised the scenery to be picturesque, as well as being a secluded spot where he could start her physical training in earnest. He was currently being his usual weird self by refusing to let his feet touch the ground and walking on his hands instead.
"So what is this about factions that Kreya kept mentioning?"
"Ah. Piqued your interest the ol' gal did with that story, did she?" he responded. Melena realised that the man was a lot more uncouth in private.
"It has."
"Good! Curiosity's a great trait! Step lightly though, it kills. Anyway, there's a few factions in the Mansion. There's people that are very protective of our good ol' leader man. Think the bugger needs protection from the evil and all's that not right in the world. Bunch of idiots is what they are. Honestly. As if the bloke needs to be kept safe from the world. Other way's around more damn likely. Anyway, that's one group. Usually the factions are filled with the older students and the more afoot ones. Travelling sort, they are. Most students in the Mansion at present aren't too fond of combat. Hence why he keeps trouncing us so easily. When my welcoming happened the group actually made a stand."
"How did that go?"
"Oh, absolutely horrible. He put out decoys all over the place and scrambled with everyone's ability to sense things. We were all blindly attacking one another thinking they were the boss man. I don't think the man lifted a finger that day."
He sighed deeply and scratched his chin, looking perfectly at ease with the movement. Given that it meant he had to support himself with only one arm, it spoke volumes about Evon's physical strength.
"Honestly, a lot of idiots thought that meant they were stronger than him in terms of combat ability, and that if it weren't for boss man's Spirit, they could handle them. Which leads us to the second faction, those who aren't happy with what the big man teaches. They want more. They want what he owns. They want the Mansion, to enter the restricted zones, and to know what goes on in his head. They're at odd with the first faction, often violently so. The clashes never happen close to home, but they do happen and they're probably the main cause while people don't return. Then there's a third faction, that just wants to be taught and tries to stay away from the politics."
Melena pondered it in silence, a deep frown marring her beautiful face. It seems that even in this idyllic location, human nature and greed were still well and truly alive.
"What faction are you in?"
Evon spat in response.
"I'm in neither. Some consider us a fourth faction but unlike the other three who have an actual structure in place, we  do not give a Kraft's arse."
"A... What?"
"Kraft's arse! You saw Kreya! Lass is made of shadows! She don't have one!"
"I don't follow!"
"Lord yer being daft! She doesn't have an arse! So if I can't be bothered to give an arse of a being who doesn't have one in the first place, how much do ya think I actually care?"
"Oh," Melena responded, feeling very, very dumb.
"Right. Anyway, we're the group that don't care about politics. Unlike the third, who band together to keep themselves from being dragged into the other two, who can be very active about recruiting, we're a loose group. No ties, no ranks, no anything. Mind you, we'll protect our daft leader man to the death if it so required, but the key part that binds us together?" His voice dropped to a stage whisper.
"We know we don't need to. There's only a handful of students that might give him some trouble from those I know, although there's one that is supposed to be his favourite and near equal, but I'm not buying that rumour. And anyway, those students are so firmly on his side that attacking him would be a complicated and messy way to commit suicide. And I like honeycakes a bit too much to get myself killed that way."
"Is that why Kreya's so annoyed with the factions?"
"She and I share the same opinion lass. Factions are a waste of time and their members are a bunch o' twats that dinnae the world works. Fried bastards's the lot's what they are. Ho'est, cair kwai—"
"Evon!"
"Aye?"
"What in the Lord's name are you saying?"
"I... What?"
Melena, by now aware that shooting the man a death glare was rather ineffective at her level, resorted to but one means out of many, to quote her teacher, and violently stomped on his fingers.
"Either you switched languages or you had a stroke or something, because you were speaking gibberish."

Evon laid flat on the ground, massaging his hurt fingers.
"I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of mimicking this arse-puckered pile of horse shit that you call a language, but if I want to swear a blue streak I'll much prefer doing it in my native tongue, thank you very much. You weren't missing much."
Melena considered stomping him again, before relenting.
"Fine. Fair enough."
"Anyway, clearing's over there!" Evon pointed, changing the subject. Melena looked and saw what he meant. Now that Evon was quiet for a moment, she could hear the waterfall as well.
"Remember what I said earlier?" her mentor asked as he got up. He suddenly had a dangerous grin on his face.
Melena ransacked her brain for the answer, and paled as she recalled his words.
"RUN YOU MAGGOT!" he screamed, a fireball forming in his hand.
Melena didn't retort and ran as if her life depended on it.

She regretted not stomping him a second time.




"You're keeping quite a close eye on her, G. You haven't done that in a long while," Kreya commented as she whisked the dirty dishes of a table and into the kitchen.
"Am I now?" came the amused response as Gaelus gracefully caught them and dunked them in the water.
"Oh come now. I may not be able to see where that tendril of Spirit is going, but I'm not an idiot. You're watching them right now!"
Gaelus smiled and fished the clean plates out, putting them on the kitchen counter to let them dry.

Kreya watched the man she had followed for over two millennia and shook her head. She knew him better than most, and she knew very little of him. Still, she had picked up a few things after many years of observation.
"Is it because she wants revenge?"
Silence. Kreya smiled.
"Familiar topic for you?"
She didn't flinch when he grabbed her using his Spirit. The plates she had been holding with her magic dropped to the floor, but didn't shatter. Like everything else in the Mansion, they were tough.
"Spot on, aren't I?"
The hold tightened and her smile broadened.
"Feeling suicidal today, Kreya?"
"You won't harm me."
"Oh really?" came the response with a sliver of ice in there. If she had been human, she'd have paled, but her physical body didn't have that ability.
"Well, you won't kill me at least."
"Oh really?" Amusement this time.
"Yes. I do too good a job of managing this pig-sty," she countered. He laughed and his hold faded. She smiled to herself, but it was weaker now. The man was impossibly strong and she damn well knew he hadn't used even a fragment of what he had at his disposal.
"Why are you so interested in what drives me anyway?"
Kreya started laughing. It was a loud, full sound that caused frost to form on the plates she was still sending into the kitchen, causing Gaelus to curse as he fumbled trying to catch them, which caused Kreya to laugh even more. As if the man wasn't aware that the main hobby of every student was trying to figure out what motivated the man who taught them. That, and his past.
"But if you must know, then yes, I find the desire for revenge a good thing. It is always tightly intertwined with anger. The cold, calm kind, that you have to swallow and master. The kind that keeps you motivated and permits you to strive after a goal no matter how harsh and painful the way there."
He paused and looked at her. His eyes twinkled with emotions she could not place and she was fairly certain she did not want to.
"You could say I'm intimately familiar with that."
He looked down again and Kreya let out a sigh of relief.
"As were you once, as I seem to recall. When you found out about me and came knocking on my door, wounded, hurt, screaming and begging for my aid."
Kreya shivered as she recalled the memories. She gingerly touched the long gone wounds.
"You're not distracting me this time, G," she countered, and hated that her voice wavered slightly as she said it. Her past had not been a happy one.

"Then yes. I am keeping an eye on them. Currently Evon is making good on his promise and is using the word maggot with an impressive frequency, really. Melena's doing the usual newbie routine. Screaming, running, sweating. She's not begging for him to stop though. Although I'm not entirely sure whether that is because she understands the use of it all, knows it would be of no use anyway, or because she simply lacks the necessary breath to do so."
He tilted his head sideways, listening more closely.
"Then again, given how much she is screaming I think we can safely rule out the third option. Good girl. Determined to get even at all costs. I like people with a fiery spirit."
Kreya sighed and shot three tables worth of plates at him in one go. To her annoyance he caught all of them with ease, without having to rely on his Spirit.

"You know that it's bad form to peep on girls?"
This time he laughed. It was a joyful sound, full of life. It resonated through the kitchen and boomed into the mess hall.
"Kreya, I think you are quite possibly the least qualified person to lecture me about ethics." She felt his eyes on her and knew he was giving her one of those damned annoying smug half smiles.
"Remember Alurana? Beautiful city, wasn't it? Such a shame you couldn't hold your temper."
Kreya floated off further into the mess hall, chastised. Gaelus smiled at her as she went.
He shook his head and sighed deeply. Messing with her was fun, but he missed his favourite student. One who could really be called the odd one out. He needed her far more than anyone knew. She was pivotal in his plans. Another thing nobody knew and only a handful suspected. But, lacking her presence, he made do with other things. Luckily enough another source of entertainment was nearby, and currently attempting a very brave and equally foolhardy thing. After Melena had botched a dodge, Evon's fireball had set her hair on fire, and the girl had not exactly responded well to that.


Evon fell to the ground, clutching his groin in pain. He had been laughing so hard he had completely underestimated Melena's very limited combat ability, and had received a solid kick to the unmentionables as a result. That had hurt, and had been completely fair. Her stomping on him when he was down on the ground? That hadn't been fair and Melena had, after seeing the look in his eyes, made the wise decision to run, not as if her life depended on it. Oh no. That had been earlier. This time, her life did depend on it.

She managed to cross the clearing, which Evon had to admit, was an impressive feat given how tired she was. Then his sword nailed her in the leg. She went down, screaming. An obvious thing really, the lass wasn't used to pain yet. No matter, that'd come. It was a clean wound as far as they went. He had thrown the sword in a straight line and had avoided her arteries. Now he was coming up to her and his anger was radiating off him. He was furious and despite his limited grasp on Spirit compared to the owner of the Mansion, he was still a powerful contender amongst humans.

"Well Melena, lil' lass, care to tell me what that was about?"
She tried to crawl away, realised that was utterly futile, and turned around, facing him. She winced in pain as she turned, but faced him with more determination than he had guessed. Given that she wasn't screaming anymore, he figured she had tasked one part of her mind with that task, then isolated it, leaving the other two parts free.
"You burned my hair!" she yelled. She chose to stand her ground. Admirable, really. So he stepped on her foot and broke it. She started screaming again. He ignored it and retrieved his sword, widening the cut as he pulled it out. It didn't take her too long before her screaming stopped again. If he hadn't been in full on instructor mode, he would have smiled and complimented her. As it was...
"Nobody here, lil' lass, gives a singular crap about your hair." He pulled her up by her arm until she was hanging from his hold and was pleased to see the determination underneath thick layers of pain and fear.
"You hurt your instructor. Bad move lass." He dropped her and before she could hit the ground, he kicked her hard, breaking six ribs if he had to take a guess. He was fairly certain he was right. This time the screams were something else. He had been kind. He had avoided the ribs covering her lungs.
"Well lass, reckon that settles the training for today. You're too broken now to be of any use to me. Time to drag you home. Oh, one more thing though."

His sword flashed through the air and sliced through her hair, nicking the back of her head in the process. The long, golden strands fell to the ground and she was left with only a short fuzz. He sheathed his sword and gingerly picked her up. He used his arm to support her and placed his free hand on her chest, sending a soothing stream of magic into her. He couldn't heal her broken bones, and didn't want to either, but it was enough to alleviate her pain to something more bearable.
She started to cough and he immediately tilted her on her side, letting her freely cough up clots of blood without running the risk of her choking on it.
"Well lass, shame it had to go that way. You know, you held your ground pretty damn well. I'm impressed. Genuinely impressed. You got balls of steel, y'know that?"
Melena groaned in response.
"Aye, reckon you're full of pain now. Reckon you got a damn good fright too. But not to worry, you ain't going to get killed. Pain is part of the process. It's unpleasant, but you need to build up a good resistance against it. Very unpleasant lesson, but it's temporary and your mind will adapt to that idea after a while. There's limits, of course, enough pain shatters that. Like your kick did. Boom, no more self control and down I went. Seeing it coming helps a lot." He shook his head and ruffled her short hair.
"I didn't cut that off to piss you off either. I can imagine how much your hair means to you, and you'll find that regrowing it isn't too much of a task. Even I can do it. Anyway, don't talk back to me again when I'm in instructor mode though. Doesn't end well. You can banter with me as much as you want outside of it, but when I'm training it, I say jump, you jump." A battered Melena looked up at him and realised that his stern voice clashed with the worry in his eyes. She groaned in response.
"No harsh feelings?"

Part of her wanted to give him an angry stare, ignore him or just tell him to go to hell, but that would be petty and despite being hurt all over and him being the direct cause of it, she didn't want to be that. For one, he didn't deserve that, he was only doing his job, but for another she didn't want to become a person like that. She doubted that her teacher would approve of that, and she couldn't shake off the deep desire of not wanting to disappoint him.
"I'll abstain from putting you on my to kill list. For now."
Evon laughed and ruffled her all too short hair.
"That's the spirit lass!" shouted her eccentric and mad mentor. "Now let's go back to the Mansion. Lunch time's nearing and there might be a few honeycakes left over."

Melena didn't know when she had blacked out on the way back, but she knew it had happened at one point. It was quite easy to tell, because she had no recollection of her having gone back into the Mansion, much less of her arriving at a worryingly large hall that she easily recognised as an infirmary. She wondered if this was a room where people who trained their medical skills practised on the wounded. A motion in the corner of her eyes caught her attention and she saw a blueish, lithe form dance from table to table, searching through bottles and pots that undoubtedly contained medical herbs. The moment she turned her head to take a better look at the strange creature, it responded. It turned surprisingly quickly given that it looked like it would float off any moment. Melena was met with two large, crystal blue eyes that seemed to dissect her in an instant. Then the calculating look was gone, replaced with care. The long, thin creature stepped closer to her and folded out her arm. Only then did Melena realise that the limbs of the creature were twice as long as her own, and were bent in three places. Also it had hooves at the end of its legs rather than feet. She had the faint idea that she should be surprised, but given the past few days, meeting a strange creature just didn't cut it anymore.

"Good evening. I hope you slept well?" came a definitely male voice. It was soothing, calm and filled to the brim with magic. The man's touch was beyond gentle as his hand touched her chest, which she suddenly realised was bare. She reached out for the blanket covering her and hurriedly pulled it up as her cheeks flushed. The man laughed.
"Oh, not to worry. Your kind and mine do not really share the same ideas in what we consider sexual or attractive."
"And what would you find attractive then?" she asked, blinking in surprise when her mind caught up with her mouth. Lord above, what kind of question was that?
"Strange, I wouldn't expect your mind to be jumbled," the creature responded, moving his hand from her chest to her head. She saw a faint blueish light appear and felt something warm spread through her forehead, before it dissipated equally quickly.
"No, no concussion, then why... Ah, of course. You are the newcomer, are you not? No wonder you are confused. I am sorry, it is sometimes hard for me to keep track of everyone. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Liriras, a Slivir'i. I'm a student of the biological arts. And to answer your earlier question, my kind is very much attuned to magic, and therefore the physical forms that you humans find endearing are mundane to us. We do not show off with our bodies, but with magic instead." His mouth twisted into a smile and she noticed that aside his blue skin and far larger eyes, he still looked somewhat human in appearance. "Some people refer to these as light shows. Personally I find that term rather amusing. Anyway, lest we become distracted, let me inform you as to what you were brought in for, and what I have treated so far."

He moved to pull down the blanket, but Melena resisted and even in her weakened, untrained state, she somehow kept him from pulling it down. If this annoyed Liriras, he did not show it. He smiled at her instead and then his eyes lit up slightly as his magic grabbed hold of her hands and forced her fingers to let go. Gently. Then he pulled the blanket down. As he turned his attention back towards his patient, Melena saw how the blanket started floating, was magically folded and was whisked into a nearby cupboard. Part of her mind wondered how she could tell it was magic and not Spirit, but the other parts of her quickly reminded her that those questions would be answered later. Probably.

"When Evon brought you in, you had, in order of severity, six broken ribs, a deep... is cut the right word? Yes, cut. A deep cut in your right leg with an exit wound on the other end. The exit wound was smaller than the entry one, but as cuts go it was clean. You also had minor burn wounds on your back, as well as a minor cut on the back of your head. For the ribs, I applied a spell that will keep your loose bone fragments in place. Before you will be allowed to leave, I will bandage up that area. You will retain your ability to move freely with them, but the pain will remain and due to the bandages you will be less able to breathe in freely. I would have done more, but I was told not to. For the cut, I have reconnected the veins and muscles that were damaged, then closed the wound itself. From that, you will not suffer any hindrances. It is back to how it was beforehand. For your burn wounds, I have applied an ointment. I would list the ingredients, but I honestly know not their names in this language. And you would not understand mine. I mean no offence, but you are not magically gifted enough to understand me. I cleaned the wound first, of course. There were some remnants of your clothes in there. You will find that there is a dressing atop your burns, to keep it from disinfecting. Once again the pain will remain, but as long as you do not forcefully remove the dressing, it will heal nicely without any scars. Lastly, I disinfected the cut on the back of your head. Further treatment was not needed. It was but a shallow wound with only some minor, superficial damage. Your cranial structure and your cervix were not harmed. Refrain from scratching it when it will itch, and it shall heal nicely and swiftly. You have a good body. Do take care to maintain it."

Melena blushed at the last statement, catching on too late that he was not referring to her in a sexual manner. Lord but it was hard to adjust to some things. Now that she thought about it, ever since she had started being a real student, nobody had thrown a lecherous look her way. It was soothing in a way she had never realised. Even her friends from before, whenever they thought she couldn't see, had thrown such looks her way.
She jumped up from her daydreams when she realised Liriras was awaiting an answer. The man had a peculiar, formal way of speaking, but given that he hadn't fully mastered the language they were conversing in, that wasn't too strange. He clearly knew what he was doing, but she couldn't help but feel that something about his smile was off.
"Is... Something bothering you?"
His smile became genuine.
"I thank you for your concern. I do not like letting patients leave my care while they are still in pain."
"I'm not in pain though," Melena countered. Now his smile turned condescending.
"That will only last until you try to move. I suggest you do not, until others come to fetch you."
She nodded, realising she shouldn't talk back to someone who probably had been healing people for longer than she had been alive for.
"Is there a reason you can't heal me fully then?"
"As always, there is. The master believes that when people are undergoing the basic phical... No, that is not right. Phycal? Physal?"
"Physical?" Melena ventured.
"That is the word, thank you. Physical training. The master wants those people to learn how to endure pain. I think he is completely wrong in that aspect, but as in all things, I must obey him. Your mentor, Evon, has asked me to alleviate as much of it as I was allowed to, and tried to persuade me to do a bit more."
Liriras' large eyes focused on her and she shifted slightly under the intense stare.
"He is quite careful with you, you know? He asked me to heal you properly. That he would take the blame for any consequences when the master found out."
"When? Not if."
That condescending smile again!
"Yes. When. I believe you shall not see him again until tomorrow. Evon is currently having a chat with the master about bending the rules, I believe. I have already prepared a bed for him. I have a feeling I will see him soon."

Melena felt a stab of guilt at that. She had kicked him rather indelicately despite that the man was only doing his job. He had saved her, brought her here, was guiding and training her, and she hadn't exactly been grateful in return. Even now, he had stuck his neck out for her. Given how frightened he was of the teacher, that really spoke volumes. She quietly vowed herself to do better next time, and to keep a better lid on her anger. Her hair would grow back after all. She just hoped that Evon would be alright.


Evon wished he could disappear, because he very much doubted being dead would save him from the man's wrath.
"You went against my orders, Evon," came his voice with a tired sigh. "You know that I really don't like that."
"Well, sir, you see, I didn't go exactly against them," Evon countered, wringing his hands. He wished he had a better level of self control over his body, but as it was he was sweating buckets, despite the room being cold.
"Oh really now?" Gaelus kept his voice carefully neutral and gave the man in front of him an inquisitive glare. "Do elaborate."
"Well, sir, I... I didn't ask Liriras to take away all the pain, sir. Only a bit more. She's... well, she's not used to it yet sir, and well, her performance was admirable. She held her ground well, sir. I felt she deserved, maybe, a bit of a reward for it."
"Oh really now?" he repeated, his voice becoming colder. Evon gulped.
"And in what way was her performance admirable?"
"She, well, she fought back sir."
"You are hiding something from me. Do you really think that is wise?" Nothing in Gaelus' tone had changed, but the wood started creaking as the man started emitting a powerful pressure. Evon struggled to stay upright. Why had he phrased it that way? Idiot that he was!
"She, err, sir... She kicked me in the crotch. Then again when I was down."
"Ah." The pressure disappeared. "And then you threw her sword at her, I presume, and broke several of her ribs?"
"Yes sir. And she remained defiant every step of the way."
"And because she was defiant, you wanted to be defiant as well?"
"I... No sir. I... I don't know why—"
"Then think. Don't play coy Evon. You can split your mind seven-ways, for crying out loud!" Gaelus shouted. Evon blinked and his mind raced. The man might be so far above him that he couldn't compare, but he still had some habits that Evon had discerned. One of them was his preferred vocabulary. If he wasn't using terms such as bloody or other words related to it, then he was actually very calm as opposed to agitated. Which meant that, if he thought really hard, he might actually survive this little chat. Relatively unharmed at least.
"She's a kindred spirit, sir. She hates cages as much as I do. I think that's what I find so endearing about her. Why I wanted to shield her a bit."
"Do you know what happened on the day she achieved her three-way split, Evon?"
"I... Sir?" he responded, thrown off by the non sequitur.
"She was assaulted by another student. Son of a rich noble, you know the sort. Hit her, threw her around, started choking her. Calm yourself man, the boy broke all three rules in the end."
Evon paled. When he was a student of that level, someone had broken two. Those screams still gave him nightmares from time to time. He didn't even want to imagine what happened to someone who broke all three.
"At any rate, do you understand my point?"
Another subject hop. His mind raced to get itself back on track, then draw a reasonable conclusion.
"No sir, I'm afraid not," he admitted. It got him a smile, to his surprise.
"She did not cry. She did not weep. She let it happen, knowing she could not fight it. She resigned herself to it, physically, and retreated mentally. She is a lot tougher than you assume she is."

Gaelus stood up and poked Evon in the chest.
"Don't underestimate her again. Let her hurt. Let her suffer. It will make her tough. A revenge route is not an easy thing. It requires more control than you can imagine. She must learn to calm the storm in her heart, lest it consume her when the time draws neigh. So, my dear boy, stop fucking about with your own feelings and do the damn job I assigned you to do. You're to bring her to a basic level of fitness and combat capability. She's on a bloody revenge route, she doesn't have the time for you to take it easy on her. Make her life hell. She's smart enough to understand it all. She's not like your previous student. That man might have been a genius, but he was a blood clot in an artery when it came to actually using his damned mind. Stop feeling guilty for him and think about just who you are dealing with. I suggest you set up a romantic date or some other nonsensical excuse so you can look deep into her eyes so you can see just what lies in there! You're dismissed."
"I... what?" Evon looked up, visibly confused.
"Dis—!" Gaelus began, taking a short step over to Evon. The man didn't have time to brace himself before a powerful kick send him out of the room and into the hallway.
"M—issed!"


"A romantic date?" came Kreya's voice from the ceiling. "Are you going soft?"
"Listen you old hag, I don't remember there being any rules about me having to be some kind of cold, uncaring monster."
"You've been called worse, you know?"
"Keep it up and you're about to find out why they called me that."
She smiled. They were empty threats and they both knew it.
"So what's the real reason then? If you would be so kind as if to tell me?"
"Not yet. You'll see. It's for the good of both of them in the long run." Gaelus walked to a nearby chair and dropped into it.
"Evon's progress has been barred for far too long. So I figured I'd just give him a hand. His previous student fucked up big time and it's keeping him from advancing."
Kreya performed the impressive feat of arching an eyebrow at him without having them and Gaelus relented.
"And maybe, just maybe, I would like to see him squirm."




Evon walked into the infirmary absentmindedly rubbing his chest. It hurt and he knew that he was nursing several bruised ribs, but given how most conversations with the boss went after you broke his rules, it was already quite unusual that he was still able to walk. This was obvious by how Liriras arched his eyebrows and walked over to him. It was more of a sliding step than actual walking though. Damned magical lightweights.
"You are in a far superior condition than I had expected you to arrive in, Evon," Liriras commented.
"Get stuffed, will ya." Evon didn't like the man. He was good at his job, but he just didn't like him.
"I see your mental capacities have not been impaired either. Although given how you are currently walking I am assuming you took a minor form of blunt trauma to the chest. Several bruised ribs, no doubt. Eight, if I am not mistaken."
"You might damn well be. Now tell me where my student is and get the hell out."
"So uncouth. You are aware that there are no logical reasons for your hostility and that you are acting quite aggressively in a place meant for healing?"
Evon responded with an angry huff and putting his hand on his sword. If the bugger wasn't going to get lost right there and then...

As soon as Evon's hand landed on the sword's handle, the air around Liriras started to crackle.
"Evon. You are in the infirmary. Draw that I will have a valid reason to forcefully remove you." Liriras' eyes turned a darker shade of blue and he had gone from his usual serene look to being positively hostile.
Evon considered it. Really considered it. His own magical abilities were lacking and no matter how good a swordsman he was, if Liriras went full out he'd be dead in a moment. Actually dead. Liriras didn't particularly care about Gaelus' rules when it came to people acting up in what he had claimed as his sanctuary. That it was Gaelus' infirmary and not his often escaped the bugger's mind. He wasn't too sane in that aspect. Angering Gaelus was a very stupid action to take, even if he was guilty of it himself.
Then again... It was unlikely that the Slivir'i would go all out given the damage a full on battle would cause. He contemplated both actions until coming to a decision. His shoulders sagged and he loosened his grip.
"True. Anyway. You might actually help me with some mental healing in that regard."
Liriras' anger faded away instantly. He slid closer to Evon, his eyes wide and curious.
"Oh truly? I will assist you most gladly." His eyes narrowed and he corrected himself. "Gladly assist you. I must admit to being curious. You usually are incredibly reluctant when it comes to accepting my help, even when it concerns mere physical wounds. You have never before accepted my offer to aid your wounded mind."

If Liriras had been as familiar with human body language as he was with the body, he might have seen it coming. Instead, when Evon punched him with every ounce of strength he could muster, the Slivir'i was caught unaware and was sent flying into the nearby wall, staying glued to it for a brief moment before collapsing into the ground.
Evon grinned madly.
"That was so damned therapeutic. Really needed that. Thanks a lot."

Still laying on the bed, her head half turned, Melena had witnessed the entire exchange curiously.
"Seems uncalled for," she commented.
Evon jumped in surprise at hearing her voice, as if he hadn't expected her there. He looked slightly ashamed and didn't look her in the eyes, staring at her bare body for a moment before briskly moving to cover it with a blanket.
"Well, it was. Uncalled for I mean. Guy does a good job but I can't stand him. Can't say I know why precisely, just that I have this unholy urge to beat him every colour of the rainbow every time I see his blue face. Anyway, how are you?"
"What do you think?" she hissed, a minor bit of accusation sneaking into her voice. She relented instantly.
"No, I'm sorry. All things considered I'm quite good. He did a good job of patching me up. To the extent I was allowed at least, apparently. And then a bit more. Thank you for that, by the way. And I'm sorry about kicking you in..." she coughed, looking in the opposite direction.
"No harm done. Let's get you out of here. Get some food in you. I..." He trailed off, unable to ask her to let him look into her eyes. Gaelus had made it sound so easy, dammit. Melena turned to look at him, curiosity winning out over her feelings of shame. He met her eyes for a brief moment before looking away, shaking his head.
"Nevermind. Up you go."
"Wait what are you—Evon!" she shrieked as the man indelicately picked her and the blanket up, threw her over his shoulder and walked off. Previous decision to be nicer to him forgotten, she screamed and trashed wildly, hammering her fists down on his back. He responded in his usual manner by slapping her hard on her rear and telling her to pipe down. She swallowed down her next scream and saved her breath.
"You arsehole! Get your shoulder of my damned ribs!"
Evon froze instantly and had the decency to turn red in shame.
"Oops," he whispered, immediately sliding her off his shoulders and holding her in a princess carry instead. He met her eyes rather guiltily and was taken aback by the roaring anger that was blazing brightly in them. This time he didn't look away. He locked her eyes in place and looked deeply into hers. From the corners of his eyes he saw her turning red, but she refused to look away as well, her anger making her hold firm.


It felt like an eternity passed before Evon looked away and Melena wasn't sure how she felt about it. She was furious at him, in some ways, mostly because him casually throwing her onto his shoulder had frigging hurt! If it had been done with a purpose she might, keyword being might, have not minded too much, but he had plain and simply, stupidly forgotten. The look they had shared had felt invasive, but pleasantly so in some ways. She knew the Mansion was messing with her in more ways than one and she started to suspect there might be some physical influences at work as well, even if she had not the faintest idea how that could be pulled off. She idly wondered if that influence was to blame for the strange mixture of emotions she felt the entire time. They had definitely spiked during that short interaction.
She had the impression that Evon had been searching for something when he had looked at her, but had no clue what. She idly wondered what he had been looking for. Then she looked up at him and saw a mix of awe and wonder in there and for some reason it ticked her off.


Evon slowly shook his head as he continued walking towards the mess hall, before redirecting himself towards her room. She needed some new clothes first. No doubt there'd be several sets of spares already present there. People going through combat training were always given numerous sets. A very practical thing, really.
That wasn't what was on his mind though. He had followed up Gaelus' advice, much sooner than he had thought he would manage. His first attempt had been rather disastrous. He wasn't the most socially capable man and he knew it. He usually preferred playing the aloof idiot or let his swords do the talking. The second time though, opportunity had presented itself and he took it. So he had looked. And he had seen.

It was a part of him that he had nurtured ever since entering the boss' service. According to Gaelus it was a special talent that allowed him to see people for what they truly were. What motivated them, how strong they actually were, things like that. That ability had unnerved a lot of people around him. Discovering that Gaelus' was absolutely unreadable aside for seeing no limit to his strength had unnerved him in turn. He had applied that skill to Melena. He had broken through the upper layer of emotions that were easy to read and dived deeper. Eyes were the mirror of the soul after all.

He had seen a lot. Some of it he had expected. But most?
He knew she desired revenge. Vengeance. A painful and slow one. Gaelus wouldn't have offered her that chance if those emotions hadn't been genuine. He had gone in expecting to find an inferno. He had found an all consuming wildfire. He had completely misjudged her character. On the outside she appeared friendly, a bit of a wild thing, but quite civil altogether. On the inside she was utterly driven by vengeance. He had seen the extent of the wounds her youth had given her. It was a miracle that she had managed to retain her sanity. When he had rescued her, she had completely blanketed those feelings by a thick layer of apathy, which was probably how she had survived, while nurturing a tiny flicker of hope that one day she might escape her fate. He had fed that flame. He had let her become free. Then Gaelus had come and had offered her more. A home that equalled safety, for his protection would keep her from harm as long as she stayed with him. A chance to become strong enough that others would not be able to harm her. The opportunity to improve herself constantly. A future that she could grasp and control with her own two hands. And the gift of vengeance. Not through the actions of others, but one she could achieve on her own. Beloved, bloody vengeance. In a way she reminded him of Gaelus. An all-encompassing emotion that dwarfed everything else, underlined by an intellect so sharp that it could cut. He wasn't too smart himself. He was strong, decently intelligent and was by no means anything less than a dangerous opponent, but he wasn't on the level that many others in the Mansion were. He just floated about, ever since his last student had turned out to be an absolute disaster. Sure, he could split his mind seven-ways, but he felt outclassed by Melena already, even if three was her current limit. Her mind was clear and cut through obstacles that left him fumbling around, looking for a glimpse of light in the dark. She would grow up to be a person with monstrous abilities. Closely tied to Gaelus. She might avoid the entire shitshow that the factions represented, but she'd side with him. Another powerful ally for his boss. Another soldier for his ever growing army that he never wielded.

He looked at the young woman in his arms, who was still shooting angrily glares at him. He suppressed a growing feeling of fear. That she possessed a beauty and visage so stunning that most men would kill their mothers just to have a chance at sleeping with her did not affect him in the slightest. His eyes saw past that. It was the razor sharp mind behind that face that had him simultaneously concerned and captivated. Her look suddenly grew softer, tension fading from her face.
"If you're going to look like that all the time, I really won't have any fun in putting laxatives in your food, you know."
The comment made so little sense and was so utterly unrelated to everything that had happened that it made him burst out laughing.

As he carried her to her room, shaking his head, the pair resumed their idle bantering, past actions seemingly forgotten.
But neither party was fully at ease around the other. They still shared a profound trust that had grown inexplicably and impossibly quickly, one that was formed on their current relationship as mentor and student, as well as their old one of captive and saviour. Yet they remained wary. Evon feared the all consuming vengeance he knew burned within her and Melena in turn feared whatever it was that he had seen within her. She could feel his unease and responded in kind.


Far in the distance, in a room locked behind several wards of arcane nature, a dark chuckle vibrated through the room. The roar of the burning furnace could not overcome it and neither could the violent clang of the large smith's hammer as it came down on a white-hot piece of metal.
Gaelus smiled as he watched the entire exchange. His red eyes shined in the glow of the fire as sparks danced merrily through the darkness before fading into nothingness. Melena and Evon were but a small story in the Mansion, but to him it was precious. Entertaining. Vital.

These moments were ambrosia to him. Something he needed, now more so than ever. He knew he would soon have to leave the Mansion behind once more and he feared it. To his eternal annoyance and immeasurable relief time was finally running out.

Glissandi brought her hand up and a small barrier flashed into existence, narrowly fending off the blade that had come her way. Holding the blade and muttering a curse, Mina jumped back as the barrier suddenly flew her way. She tried fending it off with her blade, but to no avail. It pushed her back and she switched tactics, letting it push her over and rolling backwards, quickly getting back to her feet. The barrier dissipated as Glissandi shifted her attention. The attack itself had worked, however. Despite having narrowly countered one of the twins, Mira had made use of the opening and was now lightly pressing her blade against the Priestess's neck. Glissandi panted, sweat running down her skin.
"Stop!" barked Lissa. "You're improving, Priestess."
Glissandi sighed. "It doesn't feel like it."
"Don't let your defeats get you down. These two have you completely outclassed in speed and combat experience. They have been training and fighting ever since they were old enough to wield weapons. You on the other hand have the physical prowess of a half-drowned kitten. So, in that respect it is quite an achievement that you managed to fend them off for that long. Two against one is not a good combination either. You have to hold off both parties simultaneously and these two are notorious for taking down even high ranking Knights due to how well they fight as a pair."
Mira and Mina brightened at the praise.
"Right, off you two go. Take turns sparring with Trista, the one not sparring stands guard."
"Yes sir!" the two responded simultaneously, before running off.

Glissandi caught the towel that Lissa threw at her with a grateful nod. Towelling off the sweat, she allowed her magic to surge through her body. She didn't use any spells to alleviate her sores this time. Lissa had told her to forego that, in order for her body to adapt to the feeling. It was far from pleasant, but she understood its usefulness. It was terribly draining though. Her stamina was nothing compared to that of her Warrior companions, and the pace they'd set since leaving the city was one best described as hellish.
'At least I'm improving by leaps and bounds,' she thought with a wry smile. It was a thought that gave her a sliver of consolation, even if she still considered her current level to be inadequate.
Lissa seemed to sense the Priestess' displeasure.
"You are demanding too much of yourself, Priestess. Stamina is not something you can magically acquire. It's a slow process that requires constant training and maintenance. All of us have been training since our youth. You should not see us as feasible targets. You are already at a level that exceeds that of any Priestess who I have travelled with before. At the very least, you're the only one who lets us set the pace we want, rather than dragging us down. And you don't complain."
Glissandi threw her a questioning look.
"Well, at least not out loud," the Paladin amended.
Glissandi sighed, but did so with a smile. The Paladin knew what buttons to push by now to alleviate her spirits. Her companions were a real blessing and the events in the city had tightened their bonds. The Lord had truly blessed her. Even leaving the city had gone a lot smoother than she had expected. The day after their battle and Salixor's departure she had proposed her plans to the party, whom had all accepted it. The Squires with eagerness, obviously hungry for adventure. The Paladin with a soft, knowing smile, as if she had predicted this outcome. Given how the Captain had been waiting outside with a large escort, ready to bring both the report and the two children back to the Monastery, it was likely she had. Even Trista had seemed eager, which was a rarity. The Knight's usual stony facade had slightly cracked when she told them that she intended to chase after this Gaelus, if her party consented. It had pleased her to see them approve of her plans. Despite her original failure, the group supported her and trusted her.
She wondered how Mother Dilia would react to the report and the newcomers. She'd be undoubtedly glad to see the little girl. Humans that possessed such a bright, magical radiance were treasured by the Order. The other parts of the report, well... If Mother Dilia knew of Gaelus, then she'd no doubt sent a party after her to track them down, despite the risks. The Mother had friends amongst the Warriors, and a singular Knight or Paladin could travel significantly faster than her party. Despite her best attempts, she knew she was still slowing them down. If she did not know anything, then it meant she was chasing a truly unknown target, which was even more worrying in some ways. A being of such strength, with such influence and so many followers should not have been able to go unnoticed.

Wait a minute, she thought.
"Lissa, what was it you said earlier?" she asked, grabbing the Paladin's arm excitedly.
"That you're improving well?" Lissa asked, uncertain what the Priestess was on about.
"No, no. Not that! Stamina can't be magically acquired. Why not? Why shouldn't it be possible to boost your own senses magically? I can alleviate tiredness, heal wounds, why couldn't I boost my own physical performance with magic?" Glissandi was downright giddy at the prospect and failed to see just how much Lissa's face darkened. The Paladin reached out and grabbed Glissandi roughly, forcefully holding her in place.
"Stop!" she commanded. The Priestess froze.
"Don't even think about that!" she shouted, then relented visibly when she remembered she wasn't talking to a recruit. Glissandi eyed her curiously, knowing that the sudden outburst was uncharacteristic and there must be a good reason for it. She waited patiently for the Paladin to gather herself, rather than rushing her with questions.
"People have tried. It is a good way to rip your own body apart. How familiar are you with biology, Priestess?"
"Decently so. It was one of the subjects we had to study. We can cure an illness with magic, but we need to be able to make do without."
"Then if I compare a muscle to a rope, would that make sense to you?"
"A rope?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Yes. And if you use a muscle, it goes taut. Like a rope."
Glissandi paled. Her mind skipped the next steps and cut through it all towards the final explanation.
"Oh Lord... That's..."
Lissa blinked in surprise, obviously not having expected the Priestess to have figured it out so quickly.
"If you add magic, your strength is indeed significantly enhanced. You can forego tiredness. But the counterpart of that is that your muscles cannot withstand the sudden increase in strength. You would literally tear them with the sudden increase. Or you'd run out of energy because your blood can't flow quickly enough. Your heart might burst from it trying to keep up. Your brain would become disorientated from the conflicting signals every limb would send. Unless you can somehow enhance everything at once and keep it in perfect balance, you're more at risk of making an error due to overextending. It is much safer, not to mention simpler, to fight with your body the way you trained it."
"You're right... Lord in heaven, the amount of control you'd need to exert such vast array of enhancements at is mind boggling." She shook her head, colour slowly returning to her cheeks. "I take it this information was earned at a high cost?"
"The Warriors experimented with it, along with a number of Priests that were adept in healing magic. It was thoroughly researched, despite the costs. Eventually the entire research was cancelled. Some of it was useful. For example, I know that Trista managed to block a blow from a Troll with her shield by encasing her entire arm in magic, allowing it to hold still. She knew to extend the enhancement across her chest as well, otherwise her arm would have been blown off. It also required holding the shield in the right position so the force would be transferred equally. There is a lot that comes to play. We're intimately familiar with the physical aspects and can use such minor tricks. Mess those up and bad things will happen. Trista managed to block one blow and save a life, but the impact launched her into a tree and broke her back. She then used more enhancements to keep her back in place, allowing her to at least move."
Lissa shook her head, realising she was speaking out of turn about another Warrior's past.
"Do not venture into that terrain, Priestess. This isn't a request. This is a warning. I might be able to handle minor enhancements at best and that is only because I have a lifetime of experience behind me, and very little magic. If you try them, we'd have to gather the pieces of you across a disturbingly large area."
Glissandi nodded, her long hair waving in the wind.
"Your warning is received. I will not use them," the Priestess promised. Satisfied with the answer, the Paladin let go and walked off, going to oversee the camp. The sun was setting already and they would be up by sunrise. The Priestess sighed in relief when she remembered that since today had held a long training session, she was free of standing guard. She had originally tried to say that she didn't mind doing her part as well, but both Trista and Lissa had violently shot that down. Trista had a look of fear on her face at the suggestion. Clearly the Knight thought her capable of much, but standing guard while tired was not part of that. Given how the Knight spent virtually all of her time awake by looking around for hidden hostiles to the point it was seen as paranoia, the Priestess didn't hold it against her.
She stretched and enjoyed the feeling it caused in her sore muscles. It had been two weeks since they had left the city and she was pleased with the changes so far. A strict diet and constant exercise had started to have an effect on her and she wasn't as frail as she used to be. Nothing compared to the Warriors, but she was still glad for the changes. She found that the look suited her, even if that was vanity talking. She walked to the river, intending to refresh herself before going to sleep. Not far off she could see Mina squaring off against Trista with surprising speed.


Trista took a quick step back, allowing the Squire's blade to narrowly fly past her face. She didn't fear a sudden thrust, the girl wasn't in the right position for that. Her own blade came up again and the Squire hurriedly jumped back, before launching herself at the Knight again. Trista smiled and switched hands. The Squire's eyes went wide as she suddenly found herself wide open to the Knight's right arm and the subsequent punch forced her off balance. Rather than staying put, she fell over and rolled back, using the same trick she had used against the Priestess earlier. She could hear a soft thud when Trista's blade hit the spot she occupied only a moment before. Getting to her feet she found that the Knight was already charging her again, clearly intending on giving her no time to think. That was alright. She wasn't the thinking type anyway. She ran into the attack, narrowly fended off the thrust and crashed into the Knight. She managed to take Trista off guard with her violent outburst as blades were dropped in favour of hand to hand combat. She thought she'd have an advantage given how her knife had been in the sleeve of her mail shirt, but the Knight simply grasped her hand the moment she folded it to pull it out. The Squire cursed inwardly, she'd been read. She let out a frustrated scream as the Knight started putting pressure on her hand, immobilising it. She gritted her teeth, ignored the pain and aimed for a short punch with her free hand, but the Knight's speed outclassed hers and she found her fist harmless bouncing off the Knight's shoulder. Then her instincts screamed at her and she slid her right leg half a step forward, pulled her hands down, forcing Trista to either follow suit or let go. The Knight chose the former and Mina showed a feral grin as she stomped forward, pushing the Knight off balance.

Then she suddenly found herself on the ground, Trista nowhere to be seen.
"What?" she asked out loud, shaking the dizziness from her head. She rolled around and found the Knight standing next to her, blade in her hand again and pointed at her.
"What? But how?" the Squire exclaimed.
"I took a step back. Moved my right leg. Let you barrel past me while pulling you down. Kicked your feet away from underneath you. It was a good attempt. An equal opponent would have been downed. Not an ideal position to fight from though. What was your next plan?"
Mina was silent for a second. She didn't really had a plan beyond that. That wasn't how she fought. She relied on her instinct to guide her through a fight. Planning was her sister's strong point.
"I don't know. Just fight and use any openings, I guess," she muttered dejectedly.
Trista offered the girl a hand and pulled her up, before clasping her shoulder firmly.
"You fought well," she complimented. Mina's disappointment evaporated instantly and she thanked the Knight for the lesson, before running off to switch with Mira.

Trista smiled from underneath her helmet as the calmer girl took the place of her sister. Of the two she found Mina to be significantly more dangerous in close combat. She relied on instinct and had trained herself to follow that up in a heartbeat. In a prolonged battle however, Mira became more dangerous as she analysed her opponent. A great tactic against humans or beings that relied on brute strength such as Orcs. Utterly useless against Trolls however, if you were the front line fighter. Mira greeted her, then surprised her by launching a wild attack. Trista flinched for a second, having been lost in thought and the result was Mira staggering back when the Knight dodged underneath the slash and gave a brutal kick to the girl's abdomen. She took a hurried step to the girl, who was down on her knees and was throwing up her lunch.
"Are you al—" she began, only to be cut off when the girl grabbed her by the shoulder and a knife flashed towards the opening between her helmet and her neck.
'Ah. That's the Mira I know,' she thought with a smile, ramming her head down, making the small blade crash into her chest plates and slide off harmlessly. The girl herself, however, was left seeing stars when the Knight's full face helmet made hard contact with the girl's much smaller one.
"Sneaky. A good attempt. Get up and fight properly."
"Yes sir," the Squire responded, still dizzy from the headbutt. She slowly scrambled back to her feet, wiped off the lasts bit of vomit from her lips and took on a combat stance. Unlike her sister, Mira would only exchange glancing blows, the Knight knew, preferring to keep her distance while reading the opponent's pattern. Trista had a small smile underneath her helmet. A commendable tactic, but against experienced opponents this would backfire. The girl lacked the combat experience to understand the danger her plan posed. If someone put up a fake pattern, they could lure you in.

'Well,' she thought to herself with a grin. 'The best way to learn that is to feel it.'
She made good on her promise.




"Alarm!"
The cry echoed through the night and tore apart the blissful dream that Glissandi had been residing in. The urgency of the shout made her jump up, only to see that the rest of her party was already forming a circle around her, arms at the ready. In the darkness of the moonlit night she could vaguely see a blur running towards them, but given how nobody reacted aggressively it must have been one of the Squires. As the girl came closer and joined the circle, the Priestess wondered what the cause for alarm had be. She struggled to crawl out of her sleeping bag and held back a curse when she slipped and fell over. Not a good job for someone who's main job was to be graceful.
"Movement, sir. Slow, but big. Heading our way," Mina reported. "I couldn't see what it was, but the ground shook."
"Troll?"
"Possibly. Don't think so though, it felt different."
"Keep one eye closed everyone. Priestess, light!"

Glissandi finally got to her feet and was glad to be receiving simple commands. She was still being integrated into the team as a fighting unit, and the Warriors in turn were still getting used to having a mage amongst their ranks. The Priestess closed her eyes, another thing she had been taught as the light from her eyes when she used magic made her an easy target in the dark. She let out a soft shout as warning before light flashed out from her hands and raised to the sky illuminating the entire area. It temporarily blinded the Warriors, but their eyes soon adjusted and if worst came to pass they could easily fall back on the dark again, having kept one eye in reserve. Simple, but effective tactics.

The Warriors tensed and it took a long moment before Glissandi understood why. She felt the ground shake slightly, then more as whatever it was came closer. She felt a slight mental pressure slide past her and knew that the Knight and Paladin were casting out their aura. She mentally chastised herself and cast out a spell of her own, allowing her to see far further than her Warrior companions and with far greater clarity. The magical orbs sped in the direction of the threat, when Lissa took note and ordered her to spread them in an all round, just in case.

The orbs flew around and formed a large defensive circle, giving Glissandi the difficult task of monitoring every direction at once. One of her orbs saw a group of trees shake violently as something moved underneath the canopy and she moved them closer. What was underneath, hidden in the shade, was an absolutely massive creature, easily twice the height of a man. Recognition struck her like a hammer.
"Salixor?"
"What?"
The tall Keeper stepped out from the trees and was now slightly visible in the light, far away from the camp site as he still was, but the creature did not look good. His bark was torn and charred and the green liquid that was his life blood was leaking from countless wounds. One of his arms was reduced to a burned stump at the shoulder and he had lost an eye, a plethora of wounds covering his face.
"Oh Lord in heaven, preserve us..." she whispered.
"Report!" barked Lissa, foregoing politeness for the sake of urgency.
"It's Salixor, but he's badly wounded. Really badly. Maimed."
That shut Lissa up. She had been the only one who had gone, however briefly, toe to toe with the gigantic being and knew damn well how tough he was. Aside the simple fact that whoever had managed to wound him to such an extent would be a truly dangerous foe, if it was still alive at least, there was also the very worrying issue of him moving straight towards him.
"Ready your magic, Priestess. We may have need of it."
"He doesn't look like he's in any state to fight..." the Priestess whispered, feeling pity for the sad state the creature was in. He had, after all, saved the life of one of her party and given her invaluable information.
"Not for him. For whoever might be following him."
The Priestess went quiet for a moment as her mind processed that remark. Then the air started to violently crackle as  she drew upon her full reserves and made herself battle ready.
'Good girl,' the Paladin thought. She had indeed learned from her mistake. She wasn't going to panic this time and the entire group of Warriors could feel the shield that had formed around them. They were out in the open in a hard to defend location, but they had formed a ring of steel with veritable magical artillery in the centre.


It took several agonisingly long minutes before Salixor came into view, where the Squires kept hopping from foot to foot in impatience as Glissandi's orbs continuously kept watch in the skies. The tall Keeper, now no longer having to bend over due to being indoors and having risen to his full, impressive height, slowly walked towards them. For a moment Lissa thought that he was just taking it slow, then she spotted just how many wounds he sported and let out a quiet, vile curse. Glissandi's explanation hadn't done it justice.
"Your guard is commendable," the creature's deep voice rumbled. "But the threat pursuing you does not come from the ground. He flies."
The entire group immediately looked up, expecting an imminent attack when a laugh that shook the trees rolled through the fields. It was a pleasant sound, even if it could not hide the pain the creature was in.
"He is not here yet. I managed to misdirect him. I am glad though, to have found you and even more glad to see that you have followed my advice. I merely hope that we all can reach safety before he returns. Or before another shows up." The Keeper smiled at them, causing the Squires to tense and take a small step back when they saw just how horribly mutilated his face was.
"Any other enemies Priestess?"
"Not as far as I can see."
"Harumph. My senses far outstrip yours, humans. No one else is near."
The Paladin looked questioningly at the Priestess, who pondered her options for a moment, then chose to believe him, given that whoever was chasing him would kill him if they met again. The magical crackling disappeared and the Paladin made a few gestures towards the others. Just like that, the entire alarm phase came to an end and the group ran towards Salixor. Trista was the first to reach him and offered him her shoulder. The Keeper gratefully accepted it and leaned slightly on it and the poor Knight nearly buckled under the weight, causing Salixor to alter his stance again and apologise profusely. Trista underwent the trial wordlessly and simply continued supporting him as much as she could.

Not long after that the large Keeper was sitting down, leaning against a sturdy boulder while Glissandi, under his instructions, infused him with energy, allowing his wounds to start closing. It was a disturbing feeling to her, the creature felt as if he was a bottomless barrel. How he had remained alive, let alone conscious with those wounds was beyond her. Even Lissa was eyeing him approvingly.
"I believe I owe you humans another explanation," he began.
"As much as I wish for you to rest first, I believe that may be for the best. I take it some urgency is required?" the Priestess asked, gaining another deep laugh from him.
"You have a talent for understatement, human. Very well." He shifted slightly and moved his legs a little further away from the fire. When the Squires had lit it again, there had been a slight flash of panic in his eyes that had gone nearly unnoticed, but both the Knight and the Paladin had seen it.
"After we parted ways, I went north, in an attempt to lure all those who were chasing after Cassandra towards me, away from you. Four days after that I was overtaken. I was lucky. He caught me while I was crossing through a forest. The man, if you can call a Rogon a man, was polite at first, as he should be. We are friends, after all, even if our factions do not align."
"I hate to interrupt, Salixor, but I do not believe any here know what a Rogon is," the Priestess interjected.
"I do," Lissa said. "They're humanoid creatures with surprisingly small, but powerful wings. They have bird-like legs and four arms. Their biggest threat is their speed and their razor sharp limbs. Their claws are lethal. Their strangest habit is that their limbs do not have bones, but contain a sort of fluid that they can harden on a whim, meaning they can attack from the strangest of angles. They are not pleasant opponents."
"Indeed, that is what a Rogon is. And this one has trained with Gaelus. You can add strength and an impressive magical array to his abilities. Combine that with his impossible speed..."
"He could hurt you?" the Paladin asked.
Salixor's large eye narrowed as he looked at the Paladin, remembering their previous encounter.
"Yes, human," he simply said. "He could. As you can see."
The Paladin gritted her teeth.
"He asked me what happened to Cassandra and to hand over the items, or at least steer him in the right direction. I told him she was dead, a well deserved fate, and that I was still hunting down the items. He... did not believe me where it concerned the latter. He had evidence of his own that a party of the Order had killed her and assumed I would know more. I helped cover your tracks and made mine more visible. He is a powerful man, but his tracking skills are rather lacking.
Upon arriving at the conclusion that I was not willing to give him any further information on the item, despite our previous friendship, he attacked me. I will tell you know that most creatures would not be foolish enough to attack a Keeper while he is in a forest. The forest strengthens my kin. We despise battle, but we are formidable foes none the less. I fought to the best of my ability and hurt him. Harumph. As you can see, it availed me little. I could not keep up with his speed, nor with his combat abilities. I was torn asunder. He reduced me to splinters and firewood. He spared me only because he realised I really did not know about the item, as well as due to our old friendship. He hoped I would not hold it against him. He left, going further north after that."

Salixor sighed deeply.
"I fear he will soon abandon his search and start to return. It is why I am moving south as quickly as possible. I doubt he will be lenient enough to let me live a second time, given his mission. It might be even worse when he realises that the item is quite probably destroyed and that you are the cause of it. He will come for you."

The group looked at one another as they processed just how much trouble they were in. If a being of Salixor's ability could not fight off a single enemy, what chance did they have? Lissa grinned, to everyone's surprise.
"You are not a mage. And he is a single enemy. We are not frail weaklings who shy from danger. We are servants of the Lord. If this foe of yours comes, he will find naught here for him but blades and fire." Salixor winced at the last word.
"Priestess," the Paladin said, turning towards her. "We await your orders."
"Then we move immediately. You may be willing to make a stand here, but I suggest we move south post-haste. We might be able to hold him off, or even defeat him on his own, but if others join him then we stand no chance. Salixor, given how you caught up with us I assume you are fit enough to travel?"
"I am, human."
"Then we shall set off."
"Priestess, I understand your haste but if we travel in the dark, we risk wounding both ourselves and the horses," the Paladin protested.
"I can light the way."

On the inside, the Priestess was furious. She was only just getting used to dealing with the fatigue of training and their hellish speed and now they'd have to go even faster. Part of her wanted to throw the type of tantrum a girl her age was definitely entitled to, but the rest of her told her to keep it together. She was a Priestess, a loyal servant of the Lord. She had her duty and she would not shirk away from it, her own body be damned. All she had achieved was because of Him and His benevolence and Darkness would have to swallow her whole before she'd relent in her task.

Gritting her teeth she mounted her horse, a lot more graceful than she had done the first time. The Squires quickly broke up the camp and stashed away their supplies. Within mere minutes the entire party was ready and gathered around the Priestess, who sent bright orbs of light out to illuminate a clear path. Salixor took position at the rear of the formation and the group set off, Salixor, despite his wounds and loud grunting, keeping pace with them all.


Far, far behind them, weeks of travel time on foot, a short creature darted through the sky.
"Goodness me, goodness me. So much land, so few eyes. Still, they must be somewhere," he complained. He said it with a smile. He simply enjoyed being free. Nobody telling him what to do, nobody instructing him, lecturing him, leaving him free to do what he liked doing. Flying was the very top of that list. Soaring through the sky, diving towards the ground and darting through trees and obstacles at blinding speed was simply exhilarating. The wind rippling through his feathers, gravitational forces pulling on him as he performed insane feats of agility just because he could. His mind briefly went to his friend, Salixor. It was such a shame the big lump hadn't cooperated. He didn't like fighting. He was good at it, mind you, but he didn't like it. He just wanted to fly and soar free, really. Alas, he had been ordered to bring back the item and an order was an order, like it or not. So, he'd find the group. Ask them to hand over the item. If they didn't have it, well... It would be a shame, but he'd have to kill them. Such an unpleasant task really.

Why couldn't people just let him fly in peace?




"Stop!" barked Lissa. Most of the riders obeyed the order immediately. In the case of the last member on horseback it was the horse who obeyed, rather than its rider. A sleeping Priestess jumped awake and fell off her horse, her foot getting caught in the stirrups. Salixor was beside her before she managed to hit the ground and he caught the panicking woman in time. She stared at him wide-eyed as he freed her foot and put her back on the saddle.
"We're stopping here! Make camp!" the Paladin ordered. The Squires slid off their horses and started unpacking the supplies while the Knight moved out to set out wards and scout the immediate surroundings.
"I..." the drowsy Priestess began. "Why are we stopping? It's still light out?"
The Paladin patted her horse before stomping over to the Priestess.
"Firstly, because there are a lot of armed men ahead of us. Secondly, because you are getting far too tired. You may have been fooling me for a while now, with you using magic to hide your exhaustion, but Darkness be damned, Priestess, that is how you get yourself killed."
The Priestess opened her mouth to protest but the Paladin shut her up with a sharp glare and a raised finger.
"I am not yet done. This is another piece of the so called Warrior's common sense, so keep quiet and listen. I have fought against Rogons before. They are formidable foes, but definitely not beyond what me and mine can handle. However, we are not dealing with a normal one. Just like how the average human does not measure up against you or me, just like how that witch differs from the average woman, so will this one differ from a normal Rogon. Your magic will be key in our defence. He will make you his prime target and with reason. That means you must be attentive, not exhausted. We will be a ring of steel with you at the centre, but he can attack from above, where we cannot defend from. You are already far less used to the flow of battle than we are. Your magic is an asset, but if you grow exhausted you will become a hindrance rather than a help. So. We stop. We rest. And we pray to the Lord that the creature is not yet near."
Glissandi sighed deeply and cast her eyes down. She didn't even want to counter the argument anymore. She was too tired. She had tried to hide it, to let speed be their watchword. Now she realised that doing so was a grave tactical error. She tried to chastise herself for it, then decided that she could do that tomorrow as well. She had spent everything just trying to stay in the saddle and had been clinging to the reins with desperation for the past few hours. Then the first part of what the Paladin had said got through to her and her head snapped back up. Lissa grabbed it roughly and pushed her back with blazing eyes.
"Go. To. Sleep."
Glissandi opened her mouth in shock, then closed it and timidly moved to the sleeping bag that the Squires had laid out for her. Sleep took her in seconds.


"I could alleviate her exhaustion to an extent," Salixor offered, his deep voice rumbling through the small clearing. Lissa finger shot up like a sword.
"Don't you dare, you overgrown log, or I'll use you for firewood. She needs to learn that actions have Darkness be damned consequences. Lord above, what a mess. Trista! Stop scouting and get back in the saddle! Find out what those guys up there want!" she shouted, stomping over to the horses, leaving an annoyed Keeper behind. His angry harumph vibrated through the ground.
The soldiers that were a few hundred metres ahead didn't worry her. They had been flying the flag of the Trivistan Empire after all, meaning they were friendly. Allies even. Still, for such a vast number of troops to be up and about meant a military action was taking place and while steering the party straight into a war was something to be avoided at all costs, there would be a lot of added safety if they could link up with them for a while.

She took care of the horses as Trista rode off into the distance, quickly drawing the attention of the Imperial troops, who immediately responded by sending out a patrol to intercept her. Lissa could only vaguely see them talking, but before long the Knight accompanied them back to the main force. From there on out it took an agonisingly long time before the Knight reappeared, followed by a surprisingly short man wearing a long chain mail vest, and his four-men escort. As the Knight came closer to the camp she held halt and saluted.
"Paladin Lissa, may I present to you Colonel Luthir from the Trivistan Empire, commander of the seventeenth Battalion of Heavy Infantry. Colonel Luthir, may I present to you Paladin Lissa, head Paladin of the Fortress-Monastery of Saint Guderia. May the Lord shelter you both."
With that said she motioned the four escorts and assigned them positions around the camp. The four men looked at one another briefly, then their leader, before nodding and falling in line.

"May the Lord bless you for coming over so swiftly, Colonel," Lissa said, giving the tiny man a handshake.
"It is my pleasure, honourable Paladin. I have fought with others of your Order in my younger years. I hold you and the Order in high esteem. The Lord has capable servants and I am always glad to lend them a hand. Alas, I am in a hurry, so let us dispense with the pleasantries and come to the core of the matter. Is there anything I can aid you with?"
"Possibly so, Colonel, but I lack information at the moment. Where is your battalion heading?"
"That could potentially be classified as a military secret, were it not that our foes will not be able to react in time. We are headed to the southern border, towards the Maltora Kingdom. It would appear they have moved the entirety of their armed forces to the south, launching an attack towards a city."
"A singular city?" asked Lissa, eyeing the Colonel dubiously.
"Yes, I was as surprised as you are when I heard the news. Apparently this city is incredibly well defended." The way he voiced it made it clear he doubted the veracity of that statement.
"No doubt they want to take it down with haste, lest their many enemies swarm them." The Colonel's coughed drily as he waved towards his men.
"As you can see, their plan clearly failed. Anyway, that is the task I was assigned. I am to meet up with several other battalions at the border. The Empire is planning on launching a large scale offensive into Maltora." He nodded towards the Paladin, indicating that was the end of his explanation.
"Would you be terribly opposed if we stayed near your column then?" Lissa asked, plans forming in her head. She knew the contents of a heavy infantry battalion well. There were still a decent number of mages in there as well, which would greatly enhance their defensive power. Their foe might be a powerful adversary for the five of them, the still recovering Salixor excluded, but throw another five to six hundred men into the equation and things became very different. She threw a quick look at Salixor and was surprised to see unbridled fury on his face. She looked at him for far too long and the Colonel followed her eyes. The tiny man jumped back and drew his sword with surprising speed.
"Darkness!" he shouted. His escorts, hearing his scream, returned immediately and formed up around him, somehow missing the giant Keeper entirely, even though he was standing by the side of the road.
"Harumph. Drop that blade, tiny manling and answer me!" the Keeper roared. The sound reverberated through the surroundings and a flock of birds took off from a nearby tree. With a shriek the Colonel dropped his blade, taking several steps back. His escorts, who hadn't been able to miss the giant tree-man roaring at them, were struggling to keep their horses under control and were generally failing at that.
"That city they are nearing, does it carry the name of Lanas?" Salixor shouted, stunning the Paladin through the sheer volume of his voice. She had never heard genuine anger in his voice before.
"I don't know!" the man yelled, falling over in his haste to get further away from the giant.
"Salixor!" shouted Lissa, getting over the initial shock.
"Darkness be damned, what's gotten into you?"
"You do not understand!" came the quick response. The Keeper threw his long arms in the air in desperation as worry manifested itself on his face.
"If the humans attack Lanas, countless will die! Lanas must not be besieged! Ever!"
"Well the city'll be gone soon. No walls can hold off their army. They're a well trained force, even if they're not our equals," the Colonel muttered.
"You fool!" the Keeper bellowed. "That is besides the point! Lanas is his city! If it burns, so will Maltora! You do not cross him! His vengeance will darken the world and cover it with blood! It mustn't happen! Such a calamity must not come to be!"

The Keeper turned to Lissa, worry having been replaced with panic.
"I can't let so many beings be hurt. I must go and try to keep it from happening. Maybe I can convince the humans. Make them call off. I must hurry. I wish you luck in your quest, but I must depart now. I cannot let this happen!" he shouted, before stomping off. A dumbfounded Lissa watched him sprint off, the ground shaking violently under his steps. Within moments the gigantic Keeper was reduced to a tiny spot on the horizon, before even that faded.
"I... Paladin, by the Lord, what was that creature?" the Colonel asked, eyeing the distant horizon suspiciously.
"An ally of sorts... One who answered some questions and raised many, many more," the Paladin muttered dejectedly, annoyed at his sudden departure and not having the answer to any of those questions.
"Try to forget it, Colonel. To return to our original topic, we are being chased by a dangerous foe. A Rogon, if you are familiar with them?" The Colonel nodded, much to her surprise. The tiny man was well learned if he knew of the avian creatures.
"One of them is chasing us. He is highly trained however and as such poses a threat to our small party. Our Priestess is already exhausted from dealing with a powerful witch earlier and we have set an exhausting pace ever since."
"Consider it done, Paladin. You are welcome amidst our column as well. You would be safer there and you could rest within the wagons as well. We would be honoured to have you with us. Your presence would be quite the morale boost to my men. How far is it that you need to go?"
Lissa made a small bow. "I thank you kindly for your offer, Colonel, and I shall gladly take it." With Salixor gone, she had no reason to stay apart from the soldiers anymore. Linking up with them would be a blessing she thanked Him for.
"We were heading in the same direction as your forces. It appears that, just like the Maltorans, we too have unfinished business in this city they are after."
The Colonel picked up his sword, sheathed it and saluted her.
"Then you'd best hurry, Paladin. Or there won't be anything left of it, strange predictions of mythical creatures aside."


Less than an hour later the party was comfortably riding inside a wagon that had been cleared for them. Lissa and Trista were beside it, standing guard despite being at the very centre of an armed column and the ring of mages that had subtly been stationed around them. Mira and Mina were taking turns steering it, while the Priestess, who had somehow slept through the entire event, was still sleeping soundly inside it.
Lissa could hardly wait until the Priestess woke up. Salixor and Gaelus were completely unknown factors and Salixor suddenly stomping off had left her at a complete loss. Whatever it was, it had turned a powerful being into a panicking toddler. Something even a near death experience hadn't done to him. What really worried her, however, was the way the Keeper had phrased it.
Countless would die... she thought to herself.
Well that can't be good.




It took a long, long sixteen hours before Glissandi finally woke up. During that time, Trista had to resort to distracting Lissa with quick and silent conversations, using nothing but minute hand gestures. The Priestess had fooled Lissa by using magic to alleviate her fatigue and that had thoroughly angeredthe Paladin. She hadn't taken the discovery that the girl had been running on fumes well. The Paladin knew that the Priestess needed her sleep, but Lord above that didn't stop the temptation to just shake and shout her awake. On top of all that, the existence of Gaelus still unnerved her and she, although she would never admit it, did look towards the Priestess for guidance. She was a Warrior, she dealt with threats up front Darkness be damned, not all this finicky thinking. Now, however, she was finally up and after having asked and received an explanation for their new situation, the Paladin and the Priestess were discussing the situation and Trista could finally focus on being her paranoid little self again.Honestly, it was a tremendous improvement over having to hold a nervous Lissa back.

"Salixor left?" asked Glissandi, stifling a yawn.
"Stomped off there and then."
"You didn't try to stop him?"
The look Lissa shot at the Priestess made it clear the elder woman doubted her sanity.
"Yes Priestess. I was planning to stop a creature twice my size and several times my weight by standing in front of him while he's stomping off."
"Cut the sass Paladin, I just woke up," the Priestess grumpily replied."
"Oh reaaaaally? And how come you were that tired, hm?
Glissandi realised she was stepping on thin ice and decided that the only way to avoid earning a lecture that would scorch her ears off was redirecting the conversation.
"I must admit I am confused. Can you repeat the exact phrasing he used?"
Lissa quickly told her everything and was half pleased and half worried when the Priestess frowned.
"That isn't good."
The Paladin rolled her eyes, which earned her a glare from the Priestess. Mina, who was sitting next to her sister at the front of the wagon, shook her head. The two were going to be at it all day if she had to take a guess.
"I'll elaborate. Salixor, a being of great power, who was mauled and maimed and didn't seem terribly bothered by it, panicked when he heard of the city being besieged. His fear was not aimed at the loss of people inside the city, but what would happen as a consequence of it."
"I followed up to that point, yes," the Paladin interjected. Glissandi shushed her.
"A full city. The entire army of a kingdom. He did not fear their loss. He did not mourn their deaths."
"I... Don't follow," Lissa reluctantly admitted.
"Don't you see? That means he fears what will happen after! He fears what that mysterious master of his will do if that city falls."
"I... Yes. And?"
"If you were to fight against this column, right here and now. How many men could you take down?"
Lissa was quiet for a moment as she looked around.
"With the element of surprise, given time—"
"No, you draw your sword and fight them right here, right now."
"I could probably kill a dozen before they'd overwhelm me."
"Right. And with the rest of the party?"
"Without mages interfering on either side, at least fifty. Possibly even a hundred. We'd tire out eventually and then we'd die."
"And how many men do you think Maltora has at its disposal?"
"A lot?"
"Four hundred thousand by the last counting."
"That is... A lot of men."
The Priestess snapped her fingers and her blue eyes drilled deep into Lissa's.
"Salixor. Dismissed all of those. As not important.. Four. Hundred. Thousand. Men.
"I understand the importance of that but—"
"Lord give me strength. It means that Gaelus is capable of dealing with all of those and then kill countless more! That means he's either an absolute monster of has an army at his disposal the likes of which we've never seen!"
"I... Lord in heaven, that can't be right... Can it Priestess? I mean, nobody's that strong. Even the strongest of our Order would fall if they had to fight alone. Numbers carry a significant weight in any engagement. That would mean he has an army of his own, but how could he have an army of that size without us knowing?"
"That I don't know. That is what worries me. How can a force of his strength come to be without anyone else knowing? The Order has people out gathering intelligence everywhere! The idea that we have such a massive gap in our defences is preposterous!"
"Then are you sure it is wise for us to go there? If a battle of that scale erupts, there is nothing we can do against it."
"That is true, but I think we might be overlooking a third option," she said after thinking for a while.
Lissa blinked. "I... What?"
"His strength may not be an army, or personal strength. It might be something entirely different. He is knowledgeable, isn't he? He may know how to, someway, through some means, ruin the harvest. Maltora is a kingdom focused on farming export. If their harvest failed, countless would suffer, starve and eventually die."
"Then why the entire assumption that he has an army?" the Paladin asked, not able to follow.
"Because that seems the most likely outcome. However."

Glissandi raised her hand.
"If I am confusing you, then I have reached my goal. Gaelus is a completely unknown factor. We know nothing of him, save for his name. We know not if Salixor speaks the truth or if he was simply overly impressed by his master's prowess in some fields. All that we know for sure, the Lord preserve us, is that he has very capable people serving him, not dissimilar to how our Order sends out parties. So we must gather more information, even if it costs us our lives. I do not gamble with them lightly, Lissa, but can we leave such a threat running loose without knowing what he is or what he can do? His abilities? The power he has at his disposal?"
Lissa humphed, then grinned.
"So what you're saying is you want us to stick our collective heads into the lion's mouth and see if it bites, and if it does then those who have seen it will know the lion for what it is."
"A crude analogy, but yes."
"Then say so from the start! You damn clerics are way too wordy for your own good!" she shouted, roughly messing up Glissandi's hair, who vainly tried to get the Paladin to stop.
"One way trip to possible suicide against a foe who might be a smart bunny or a ferocious lion. Heh. Lord, you sure make my life worth living," the Paladin laughed, exiting the wagon.

"You know, she's starting to like you, Priestess," Mira said, turning her head to the woman only a few year older than herself.
"Does she now? It does not feel like it, Mina." Glissandi sighed as she started the arduous task of putting her hair back in a proper shape.
"Mira, Priestess. And she does. Us Warriors are very physical. We're not very good with words." The Squire shrugged.
"Given how she's starting to manhandle you, that means she's accepted you as one of us."
"I... I did not know that."
"I figured you didn't," the Squire said with a shrug.
"I may be speaking out of turn, Priestess, but you have earned our respect as well." Her sister grunted in agreement but kept quiet.
"Don't know about Knight Trista though. She's always quiet. I heard a lot of horror tales on stupid Priestesses however and you're really a lot better than I feared you'd be. Certainly better than how I thought you were when we first met."
"Thank you Mira. I appreciate it."
The Priestess moved through the wagon until she was directly behind the girls.
"Although if I were you I'd be very careful with voicing that," she said in a conspiratorial tone.
"You told us to speak your mind, didn't you?" the girl asked, hesitation in her voice.
"Yes, but I can feel Lissa's angry glare burning through the canvas.
"Oh..." the girl whispered.
"Mira!" came Lissa's harsh voice.
"You're sparring with me the evening! The entire evening!"
"Yes sir," muttered a dejected Mira. Mina, sitting next to her sister, burst out laughing.




Glissandi watched the twins pair off against Lissa. It was an incredibly fast paced fight. Lissa was like the calm in the storm with the twins twirling around her. Trista was sitting beside her and providing the Priestess with commentary and was doing so with her usual lack of emotions. It had been an idea of the Paladin to improve the Priestess' knowledge of combat, given that they could hardly practise it directly with her. A Priestess landing on her behind and eating dust wasn't good for their general reputation after all and it gave them all something to do. Boredom had started to strike quickly after a few days of travelling with the Battalion.
"Whenever one of them attacks the other moves towards the Paladin's blind spots."
"What constitutes a blind spot?"
Trista gave her a look of slight wonder and the Priestess realised that the Knight found it weird that someone could not know that.
"Raise your left arm. Head height."
She did and tilted her slightly so she could keep looking at the Knight.
"You turned your head," Trista said, before turning her attention back to the fight.
Glissandi frowned at the Knight for a moment before she understood. Blind spots. Anything beyond your range of vision.

Mira ran in and delivered a heavy blow with her buckler while Mina, who was behind the Paladin, rushed in from the back. To the Priestess' surprise the Paladin didn't block the blow, but whirled around, tripping a surprised Mira and causing her to crash into her sister. The Imperial soldiers around them applauded the cunning display.
"Never overextend in an attack. Keep your senses sharp. If you can feel the attack, your blind spots are reduced by a significant factor. Overextending needs to be avoided as well. It puts you off balance. Balance is key in all fights. If you overextend and succeed, you are stupid and lucky. If you fail, you are stupid and dead."
Glissandi nodded as the Paladin tapped both Squires on the neck with her blade before sheathing it and walking off. Trista hopped off the coach box and went to join her superior. A sore Mina and Mira waved at the surrounding soldiers who laughed and wished them luck, before they too returned to their duties.

The girls took off their helmets and laughed, playfully punching each other against the shoulder. The look they exchanged told the Priestess they were somehow talking about the fight with each other. Then Mira caught the calculated look in the Priestess' eyes and their communication stopped. Whatever it was, it was clearly something the twins did not want to share. Glissandi walked over towards them and joined them on the coach box. She found climbing the thing a lot easier now than she had done in the past. She really had gained a lot of strength since she started travelling, even if she was still laughably weak compared to the others around her.
"That was an impressive fight," she complimented them.
"Impressive? Hah!" Mina let out a barking laugh. "The Paladin's one of the very few who can hold off both of us at the same time and makes us eat dust!"
"Is fighting two opponents at once really that hard?"
"Oh yeah!" the impulsive girl added before shoving her head into a bucket full of water. When she pulled it out she sighed deeply in relief as the cold water ran down from her face.
"Word to the wise, never fight two as one. I know the Paladin had us sparring with you, but we really held back. If I kick you in the head from the front and my sis kicks your ass from behind, you're down and dead before you can think."
"Sister!" Mira shouted, aghast.
Glissandi smiled and waved the comment away. Talking with the girls was refreshing. They were incredibly capable, yet reminded her of the young Aspirants back at the Monastery. Innocent, full of life and really not holding back. Mina far more so than Mira.
"So I take it the Paladin is all the more special then because she can hold off both of you at once?"
"Oh she can do more than that! She can kick our butts from here to the Bastion and back with ease if she wants!" Mina exclaimed, oblivious to the worried looks her sister was sending her way. She tumbled backwards, rolling inside the coach and just laid there, stretching, looking up at the canvas ceiling.
"She's incredible, really. She can sense our attacks, react to them with blinding speed, which ain't a small feat. You ever worn one of those suits? They weigh a ton! She's not having much issue with us either! Which is really damn great!" she shouted, throwing her fists up in the air. "Back at home nearly everyone was avoiding us because of it. One on one, two on two, damn near nobody wanted to spar with us anymore. Two on two we damn near beat everyone and the Knights didn't like losing to Squires and the good Paladins were never at home. So they just gave us chores and chores and chores!" the Squire complained.
Glissandi chuckled.
"Washing dishes, cleaning out stables, setting tables?"
"Oh yeah!" Mina nodded enthusiastically, sitting back up. "And weapon maintenance. Dusting out old armouries! Fetching materials for the smiths! Lord I hated that!"
The Priestess nodded amicably. "I understand."
"You do?" Mina asked, looking questioningly at the Priestess.
"Well, I never had to help blacksmiths or maintain weapons, but we had libraries." Her face contorted as she held out her hand and shook it back and forth.
"I had to copy a lot of manuscripts at times. Days on end." She leaned forward and gestured the Squires to do the same. Heads close together, she whispered conspiratorially. "I know it's a sacred task from the Lord, but there were times I just wanted to set fire to it all so I'd never have to pick up another pen."
Mina started laughing out loud, but quickly brought her hands on top of her mouth. Even so she could still not contain her laughter and just shook while tears ran down her face.
Glissandi smiled at the sight. Apparently the Squire took great delight in imagining the prim Priestess setting fire to a library.

Mira gave the Priestess a very vocal look.
Why are you trying to befriend us?
The Priestess answered the pointed look with a simple smile.
"You know, I'm happy I can speak with the both of you like this. Fewer rules. No chores. Nobody nagging."
Mira raised an eyebrow, wary that the Priestess took such a frontal approach.
"I'm new to all this," she explained herself, gesturing around. "I have never really left the Monastery before. All I know from the world I have learned through books. I know nothing of fighting and while they stuffed me chock full of knowledge about all sorts of things, I am discovering more and more that I really know very little. Then all this constant training. Sometimes I just want to be able to pause it all, can you understand that? Just... be me for a little while. Not the Priestess."
Mina nodded emphatically but Mira remained wary. Mina responded to the wary look by elbow-stomping her sister in the side. Glissandi winced at the blow.
"You know Priestess, you're alright. I always thought your kind was supposed to be stuck up, but you treat us fairly and don't dismiss us as if we're too young to tell Light from Dark. So in a way, we're lucky to have you as our lead woman."
Mina rolled back a bit before jumping to her feet in a surprising feat of athletics.
"Then again," she continued with a broad grin, "you can bless the Lord that he didn't saddle you with some of the other Squires. There's real lazy-bones and idiots amongst those. You really got the cream of the crop with us!" She winked and Glissandi laughed at the shameless girl.

You idiot! Stop trusting her so much! We barely know her! The thought Mira sent out was like a needle poking in her brain and Mina barely managed to stop herself from turning around and punching her sister's lights out. Instead she answered differently, sending a full blast of emotions back. She relied on her instincts, like she always had and those told her that the Priestess could be trusted. The strength behind her own thoughts made her sister wince slightly, something that immediately caught the Priestess' attention, who asked if she was alright.
"I'm fine, Priestess. That blow my sister gave me early stings a bit still," she lied smoothly.
Glissandi nodded emphatically and continued onto a new subject.

"So to breach on something we all have on our minds, what do you think about this Gaelus character?"
"You're asking for our opinion?"
"Well, last time you brought Cassandra's motives to attention, did you not? You tend to think differently than the rest of us, maybe you can spot things I have overlooked."
Mina nodded, Mira glared and the Priestess waited.
"I think he's dangerous."
Mira rolled her eyes and started coughing like mad a moment later when an angry sister rammed her elbow into her side again, a lot harder this time.
"I overheard your talk with the Paladin. If he can kill that many people... I don't think you can do that by hand. No way. That's just impossible. And in fighting, well, you can kill a lot of people on your own but if he wants to kill the entire Maltoran army he needs an army of his own. He has these special people around, right? But even so he'd need a lot of them to do that. I don't think he has that many. Even the Order would be hard pressed to field that many people in one go and we are a nation in our own right."
The Priestess nodded. So far the girl's thoughts went along her own.
"But what if he can make diseases?"
"What?" the Priestess asked, blinking.
"You said that he could maybe ruin the harvest and cause people to starve, but that still is a lot of land and people would start paying close attention after a while. It also takes too much time, by the time he'd travel around enough to visit every field, most would be harvested and be put under heavy guard. But sickness doesn't need that. People travel all the time. I remember... Mira, what was it called again?"
"The Touch of Darkness," her sister coughed.
Glissandi paled. She remember reading about that dark part of history. An incredibly virulent plague. It had started somewhere in the far north. A lot of people assumed it was a curse, because the firsts one to fall ill had been an expedition in an ancient ruin. The plague had run rampant through the northern countries for years and only an absolute quarantine had saved them all. If you caught the plague, you lived on for roughly two weeks without any visible symptoms, then they would strike in a single day. Black spots all over your body, aches and pains everywhere and before the day would be over, you would be dead. Burning the dead hadn't stopped the plague. It had brought upon near total destruction of the northern nations. Scratch that, it had brought total destruction. Less than one in fifty thousand had survived. There had been survivors scattered here and there, but the nations themselves were gone. Even now few people dared venture north, even if the event was over a thousand years ago. It had been well documented thanks to the parties of the Order that had travelled there in an attempt to heal the ill. They had written everything down in neat accounts, before succumbing as well and had given the order to cut off the north from the rest of the world.

Mina nodded.
"If he could somehow create something like that..." she continued, before falling silent as she saw Glissandi's face.
"Lord preserve us all. I had not thought of that. If he can do that, then we are all doomed."
She rushed to her feet and all but jumped off the coach box.
"Colonel!" she shouted. "I must sent a message to my superiors! To yours as well! It is of the utmost urgency!"

Inside the coach the twins looked at one another, the sheer size of the threat they were facing finally dawning on them.
Mina looked at her sister for a good long while before speaking.
"Bet you a gold coin I'm right."
Mira responded by whacking her sister with her buckler.

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Chapter 10

King Radolf sighed in relief when his scouts reported that the city had finally come into view. He motioned for the long columns behind him to halt. It had taken them far too long to reach the Darkness damned place. He knew the Trivistans were eyeing his beautiful Maltora and did not like leaving it undefended for too long. Still, the knowledge held in the city of Lanas would be worth it. If they could capture it quickly. He turned around and looked at the massive army behind him. Four hundred thousand men, all well armed and well trained. Heavy and light infantry formed up in neat ranks. Archers and crossbowmen standing at the ready on the outskirts, surrounded by pikemen. Beyond those were his heavy and light cavalry units as well as a minority of horse archers. In the centre of the massive formation were the engineers along with the essential supplies needed for the siege weaponry they'd build. Spread around the units were thousands of mages, providing support for his combat units. Those brave men had been busy the past weeks. What should have been a simple trip through undefended lands had turned into a tactical nightmare when it had appeared. That damnable creature of the Dark. It had shown up one night, unannounced. Frost forming wherever it went, red eyes full of hate staring at them. It had simply shown up at the front of the army and charged them, letting out a ghastly scream. The first line had held firm and the creature had simply floated through the gaps in their formation, had gone straight for the officer in charge and had...

King Radolf suppressed the urge to throw up when he remembered the man's remains. The creature had caused him to explode from the inside out. Spears, swords, maces, arrows or bolts had all proven ineffective and even magic hadn't seemed to cause it a lot of harm. It had disappeared quickly after the first strike, only killing a handful of men, but promising bloody vengeance on them all. That they'd all die.
Over the course of the following days they had discovered that massive amounts of magic forced it to retreat, but if they actually caused damage they did not know. It never killed many, but despite that it had put fear into everyone's heart. Prayers and holy symbols had not kept it at bay and more often than not his scouts simply vanished, no doubt reduced to bloody chunks. The Lord be praised, the creature had left them alone after two weeks.

Then there were the damned traps. He had originally hoped that his army would be able to approach the city fairly unnoticed, as far as that was possible given the sheer size of his forces. He had, at first, managed to overwhelm all the scouts and had actually grown confident that they could pull it off, when a single one managed to slip their net. He had seen the damage that caused. All the enemy scouts had been capable and had taken many of his own men down with them. He wondered what kind of city it could be, if they produced men of such level.
The one that managed to escape bothered him still. His own scouts were capable men as well and they had been accompanied by hunting dogs. When he had visited the location where his men had last seen the enemy scout, he had found that the entire section of the forest had been reduced to ashes. No doubt a powerful mage had interfered. A very powerful mage.

So the man had gotten away and as a result the entire pathway was littered with traps. They were quite inventive too, he would make use of them himself in due time. For now he was on the receiving end and he liked them a whole lot less. They were costing him valuable time and men. Large pitfalls, boulders that rolled down from a hill. Lord shelter them, there were trees that exploded when you got near them. Not even his mages had figured out how those traps worked. Everyone was wary of trees now though, which had costed them more time. He had hoped the problems would lessen when they finally left the forest, but that hope had been smashed thoroughly. The farmlands had been burned. Wells had been poisoned. Anything that could aid them or sustain them had been destroyed, sabotaged or taken into the city. For one Darkness damned moment he had believed that to be the extent of the troubles the citizens of Lanas could inflict on them.

Then the fucking road had exploded.
It had only happened once and the how of it had left the engineers and mages stunned, but that had not availed the seventh Company, who had been the vanguard when it happened. Now there was no seventh Company and the army had slowed down its advance even more.

But finally! Finally! That slow track was over! The city was only a few hours away and the siege would finally commence. He had relayed his commands to his officers and the massive army was spreading out, moving carefully, wary of more traps. They would encircle it and build their siege weaponry and then start the assault post haste. No more wasting time. The battle would be quick, bloody and decisive.
"Tell me Farold, how do their defences look?"
"Your Highness, this city will not be easy prey. I have looked at their walls through the spyglass and... Well, your Highness, I have seen forts with less defences. Their walls are at least sixty feet high and I can only guess at how thick they are. The gate I saw is of intricate design and falls inwards, with thick beams on top. We will not be able to pull it down I fear. There is a moat surrounding the city as well. Roughly thirty feet wide if I were to guess. The walls themselves were littered with siege weapons. They are well prepared for our coming. I did not dare come too near. One of my colleagues decided to approach the city, but as soon as he came within about fifteen hundred feet he was speared to the ground for his trouble. To make matters worse, your Highness, they burned down everything in a three thousand feet range around the city. We have no cover, no trees, no houses to use. Only bare, black earth."
"Darkness be damned, this is going to be more costly than I thought. I knew they were well defended but this... Just how many men do they have at their disposal?"
"Earlier sightings indicate around twenty thousand, your Highness."
"That hasn't change then. You've done well Farold. Take a rest, you have earned it."
As the scout retreated, the King's commanders came towards him. It was time to discuss strategy and finalise their battle plans. He would be careful about this. He had lost three thousand men already, which wasn't much, but they were too high a price to pay to simply advance on the city.


Inside the city Deftis stood atop the walls.
"That was a damned nice shot, lad," he complimented a small Gnome.
"Always a pleasure, sir," the Gnome replied, tapping his hat in a mock salute.
"Can't fire any further than that though. Loses both its accuracy and the strength to properly penetrate. Too easily deflected."
"Right. No need to worry. We have plenty more tricks at our disposal. They're going to bleed when they advance."
"That they will sir. That they bloody will," the Gnome replied, fire in his eyes.

Deftis waved him goodbye as he continued his tour of the walls. His city was well prepared. The creature had returned a few days earlier and had bought him the time it had promised. Though nobody but him could see it, the being was gravely wounded and had retreated to its station to heal. Should the city fall, it would be the last line of defence. Only he knew what the creature guarded. The city existed to both supply the Mansion and to protect the artefact that lay deep beneath the city. He understood the creature's burning desire to protect it very well. Both of them shared the same master after all, and his commands were akin to a divine mandate to them.
Still, all his abilities, all the city's defences, they would not be enough. He would stay true to his word. The Maltorans would bleed. But he had only twenty-three thousand men at his disposal and while all of them could pull double duty as militia, only a handful could function as soldiers. If they were pushed off the walls, which would happen eventually, casualties would soar and the city hall, while a fortress of its own, could not hold them off for long. At the very least, however, they would have to rebuild their siege engines inside the city to assault it.
He sighed, but refused to give in to despair. His runner would have reached the Mansion by now. His master would not abandon the city in its time of need. Reinforcements would come. All he had to do was hold. He did not know for how long. He was not privy to the military situation in the Mansion, nor how strong his master was. All he knew was that he had a duty and that he would perform it to the last.

He froze, mid-thought. He spotted a large banner coming out of the forest in the distance, far beyond what human eyes could discern. His eyes narrowed as he gazed upon the source of his troubles. The Maltoran king. Anger rose to the surface as he slowly raised his arm.
Let's give them a warm welcome, he thought, his mind filled with rage.
Energy pooled into his hand as he raised it far above him, a massive ball of flame forming above it. It grew in size until it was as big as a large inn, before it started spiralling. It condensed itself into a dense orb as the colour slowly changed from red to blue. His anger was, just like Deftis, beyond that of a mere man.
He took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and chucked the orb at the banner.



"Incoming!" the mages shouted. King Radolf froze and turned towards the city. They were thousands of feet away, what could possible—
His eyes went wide as he saw a blue orb of fire streak to the sky, akin to a falling star. Mages rushed to the front all around him and threw defences up as best as they could. His personal retinue grabbed him unceremoniously and dragged him off, running away. It took the attack several seconds to reach his position, having to cross a massive distance, but then it hit them. The orb crashed against the magical shields and exploded, washing over them. Standing underneath it the King saw the fire in all its fury, the flames greedily licking at the edges of the shield as they engulfed it. Underneath his fear he found himself admiring the primal beauty of it all. The shields were pushed down as mages collapsed, their energy drained from the onslaught, but they held. After what seemed like an eternity the flames disappeared, their energy spent and a collective sigh of relief went through the entire group. Then they became aware of the screams. The King pulled himself out of his stupor and looked around. While his own retinue and his advisers had been sheltered from the attack, the top half of the banner, which had been sticking out of the shields, was gone, reduced to ashes. What was far worse, however, was that the same held true for the units around him. At least two hundred men were simply gone, flesh and bone, weapons and armour alike. It had all been reduced to ashes.

As officers rushed to the front to restore order, the King shared a worried look with his commanders.
"That had to be the same mage who saved their scout," Larick, the commander of the mage units muttered, as if to reassure himself.
"Lord preserve us all if it's not. One such monster is enough," the King agreed.


Deftis leaned heavily on the walls, panting. That attack had drained him, but the result had been worth it. He had not expected to be able to kill the enemy leader, but he sure had managed to put the fear of their beloved Lord into their hearts. They would not be able to predict if more attacks like that would be coming, which was great, because the simple truth was that this was the only time he would be able to pull that off. He would need to rest for a full day before his reserves would be full again. Still, it bought them time. Time for the Mansion to send reinforcements.


Far, far away, an exhausted Mandark collapsed into a comfortable bed. He had fulfilled his duty. He had brought word to the Mansion.
Utter rage drew ugly lines across Gaelus' face as he stormed through the main doors of the Mansion. They dared to attack Lanas? They dared to threaten what was his? No, he would not tolerate that. Lanas was more than just a city. More than just a supply base that provided his Mansion with all their daily needs and other necessities. It was a reliquary that held something of great importance. But beyond all that, the city was his. Apparently the world had forgotten what it meant to attack him. He would make sure to send out a grim reminder.
"Long has it been since I went to war. Long has it been since fools dared defy me."
His aura flashed around him, warning Kreya that her presence was required. With boundless rage burning within his eyes he stepped through the empty hallways and spoke the words that signed Maltora's fate.
"En shado gae. Voldram et genam."