“You don't happen to believe in mercy, do you, invader?
Can't blame you. No one really has since Kalaworth’s bargain. Including me of course! You probably could have guessed that already by all the corpse piles. Or not. You guys are kinda dull without daddy string around. And very quick to anger it seems.
So, listen, you could skewer me here, on this, frankly, beautiful marble floor. Which would absolutely ruin its resale value. Or. You could go save your family ten leagues west of your hometown. And, y’know, they definitely could be held over a pit of lava by a comically frayed rope.
I know right?!
Choices. Choices. Choices.
..........okay! Okay! You can try doing both, but please, do remember to avoid scratching the floor. I
spent alot of coin sending guys to kill your family, so i realllllllly need that resale.
(Annotary Warning: Transcript should not be propagated beyond those within a vested interest in the continued sealing of Redan. Blessed are the Warriors. Accursed are the Enemy.)
- The Enemy of Redan addressing an unknown Hero; Circa 1229 CC.
The twin moons began to retreat from the night sky, ceding ground to the coming day in orbital synchrony. A cosmic dance of indescribable giants transpiring far over the camp belonging to Duke Anglis.
One was Faybirth, the smaller of the two during this grand cycle, a glowing dot that gave off light in multicoloured hues. It lit up the world in shades of green, blue and even red when it was more testy. It was alive despite its inorganic construction, much like the barrak’kurth.A was a fact that worried many an [Astrologer]. A thing living whose movement could spark apocalypse, an Enemy capable of instant victory if it so chose.
But that was the fae’s business, it was their birthplace after all, hence the name. And they had not failed to safeguard it for a hundred Ages.
The other moon, far larger and brighter currently than its adversary, was called the Interloper. The Ancient Empires of Liernia and Volkstadt had named it so when it first graced their skies. According to the greatest [Historian]s and their Skills, the Ancients had dreaded the impact of the moon upon the surface.
But it didn't decimate the world, crossing into the Astral Shield yet barely avoiding collision by metres at its closest point. The stark white object was a terror to any Mage or [Philosopher] worth their books. An object that swung in an elliptical orbit bringing itself within arms reach, yet never inducing a gravitational disaster in its proximity. The few interfolk who traveled atop it revealed none of its secrets, hiding the Interloper’s truth to their graves. It remained one of the world's great mysteries and would likely be so until the next Heironomyius arose.
The two moons were simply wondrous as they faded across the sky giving way to the sun. It was up to the Lady’s Gift now, the sole light of the world, to spark the skies far more luminously than the two moons.
Does anything really matter?
Commander Strare Moreson was enjoying the celestial show as he ignored the papers he was supposed to be reading, abandoning those endless reports in favour of some late stargazing.
It wasn't his fault. He had been up all night, surely he could take a small break right? Maybe go for a walk in the woods or just close his eyes and let the Lady guide his dreams. He relaxed back into his chair, thinking of a time when that had been his whole existence. When he was just a ranger, stalking through the endless brush for days on end, coming back only to report and get supplied up.
A day's rest then back out there where he belonged.
Then he became a [Soldier] instead of a [Ranger].
And he was never allowed that green paradise of solitude again. All because the army couldn't lose a Pathwalker for days on end as he retreated to the forest, foolishly trying to convince the Lady to grant him the Art he desired. No, they needed his [Quick Report] and [Steady hand] to manage the thousands of men the Duke employed for war.
Fine, ill accept being a [Soldier] but could you have at least given me Skills beyond sitting on my arse all day……..
A useless plea, but one he made every day.
Please?
Yet, there he sat, behind a desk wearing the same old spectacles writing the same old reports.
“Sir?” A pretty voice trespassed upon his morose. “Um, I think there's a hole in your tent's roof.”
Unfortunately the real world did matter, with all its reports and subordinates. And even worse, the latter often came knocking.
“Yes, Captain Calin.” He lowered his gaze and glared at the half elf ranger. “I put it there.”
“Oh.” She stared at him with that 'I don't have to sit behind a desk all day’ look he hated. “Why’d you do that?”
“So I could view the beauty of the world, dear captain.”
“Oh okay……………” She glanced up. “Interlopers closer, guess it's that time of the ye-”
“Not an invitation.” He sighed. “What do you need?”
“It kinda was.” His eyebrow twitched. “But anyways. I need an extra cloak for my squad.”
“Hm, these aren't cheap y’know.” He swiped a paper out of the infinite stack spread across his makeshift desk. He hated that he knew exactly which one to pick out of the hundreds, it wasn't even a Skill, just a passive aspect of the Art. “Circanor’s factories haven't hit production yet so we’re still reliant on the continentals for paper en masse.”
He began penning the Heavendamned requisition request. As the nominal commander of the rangers resources it was his duty to give out supplies like this. It was his pleasure to give out lectures as well.
“Yet of course the Duke wants to modernise the supply chain so we have to buy the expensive Federasi goods.” His [Steady hand] saw the pen race across the pages delivering dozens of orders within its perfect lines. “Of course the prices should have returned to pre-Goldcrash levels, but the Treaty still stipulates a flat raise on export prices to Sainon despite it being redundant at this point. That's not even mentioning the tariffs and upcharges as the goods travel up a continent’s breadth. From the border Circanor is more than eager to gouge us and the godforsaken souls who run goods through Redan deserve the hefty bonus they demand. All together the goods almost multiply by a doze- ”
He glanced at the half elven captain who had now begun her own escapist stargazing through the hole in his roof. Lady’s tits, that’s gonna be annoying to fix. Prices in Athle were up for everything, most definitely including tent fabric.
“You will be quizzed on all this Captain Calin.” he sighed. “Your promotion depends on it.”
“.....something something, supply chain, Federas, Treaty?” she offered, entirely serious. “Also I thought the actual cost of the cloak would be the issue.”
Strare ran his hand through his silver hair and craned his neck over his shoulder. His medium length locks were coloured by birth, not age of course. He was far too young for that, even if his neck didn't feel the same as it audibly cracked.
“Nah, we still have a bunch of those things lying around. The Prowdrens barely even tried to counter our rangers so we didn't actually end up using a lot of our secondary supplies.” Hells, if the Strare of old had still been ranging he would’ve carved a cautionary tale out of those provincial fools. “Let that be a lesson captain, a slaughter like Merint is only a few faulty logistics away.” He massaged his collarbone while grabbing one of the lightweight cloaks out from a wooden supply crate. “Here, just take it now and file the request later.”
“Thanks commander!” She glanced up one last time before turning around. “Good luck with your uhhh………….. ‘beauty of the world’.”
The captain left as soon as she came, leaving the commander with an annoying realisation. I should have asked her why she needed a new cloak. Heaven knows Strare needed to keep a closer eye on Captain Calin and her misadventures. He would have to make up for that mistake by actually doing his job for a bit. Ignoring the sun beginning to glare on his face , his hands roved across the mess of scrolls and papers organising them into short stacks of bureaucracy. In those towers of boredom laid hundreds of reports due for Athire and Saille Dor, capital of Athle and the lands formerly known as Freika respectively.
He quickly scanned through dozens of the reports and was about to discard one but felt a twitch in his Art. Like an invisible person tapping on his shoulder, the sensation demanded he take another look at the item. Examining deeper into the lines of the paper he could feel the veins on his forehead bulging.
It was a stock ledger of the [Great General] Herran’s army, but one with a glaring mistake necessitating him taking out something he’d rather not . A {Minor Message} Scroll. A Spell imbued into a thin slice of irregular parchment, this one likely produced in Athire judging by the fine care put into its design compared to the mass produced continental version. No need for a glyphkeys or any fancy encryption, just a few simple words and it would send his words across the realm. Looking into a small hand mirror, Strare put on his coat and cap while uttering the phrase he knew like a hunderman knew fur.
“{Minor Message} Spell activate.”
In the mirror he saw himself in all his bureaucratic glory. His uniform was quite ornate, a grey military longcoat combined with a white buttoned shirt made out of quality Plainbowl linen. A comfortable, if overly formal, arrangement. Golden tassels indicating rank and various other embroidered symbols made him an instantly recognisable figure, as was the purpose of the adornments. The cap was white and grey, roughly designed after what a sea captain would wear, which was perplexing considering Athle’s lack of a coastline but who was Strare to criticise the Duke’s choice in fashion.
Though I will say the whole concept of this ‘dress uniform’ is far too continental. Of course continental often meant the concept was far more efficient and advanced, but that was a truth best left unvoiced in the type of regions that preferred to call them ‘invaders’. Such as this accursed ounty.
The silver haired commander sighed as he read out the words already formulated in his mind. “Address Herran twelve four zero two eastward. Title message ‘Query into interarmy report bound for Athire made by Quartermaster Vicis on the 4th day of the fifth month of the 10245th Common Cycle.’”
The County of Prowdre was a land of hatred. They disliked everyone, from foreigners to their fellow countrymen. It made sense, being so close to the Treaty Lands of Redan guaranteed their fair share of the fighting and thus their slice of the post war disillusionment. Plus being such a provincial land meant they would never get along with their neighbours who had begun to develop in tune with the Age of Progress. Speaking of their neighbours I wish we never left Anglia for this stupid rebellion. The [Duke of Ashes] was many things, too reliant on paper for one, but no one could doubt his loyalty to the crown and King Roste. That loyalty lugged the army into Prowdre to put down their revisionist dreams, and unfortunately it meant every report bound for the crown in Athire needed a copy sent northwest to their most loyal scion. His honour can go fuck off to Ka’arghul. Stare cursed Duke Anglis as he began dictating the contents of his message.
“This mes-, fuck, Spell restart.” He took a breath. “This message addressed to the army of Herran the Lion is concerning a mistake within your royal report.” He held the offending piece to his squinting eyes. “In the section entitled ‘portable scout locator scrolls’ and ‘mag-shield corebolts’ I'm reading an approximate 200% and 400% increase respectively in allotted stock, which we both know King Roste didn't approve.” Cocky bastards didn't even try to hide it. "With all due respect to the Lion and her might, please be aware, if you want to go behind the crown's back, dont Helldamn report it you fool, or you can just go ahead and smuggle a nice bowtie to wrap around your asshole for when a [Talonguard] comes to fuck you, YOU STUPID BASTARD………………………”
If someone was in his tent with him this would be the moment where they began fiddling with their hands or looking at their feet. Stare himself could barely resist the urge to rip the Spell Scroll to shreds, but he had a [Clear Mind] so while still seething with rage he forced himself to mutter out an amendment. “Spell activate, erase that last line.”
He hated Prowdre. He hated his job. And he hated how much he hated the quartermaster for messing up this bad. The concept of purchasing or stealing bonus supplies wasn't even the issue. Most armies of the subcontinent needed a little extra advancement in their ranks, so getting those prized continental technologies sometimes necessitated some smudging of the details. It was the failure in secrecy that was egregious though, no wonder Roste stationed the [Great General] away from the border, if this is the best the staff of Herran the Lion can muster, she may as well just hang up her Art.
“Spell send.” He said as the parchment began to dissipate into sparkling multicoloured motes of magic in his grip.
A Class is all I've ever wanted. A flutterwing flew into his tent in a blur of feathery motion. The yellow and white bird was likely attracted by the magic and began pecking at his hand thinking he was the source of its primary sustenance. Just not this one.
The [Soldier] looked up at the torn fabric that constituted his makeshift observatory. The flutterwing followed his gaze showing its intelligence. The hand-sized bird needed magic to survive, a perfectly suitable lifestyle for its home in the magically denser areas of the continent, but a harsh task in a mostly manabarren land like Athle. Yet the little bird far from home did not sulk and cry. It scavenged the motes still falling to the ground, devouring them eagerly like a starving drake or a normal caracid.
You can't whine Strare, you’ve got work to do. The bird zipped past his head and ventured out back through the hole it came from. For one i need to fix this damn tent. He did so and even without the commander observing them the world above continued its dance, Faybirth falling alongside her brother and the Gift rising to a morning well shone.
For all peoples of all lands, a new day began.
“Huh?” was Audrick’s gut reaction when Calin asked him to join her squad for a mission. It was the only suitable response, a singular sound of confusion and bewilderment.
Apparently Commander Strare, who was a [Soldier], had ordered a new range of scouting across the forest bordering the camp. And Calin, perplexingly, believed Audrick to be a good candidate to round out her team’s numbers to an even eleven.
“Well?” She had then asked. “Should be a pretty simple job. I promise its worth your while!”
Duncliffe had also been astounded but for some reason had left the decision up to Audrick, he had been pretty distracted about a job to do today that was singular in who could complete it. They did most things together but it wasn't abnormal that Duncliffe had things he wanted and needed to do without a burden like Audrick. But, it did leave him especially weak to the pretty half elf.
“S-sure,” he had replied.
Of course he had agreed. It wasn't an opportunity he had the right to turn down, and the half elf was not exactly someone he was willing to deny. So, that perfect combination of his pitiful willpower was how he found himself walking behind her through a forest, trying not to trip with every other step. He failed a lot, in part because he had to keep avoiding Dane’s glaring eyes as they bored into Audrick periodically. The man clearly disagreed with his captain’s decision making which made her making that decision even more of a mystery. The others at least didn't seem to mind his presence as long as he did nothing but walk forward, eyes down and silent along the dirt path. Which made it kind of an issue when Calin kept on talking to him.
“Have you ever been in a forest like this before?” She asked.
He had to think about that one. The forest surrounding them was lush in greenery, vines hanging low and shrubbery sprouting high, it was no Painted Waste but it was definitely abundant by any definition of the word. Too abundant i think. It certainly beat out the glades surrounding his village, with the forest boasting trees rising at least 20 metres tall compared to the lonely oaks of his home. The crowns of the trees here grew far beyond his view blocked by the thousands of viridescent leaves sprouting off the solid branches. Lizards and birds of a thousand colours darted from in between those safe havens of wood. It was quite beautiful when he got a chance to look up instead of at the ground where the trippable objects laid.
“I h-havent,” he honestly replied to Calin. “At least not one this large.”
“Makes sense.” She didn't miss a beat. “This particular range is just an offshoot of the greater Queen’s Forest, you know what that is right?”
The massive sea of green that covered much of inland Athle, inhabited by Bulwark level monsters by the Guild’s estimation. It would be strange for any child of the Clawed Kingdom to not know of it. The forest they were currently ranging through however, had no such import. It had no name at all, in fact. At least none to those who did not rely on its bounty. To those who did subsist on it, its name was simply the ‘forest’, a name as good as any.
“Yes.” He finally answered her.
“Its nice right!” Calin effortlessly talked while dodging branches, roots and uneven footing. “These forests grow from seeds that are spread by the nuts and fauna. They’re mostly mundane but they do occasionally host some magical plants such as firebriar and glassleaf. And they’re obviously filled to the brim with Athlan staples like arberry, common oaks and even a few ironwood clumps.” She cut one of the former off of a bush and popped the red berry into her mouth. “Other, more Powerful forests tend to spread through what academics call ‘climate adjustment’.” Lady’s Grace, the captain motioned like a professor without losing a single step. “The forest itself changes the sphere of Power surrounding their domain, forcing a sort of floral conformity like, for example, the growth of their signature wood such as an ironwood. The worst known case applied to forestry is, of course, the Painted Wastes but what's really interesting about the Wastes is the sheer level of ecological diversity!”
“I think the nation destroying monsters and Pathwalkers of sheer legend may also be of interest.” Dane interjected before turning a sharp glare at Audrick. “The Federasi tried to cut through it to lay a new mag-rail line to Lyrice. The retribution reverberated all the way to our side in the Quezocoraine. Arkell and Losac had to call the Treaty Council and the Guild for survival.” The blond man clearly wasn't as wanderlusted by nature as his captain. “They weathered the most dangerous forest known to man whereas you are struggling to walk through one of the most facile.”
Audrick’s attempted response was cut short by a fierce battle between his foot and a vertically gifted oak root.
“Good point!” Calin countered Dane in place of the boy. “Something more practical is what he needs! Do you wanna know the secret to not tripping over every second branch?” Lady’s Grace YES! She placed her hand across the edge of her mouth as if she was speaking a royal passphrase. “It's quite simple. Keep tripping. Until you stop.”
“...............Oh.” I guess not everything she says can be wise. “T-thanks ill keep that in mi-” He fell flat on his face, having momentarily ignored the ground in favour of the half eleven captain.
“Well, at least he’s a fast learner.” Dane said to Calin as she helped Audrick up.
“You weren't much better when you started, vice captain.” She said frostily. “The Praetors tell us of a time before Power, when all were mundane, unable to learn how to navigate a wood any other way than sheer practice.” Audrick couldn't tell who she was speaking to. But his attention was captured regardless. “King Roste recently decreed an increase in scouting against Circanor and Redan. Means the profession will only be more widespread in the next few years.” She brushed off Audrick's shoulders and continued her easy stride through the forest. “No harm in teaching a fellow soldier a few pointers.”
He really didn't like the woods, to him they were the domain of things like goblins and wolves. Threats that had claimed more than a few of his village. Compounding the lack of shelter, food and alleys to skulk in, the forest made for quite adverse conditions regarding Audrick’s survival. Even in a mundane one like this, lacking real monsters and a Pathwalker presence, he still struggled with every step. But if Calin was this insistent on including him for some reason, then he would just have to try learning a thing or too.
“.......i know that.” Dane offered, perhaps out of embarrassment or just a simple need to cede before his leader.
Calin paused as if considering his words. “I do doubt that, but here’s something you should know.” She stopped walking by a particularly large trunk and ripped a piece of bark off it's length. A honey-like liquid came with i, leading Calin to examine the golden sap that poured out of the tree’s open wound.
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“The common Athlan oak has this really tasty sap in its larger specimens.” She said, her words stringing the squad along like dolls.
She pulled out a knife twirling it in her hand before cutting into the tree and digging out more sap. She pulled out something from the depths of the trunk, some sort of metal molded into a tube by Audrick’s estimation. Contrary to his underwhelming examination of the discovery the rest of the squad suddenly snapped to attention sweeping their gazes over the tree line like the finding revealed some hidden truth.
“You see this is what a modern army would use to tap into a tree for that sap. Nothing fancy like a corebolt, just plain steel. Very handy when you're traveling low on supplies.” She held the piece up to the light. “But we don't use this in the camp. This model is much older than that.”
She paused.
“And foreign as well.”
Again, a pause.
“Friekan.”
The name of its origin thundered through Audrick’s head as she continued. “I mean someone could have bought it from the Treaty Lands.” Her tone made it clear she never believed that for a second. “But I have a better theory!”
She stepped on the largest root jutting out of the forest floor and addressed her squad now readying their bows and swords. Dane had, surprisingly, pulled out two knives instead. Audrick just stood there letting his new knife remain where it firmly belonged, not in use. The wolvish smile on their face worried Audrick as the truth began to dawn on him. Hells, why couldn't he have just said no to Calin?
“I doubt they’re traders or even warhunds.” She said with a subtle elation. “No, it seems these woods are infested with bandits.”
Helldamn, im so fucked.
The squad didn't cheer at her words, because they weren't fool, but still, their faces may as well have screamed their excitement at that declaration. Audrick imagined his own expression did not sport the same enthusiasm which must have been why Calin took him aside for a word.
“You scared?” She asked to which Audrick nodded, eliciting a reassuring grin. “Good.” She took him by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. “Fear is the instinct of survival. Temper it and it’s your tool, surrender to it and it’s your master.” Calin shoved something into his arms, a cloak similar to the one she wore over her plate. It was light in his grasp, like a billowy dress. The brown colouring of it was speckled with green flecks melding against the forest’s visage.
“I don't ask you to fight, I just ask you to watch and not run.” Then her smile returned. “Thats the real job of us rangers, to surveil and report. This is just a bit of extracurricular duty.” She chuckled in a somehow serious manner. “But if you can do that essential task, of watching without letting fear enslave you, then maybe you can keep the cloak.” And that was such a ridiculous offer Audrick had to take a few seconds to formulate a suitable reply.
“W-why all this for me?” he had to ask. If she was offering what he worried she was, it was far far too much for someone like him. It would be the second time in two days where someone was kind to him beyond his worth.
“Yeah I agree.” Dane came up beside Calin, always reliable when it came to disliking Audrick. “Why?”
“Because I said so?” She glanced at Dane. “Need there be any other reason?”
“N-no.” He blushed. “But don't we get a say in these things.”
“Of course!” She smiled. “This is an egalitarian party.”
“Then wh-”
“But I want this.” She cocked her head like a Federasi prince. “Are you going to reject your captain’s wishes so harshly?”
“...............no.” The large man backed off sulkingly resuming his glare at Audrick. It reminded him of seeing a camp hound scolded by its tamer. It seemed not even the vice captain would be able to dissuade Calin at this point.
“Yeah calm down Daney boy.” A slight young dark man with a scholarly look came up beside Dane. “I don't see any issue with giving this kid a look at what we do.” He brushed his hand through dark hair and smirked at Audrick. “Though I do wonder what he's got hiding under that mask.”
“But Leonard surel-” Dane interjected.
“Relax, it's her order and that's final.” He punched Dane’s arm playfully and examined Audrick from top to bottom. “Besides if the pup fucks up, we'll never see him again.” The words combined with his look made Audrick's skin crawl.
Leonard was not a familiar person. Audrick had obviously seen him before as one of Calin’s rangers but he had never put a name to the average face that the man held. Thus it followed that Leonard did not know Audrick well either. And that only worsened the fact that he seemed to already hate the boy. In some ways the feeling of abject dislike off the bat felt comforting, like an old friend's scent in the air, of all things Audrick felt that feeling was the most familiar to him.
“Stop trying to sound cool, Leonard.” Calin snapped at him. “Just focus on keeping your locator Spell up!”
He's a mage?!
“Do I have to?” He replied while sagging his arms to which the squad looked at him with the look you’d give a child who just called their neighbour ‘dad’.
“If we go missing because a sporebear dragged us back to its den.” Calin slowly said. “Do you want rescue to come or not?” Leonard began to reply before being cut off. “Or would you rather it slowly infest us with its spawn while we still breathe?”
“.................i would see a sporebear coming they're hug-”
“Shut up and cast!” A squad member Audrick couldn't name said while smacking Leonard across the back of his head. “Im not getting infested because of you!”
Audrick had the impression the rest of the squad wasn't as intimidated by the dark mage as Audrick was, much to Leonard's annoyance as he began to argue back at them. Him being a Mage was a surprise, that was a type of Power after all, but he couldn’t have been a good one if he was simply a ranger. Then again, him not being in the Mage corps at all was abnormal. Probably defective or really weak, Audrick decided. The lanky man was no Pathwalker after all, Audrick’s local Praetor had taught that Mages only gained that right past the First Circle.
“Don't worry Audrick.” Calin said softly to him, ignoring Leonard’s continued rebuttal against his hypothetical guilt in getting his squad infested. “Just focus on yourself, not these idiots. And worry not, sporebears don't even prowl these parts.”
Audrick actually found himself believing her words. All he had to do was watch, right? He could probably survive the forest in the meantime. Just avoid the ground, the monsters and the bandits. Surely it can't be that hard. Audrick knew better than to tempt Fate, but for just a moment he let himself hope that something could go well.
“Now then, without further ado.” Calin said loudly to her squad, instantly stealing their attention. “Let’s hunt!”
Hours passed as they scoured the forest finding yet more evidence of a bandit infestation. Mostly remnants of their little camps, with items of habitation left behind carelessly such as cloth or utensils. Calin said the bandits must have lived in the woods for months at this point;now completely certain that there were in fact thieves hiding amongst the greenery. It felt sort of wrong just how normal the domestic waste they left was.
At least it did until they found a body.
That was just another byproduct of banditry, the scarred and wary in his village had always warned him of the many victims the roving bands of Athle claimed along the highways. By the time one of the squad had called out the find, the body was far along its life cycle, or death cycle I suppose. Summers ago, Audrick would have been disturbed at the corpse;s bones jutting out of its grey flesh while maggots feasted on what was left. By now, he had seen this sight too many times before, it was no less gruesome than the slaughter at Merint or any other of the Duke’s many victories. He was much more scared of what would have caused the corpse’s demise.
The common bandit was similar to Audrick, they were men spat out by the Great War, broken by Freika's Glory and then scattered by the Deluge. Not truly ever originating from a single land’s hate but still found mostly in those war wracked nations, Circa despite its victory, Redan no longer existent and of course Freika of the Glory. Yet the broken men never never stayed in those nations of their birth. They could not go home, if theirs even still existed, they were not the same men that had left those villages and towns with glory and gold in mind.
With all that blood staining their vision, driven to madness and grief, all they could do was walk into the woods to curl up and die alone. But in those woods they were not alone. The wars left many madmen scattered across the whole of Sainon, in all the forests, plains and mountains they gathered. And knowing nothing else, they got back to work and began to war again. Not with the Knights and soldiers they had once been crushed under but instead with the passing merchant and lonely village. It was a doomed path they walked, eventually they would end up warring on those places they used to call ‘home’ and all that would be left of those men then were bandits.
Audrick understood it, he had no home as well, but surely he still had morality enough to not resort to this slaughter. Looking at the body, that thought didn't feel so solid, and he began to feel bile struggling up his throat. The man on the ground wasn't all that different from the men who fell on Audrick’s spear, perhaps all that separated them was the colour of their assailant’s hair. When Audrick’s auburn locks faded into grey would he not end up just another man in the woods?
He threw up on a tree. The godawful greyroot soup of the morning came bursting out of him all over the trunk of some poor Prowdre oak. Somehow it tasted better coming up than going down. It didn't feel better though, he decided as he clutched his midsection, leaning on that very same tree. A hand patted him on the back as he emptied the last of his stomach.
“Thought you woulda seen worse than this.” Calin said.
“Y-yeah.” he replied. “just…. Hells”
He keeled over yet again. Now, his stomach was fully empty.
“….bad breakfast”
She didn't laugh as she usually did, maybe it was the decomposing corpse or his insides coating the tree, either way she simply patted him once more and signalled to keep going.
Dammit Audrick.
Disappointing her was not an option. He would. Obviously. But staving off that moment, where she realised him for who he was and left him in the sewers of Camp Ardor, was top priority. He needed to act confident, needed to act unfazed ,needed to be brave. He was probably already failing but Lady be damned he needed to try.
“Sooooo,” Leonard walked up alongside him, “where are you even from then?”
Audrick was stunned, why would the wheat haired Mage care about him? Did the man want another reason to dislike the boy, if so his peaceful childhood in that rural village would offer little fuel for that fire. Unless, of course, Leonard was referring to the disaster in which he fled that once home. That would make the ranging party more akin to an execution squad, with Adurick walking down death row with every clumsy step. He palmed his star symboled knife, reminding himself of its presence.
Either way he had to answer the snide young man, Mages had Power and Power had to be obeyed. Though as far as legends and Pathwalkers go he doesn't really fit the stories. He was no Tesse’re or Wind Walker, just a young scrappy man draped in a camo cloak too big for him.
“Just wondering, y'know?” he reiterated.
Whatever he was and wanted, he was still far above Audrick so the only option was to answer, preferably in a way that made up for his already shining incompetence.
“S-somewhere south.” Audrick answered while stumbling over a particularly large root. “Along the border with Circanor.”
“Veryyyy descriptive.” he replied snarkily, effortlessly stepping around that same root.
“L-listen, I don't remember perfectly.” He said desperately, it was the truth. “I just know it was somewhere near the Treaty borders.”
Leonard appeared to consider that before redoubling his interrogation.
“Well you wouldn't happen to be a freak would you?”
Audrick stumbled on clear ground this time.
“N-not that far south no.”
“Good, because the fuckers were hunting are most definetley Freikans.” he spat the last word out like hydra venom.
Leonard, much like many of Athle, seemed to hate the remnants of old Frieka. It made sense, they did start the war, and it was as easy to curse them as much as the continentals.
“Um how can you tell?” Audrick asked, trying to project confidence.
“Oh you can always tell.” he replied lazily, "I mean, heh, you clearly saw their work back there. On the poor bastard’s back? The carving?
“......”
“Seriously?”
“Sorry I was, um, busy.”
“Oh right!”, his hand touched upon Audrick’s back instantly, injecting a freezing cold sensation. “Here take this.”
“-WHA.” he yelped, the feeling akin to a piece of ice dropping down his shirt.
A stray root caught him at that moment of surprise and he went crashing into the forest floor much to the squad's annoyance as they slowed to a stop while the boy got his bearings. Thankfully not all that annoyance was directed at him.
“Leonard!” Dane shouted back. “Dont cast while walking! AND DONT BOTHER CASTING ON HIM!”
Audrick’s stomach fully settled due to whatever Leonard had apparently ‘cast’ while the man in question laughed off Dane’s reprimand. A look at his hand revealed a slight glow on that smooth dark brown skin of his.
“Wha-” he asked breathily. “W-what was that?”
“Hmm?” the Mage looked askance at him. “You’ve never seen a simple {Still Stomach} Spell?”
Audrick imagined the look he returned the Mage was a blank one.
“Ehh not too surprising, you do seem a mundane type. Though you should have seen at least a few First Circle Spells.” he chuckled. “Spend enough time around a bar waking up and you'll get plenty of experience with it.”
Oh, maybe he had seen it before. On the rare occasions Duncliffe took him around the skeevier areas of the camp he had been surprised by how some men seemed to recover from their drunken illness through a simple pat on the back. Well, there was at least one benefit to this stumble in the woods, he was learning things. Not forthcomingly useful things, magic was not something Audrick should ever interact with outside of dodging a stray {Fireball}, but still, better than nothing. It didn't seem like Leonard was ceasing his gifts of wisdom either.
“Are you good at magic?” Audrick asked hesitantly.
“Not really, I'm barely First Circle, not enough to even be called a Pathwalker.” He sounded quite bitter. “Though, put a spellstick or scroll in my hands and I could easily hit two grades above my weight class.”
“If I wanted to hear such fantastical drivel I’d pay a visit the postmen.” One of the rangers commented.
“You don't know a glyph from a rune you stupid bastard!” His light tone removed any hypothetical venom from his words. “And haven't you ever heard the story of High Mage Travelion who felled five sporelords with First Circle Spells?”
“Yeah but he used mag-cannons.”
“What do you think goes into those arrays?”
His tone suggested nobody but himself knew the answer. I certainly dont.
“………..is it magic?”
Ohhhh right.
Leonard took one look at his compatriot and returned to facing Audrick.
“Anyways the body had a carving of the old Freikan Cross on its back, a bad carving of course, but still recognisable.” He smiled despite the sunken words. “Thats what the freaks do, fuck up our home and whine about losing theirs. Them and the continentals, kid, all full of vereshit.”
That could be true. Father would definitely agree. But Audrick had not lived through the Glory nor the Deluge so his opinion was firmly whatever the strongest person in the room decided it was. The dark skinned Mage was obviously firmly against the remnants of Freika but that still left a lot of his alignment a mystery. It would be best to avoid talk of any of those topics. The ones that people got stabbed over. He had seen that happen before, people dying over those crucial differences in what the future could and should be. Untold deaths due to words like Treaty and Progress.. Thus Audrick, for once, made a smart choice in words and attempted to move the strange conversation to a less fraught subject.
“So h-have you been here long?”
“Only a month or two but aren't you gonna ask where I'm from?”
Oh, right.
“O-oh.” he stumbled. “Where are you from Leonard?”
“First name huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I prefer [ArchMage] Deonis but ill allow it. As for my birth I am lucky to have been born in the beautiful land of Redan, when it still existed of course.”
Audrick had nothing to say to that. Redan was a name spoken in the same breath as Freika. Both parceled out in the Treaty between the victors of the Great War. It was not that special of a Fate, millions were parted in those thin lines but the Kingdom of Redan had always had a certain extra taboo to its death.
“I lost my home to that Madness and Enemy.” His voice was calm yet bitter, like a snake rearing back bearing venomous fangs. “I survived and you did too.”
“H-huh?”
“You're obviously running from something. Up here in the northern Treaty Lands alone and no skill other than following orders. And most certainly no Skill to come to your aid.” He patted Audrick on the shoulder, without any freeze this time. “I ran a lot further y’know, across half of Sainon in fact, so i can relate to your struggle, little Athlan.”
Audrick didn't like that grip on his shoulder much.
“But don't let that make you think for a second I will not slit your throat for this life I have built.” He leaned in, blond hair running down the boy’s right peripheral, while Audrick struggled to not to trip again. “And believe me, this close there is not a {Force Shield} in the world that can stop me from burning a hole through that ugly mask of yours.”
Stars Above, enemies cropped up like greyroot wherever the runaway boy tread. A First Circle Mage was no foe Audrick could best. A confident man strolling through the woods, a step away from becoming a Pathwalker himself. Against a stumbling boy whose greatest feat was laying witness to another man’s slaughter.
The Choir had a sense of humor.
Or a sense of justice.
Audrick hunched his shoulders waiting for the dark skinned Mage’s next words. Luckily the rest of the squad found a reason to intervene before that.
“That's great, Leonard.” Calin interrupted as she slipped in between the two. “But I don't think Audy was sent by the Stars to destroy your life.”
“Thats the thing with us runaways captain.” Leonard chuckled. “We rarely run away from good things we did.”
Audrick had made an enemy. He didn't know when, but somehow the Mage had firmly chosen his feelings on the boy and unlike Dane, Audrick couldn't decipher what that hatred stemmed from.
Whatever, at this point what's one more enemy.
Though, this one can throw fire.
Thirty minutes later Audrick finally realised what the squad was doing. It was only when Calin vanished from the group that he voiced the question that led to that discovery. The pale half elf leapt up a boulder and disappeared into the treeline leaving Dane to lead the group forward now. Thus ten soldiers and one boy waltzed through the forest aimlessly.
“U-um where is- uh what is Ca-”
“The Captains ranging for us.” Dane snapped. “She’ll find the rats much faster on her own.”
She’s gonna find the bandits on her own? He couldn't imagine walking, or in his case stumbling, through the infested woods alone.
“Wont it be hard to find us again?” he asked.
“For us maybe, for her it’ll be fine.” Dane said irratedly. “Shes a captain for a reason.”
Enough, I should worry about myself.
His legs, already achy from the hour of walking, threatened to buckle with every step he took. Around every tree he saw it. An arrow knocked, prepared to sink through Audrick’s eye. Or a knife in hand ready to paint red across his throat. He really wanted to run. But, forcing his breath slower, he pulled the cloak around himself tight and remembered Calin’s faith in him.
He may be a stranger in these woods but she wasn't, where he stumbled, she glided across the lush landscape. She was far smarter than most people he had ever met, so if she made the mistake of trusting him, then maybe it wasn't that big of a mistake. Maybe, for once, he could be brave and just walk forward.
Unfortunately he would not need to much longer. Calin returned, falling from some tree far above right into the middle of the squad.
“Did you find them?” Dane asked immediately.
“Of course.” she answered. “They're a bit away from here. Hidden in some makeshift camp. Couldn't get a full headcount but their threat level has to be around Beginner Rank.”
“Then we run the Lilipulutian Plan?”
“Yup.” She said cheerfully. “With all of us here we can't possibly lose.”
“Y’know that's Fianne’s law, right?” Leonard interjected with a smirk. “‘Whenever you say something so obvious Fate will make it ha-”
“Shush Leonard.”
“Quiet idiot.”
“Could we try the Kalaworth plan instead.” Dane proposed seriously. “It would be fitting for these Freikan fools.”
“Nah, not worth the casualties.”
“Wind Walker perhaps?” Another man voiced.
“Why even come out here if the captain does all the work herself?” Leonard said. “May as well run Guildmaster if th-”
“We’re doing Lilipulitian.” She held a hand up silencing the squad.
“But remember, you're always free to propose your own ideas.” Calin interrupted with completed confidence. “Except you Leonard, yours are terrible.”
They looked at her with complete loyalty. Like the Pathwalkers of the camp did towards the Duke. They did so even despite the informal position she took with her subordinates.
Is this what all ranger squads are like?
At the very least they were effective, falling into complete stealth as they moved out.
Calin led them through the thicket until they crested a hill and went silent. Calin held up her hand and descended first into a particularly dense bush. Then, the rest went, finished with Audrick who came up behind the half elf as they huddled in that bush. He could hear it now, hushed tones as men spoke in that language Audrick had heard so little of. Volkan, was the name of that harsher tongue he now remembered, they really were Freikan then. Most of Sainon outside Freika just spoke Liernan, counting Athle of course.
Members of the squad began spreading out into the area, skulking through the green unseen. Quickly they disappeared from Audrick’s view, likely surrounding the bandits one by one as Audrick finally got a look at his enemy.
They were arranged in a clearing, thick walls of green hemming in their deranged camp. Their architecture resembled the trailing camp in that it was haphazard, but unlike the camp it was all shoddily built and nothing a good kick couldn't collapse. He couldn't possibly count the bandits as they walked in and out of view but there had to be at least a dozen of the gruff scarred men.
He could recognise some of the items they held. Some had decrepit swords and bows but others held rakes and hammers as they worked on the camp. It was such a mundane affair for such dangerous men, if he squinted hard enough he could imagine that this was simply a new homestead being erected on the edge of the village. It was only when his vision sharpened and the fields of wheat turned into piles of spoil that the mirage broke.
One of the bandits held a piece of wood with light blue shining diagrams sketched upon it, a Cleanse Stick most certainly, a common enchanted tool that would ‘cleanse’ water of malaise and disease. It was an invention of the [Mad Scholar] Heironomyius, though despite his namesake it was a sensible and effective device. It made sense the camp had one, every hint of civilization would, needing a type of water was one of the few widespread commonalities between the species. It was a Lady of the Lake who they all shared after all.
He began to understand a little more of the reason why the rangers existed as a division of the army. The information gleaned from simply looking at things was invaluable to someone planning an attack. Someone smarter than me would have a field day with a camp this exposed. He could even hear some of the words the men standing guard spoke as they chatted to each other.
“Fuckin woods, almost caught a veremite that was eating my coins.” A man far beyond his years complained in a loud voice that suggested little care for stealth. “Can we not go south to the real rich piggies?”
His compatriot glared at him.
“South is the woods and the crown dipshit.” He spat on the ground. “And before you open your trap, further south past the Plated River is the border with Circanor.” His comrade flinched at that. “That close to the homeland is not safe for us, you know this.”
“Safer than here, bad enough we have to practice their bastard language but if i have to fuck one more ugly savage im gonna ske-.”
“Wir werden eines Tages nach Hause zurückkehren! Der Ruhm ist noch nicht vorbei. Kaiser Kalaworth würde uns nicht so im Stich lassen.” He surveyed the woods with a solemn grace. “Besides, Athle is not as bad as it could be, at least some vestiges of the Oath remain up here.”
“Whatever.” he scoffed, returning to his duty lacking any verbal riposte. “Lady, schenke uns Ruhm.”
So close now to the enemy, he mentally checked what he had on him, the usual leather torn and strewn across his body unfittingly, his knife, the new one, at his side faithfully serving him. The knife was reassuring, an actual weapon for once instead of his shoddy spear. Hopefully neither his broken leather or ill gotten knife would have to see use, but he knew better than to hope, either way it goes, thanks Micah.
“Here we are.” Calin whispered, now alone with Audrick. “There’s fourteen of them. This won't take long. Just wait here while we deal with this infestation.”
He knew the Guild dealt with this sort of thing at times and designated banditry for the most part a Beginner threat, but still, he could not summon that confidence in her words. Where did she find that calm tone from? She had no Power, only a duty entrusted by the Duke, yet she was out here, ready to purge these men for that duty without a hint of fear.
“Watch Audrick. Learn the only lesson that ever matters.” She said while moving forward out of the brush. “Only ever two options kid. Do or don't.”
She didn't bother with the formalities of ambush or stealth. The half elf just strolled out of the brush into the midst of the den like a nightstalker on the hunt. Her steps were so light and natural the bandits on watch didn't even notice her immediately. Until they did.
“Schei?e!” the man slung out his bow. “GET UP YOU IDIOTS!”
He knocked an arrow, pulled his arm back and……… an arrow sunk into his head. The bandit fell to the ground dead as Calin began to sprint at the now flurried bandits. More arrows flew out of the brush, and more men fell as they tried to arm themselves. Some managed to dodge the sudden attack and weaved through the barrage taking shelter behind wooden structures and barricades. A few of them took out their own bows and shot back, Audrick winced as two took aim at Calin, she barely even acknowledged their projectiles as she weaved around them and leapt over a barricade.
Her hair was tied up neatly yet still reflected the sun as her cloak splayed out like a cape. She reminded Audrick of those old stories of the fae as she jumped out of view to dispatch those bandits hiding away in their nest. She definitely looked the part of a faerie, lithe and royal even when thrusting her shortswords into a man’s heart. Huh, he hadn't even noticed it before but the half elf wielded two identical swords instead of the usual one, she really was a world above himself. The others took her lead advancing out of the brush in turn towards the camp.
“EHRE SEI DEN KAMPFERN!” a broad chested man screamed as he ran to meet her, wildly swinging at the weaving half elf. She ducked his strikes keeping barely out of reach of the massive cleaves and jabbing him in a rhythmic dance. He winced at every trade as the man’s massive war axe swept a hair's breadth from Calin's skin. A few bandits approached but were quickly put down by an arrow through the neck or blinded by a bright {Firespark} and finished off by Leonard’s follow up [Force Needle].
The duel continued for a heartpounding minute scarily close to Audrick’s position until the man made the fatal mistake of losing his footing. His right foot slipped an inch and his axe carried on a moment too far in its strike. Calin’s right shortsword found his neck quickly and the man barely managed to deflect it from skewering the vital point, quickly slamming his left arm into her sword to save his life.
He backed away left arm ruined and a chunk of his throat missing. A hunter from his village had once come back from the wilds gored by a steelboar, it was a similar sight, a disgusting visage to see a form like his own mangled so severely, blood stained bone spearing through the gaping wounds. So close to the Lady's embrace the man was, he had only a few seconds to voice his last words through those barely intact vocal strings.
“Helldamned h-hure……….. f-free…..” he panted out a last breath, holding his wounds shut for once last valediction. “F-free Frieka…….”
He fell to the ground like a felled pine leaving Audrick to barely hear those final words he persevered to declare. He doubted Calin heard them at all as she had already moved on to the next target.
Audrick struggled to sit still as the fight continued, only two options right? Do or dont. So which one of those two choices did ‘waiting in a bush’ count as? It was obviously the cowardly one, but Audrick was past caring about things like that, so then why do i want to help? Was that just Calin’s effect on him? Duncliffe had always said, “men only fight for two things, gold and women”, but Audrick had only ever fought for survival. If he was smart then he should just run, or just stay in the bush…………….
Or.
He could try out the new knife.
It wasn't as if he was completely unskilled, Duncliffe had taught him more than just life lessons. He didn't even have to kill anyone, just walk out there and show he could. He wracked his brain as the sudden spout of bravery made his blood run warm, his legs tensed as for once they yearned to leap into the fire.
What was this feeling? Bravery or foolishness he supposed. Both perhaps. It didn't matter, either way, for once his body beckoned for something other than cowardice. For once, he had a chance to do more than just watch as his life unfolded.
Then it all fell apart.
“V-verdammt!” a man tripped and fell into the brush while trying to sneak away.
He looked at Audrick and Audrick looked at him. In those eyes he could see that his earlier assumption was correct, they really were no different, survival was the god at which they both laid their worship and it was a fickle mistress, one whose cruelty was evident in their twin Fates. I mean what exactly were the chances of the dirty man falling right where he was hiding? Did the Lady run out of mercy today? The two runaways so far from home shared that moment of exasperation as they realised what they were. And then they moved, their shared shock expiring. The man, instincts of war still primed, pulled out his weapon first, a knife smeared with dry blood and rust yet still glinting with a familiar sharpness.
run
His heart clenched as overwhelming fear took him and before he knew it his legs pumped out beneath him. Audrick pulled out no weapon. For all their similarities, they were not the exact same beast, and where the fleeing bandit lashed out, Audrick ran. His mind went blank and he could’ve sworn he just heard a voice shout at him but all consideration fell to the wayside beneath that all consuming terror. He tripped as he scrambled out the bush but clawed himself back up sprinting away as far as possible. Audrick wanted to look back at the man, to see if the temptation of ending the fleeing boy was worth enough for the bandit to compromise his escape.
one way out
dont stop
Even if he wanted to he couldn't. His heart and body wouldn't let his manic escape end. It was the village all over again. The lone boy ran from his promise, and didn't stop running until his legs gave out.
The thread quivered at its- at i-
at my touch