Fantastical Towers

by Strafer99

Summary:

The uncertain adventure of a mage clad in various shades of violet and purple, and the friends and enemies they make along the way.

[Alternatively]

A Tower Defense Simulator story focused more on the fantastical aspects of the game.

Chapter 1: Violet Wanderer

Across a luscious verdant ocean of grassy plains fluttered tall, confident blades of grass as a light afternoon breeze explored every nook and cranny of the landscape. A warm hue reflected through the green as an unobstructed sun cast down its bright rays from above, the few clouds residing in the clear blue skies remaining small and fluffy as they slowly went from one end to the other. In some places even, rivers and lakes of pure azure spring water flowed through their respective channels like blood through arteries and veins. Streaming forth from a source some ways far away.

The nature of this place was not as untouched as one would expect it to be. Across many if not all of those long winding streams of liquid were wide bridges of stone or wood. Some had the clear makings of an experienced mason or woodcutter, while others were haphazardly strewn together forms of sediment and uneven logs. Their unified purpose of allowing travelers dry passage above the water were accentuated by the roads and walkways found at their bases. Equally varying in quality as the bridges but sharing the same branching and winding nature of the rivers; dirt, pebble or stone tiled paths guided wanderers to any number of destinations.

Wandering down one of many paths was an individual clad in a plethora of different shades of purple and violet. An opened sleeveless cloak exposed a dark grey undershirt, which was sleeveless as well. Instead, filling the role of arm coverings was a series of worn wrappings not too dissimilar to bandages. They wore a black headband under a hood from their cloak, an ever-neutral expression lightly hidden by shadow. Equally black leather boots stamped down on the dirt and pebble below, creating faint footsteps which would inevitably be covered at another time.

They continued walking on, and on, and on. Several times did they cross paths with others headed elsewhere. They were mostly common folk, regular people going about their daily lives and tasks who gave a small nod, wave or word of quick greeting. Occasionally a horse-drawn carriage or wagon passed by, their riders briefly gawking at the violet-clad individual as if they were some wild animal on a nature tour. The person did not seem to care much, continuing their steady pace forward without so much as a responsive grunt.

Eventually the individual found themselves at the edge of a large forest. A nearby sign only indicated that past it, the town of “Adversity” would be up ahead. The person took a small moment to stand in place, pondering whether or not they should continue, before heading forward.

The land behind them was slowly taken over by forest as they continued walking down the dirt path. As it grew ever denser, the light of the sun was sporadically blotted out by collections of treetops adjacent to each other. Wherever light did pierce through though, its intensity and gleam on the grounds below was just like that back out in the open plains. Shorter forms of foliage lucky to not be left in the shadow of their tree siblings basked in the light, some even bearing fruit and different kinds of berries.

A squirrel ran past the violet individual as it quickly plucked one such berry from a bush nearby. Momentarily, chittering and chirping began to reach the individual’s ears as they walked on. The forest was alive with all sorts of activity, something coming in from every direction. The rustling of bushes, grassy skittering footsteps, creaking of branches and more emanated from the environment in a stark contrast to the plains not too far behind.

As the wanderer continued onward, they could not help but notice something odd as they proceeded. Deeper into the forest, they could swear they saw the moving silhouettes or shaded figures of… Something. Perhaps a flying bird in front of some branches, a hopping rabbit, or heck, a lumbering bear. Their neutral expression slowly turned into one of skepticism and paranoia, eyes now darting around at any sound which pronounced itself more than what composed the ambience of the place.

Their walk maintained the same pace as it always had, but they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks as a thud reached their ears, followed by extremely loud rustling and what was unmistakably a voice.

“Damn!” said whoever it belonged to, more rustling soon after. There was someone else here, it seemed.

Resuming their walk, which became a jog after a few seconds, the rustling around the individual became even more apparent. Slowing down after a while, so did the rustling. Stopping completely, so did the rustling as well. The wanderer’s face was now back to a more neutral form, but their quick, rapid body language conveyed a kind of anxious expectancy for whatever was to come. They were definitely being watched somehow, but why was another question entirely.

Deciding to take a gamble, the individual broke into a sprint down the remainder of the path towards the town ahead. The rustling grew quick once again and were soon accompanied by apparent mutterings, drowned out by the forest’s ambience and all the other noise being made. The violet-clad person only continued running, focus set entirely on what was in front of them.

A sudden warning was signaled in their brain as they caught the glimpse of something metal poking out from a tree, reflecting the sunlight. They skidded to a halt as an axe swung from behind the tall bark, wielded by a charging man in dark brown clothing with a diagonal slash imprinted onto a sleeveless tunic.

The wanderer jumped back enough to avoid the swing, watching as the blade of the weapon entrenched itself within another tree. An audible wheeze escaped the person’s lungs as they soon landed on their back, dirt kicking up as their boots failed to make stable contact with the ground.

The attacker grunted as he struggled to retrieve his stuck axe, all the force he had put into his attack now working against him. The weapon budged ever so slightly with each pull, culminating in the thing removing itself from the tree with more than what its wielder anticipated. Stepping back, the assailant of the violet-clad individual slowly readied himself for another charge, but a sudden voice drew both of their attentions.

“Slough! Quit playing lumberjack!” called out a woman emerging from the trees and to the axe-wielder’s right. She wore pale blue clothing complimented by several pieces of leather armor, wielding an iron lance in a two-handed grip. Interestingly, a sort of mirrored “y” shape was cut into her chest piece.

“Help me out here then!” the axe-wielder, Slough, replied aloud as he prepared to charge.

Slough took a step forward, but soon found himself biting the dust of his partner as she sprinted forth. The violet individual skidded backwards, eventually rising to their feet as the woman planted her lance into the ground. Before they could retaliate, the woman retracted her lance and moved in for a thrust. She was moving too fast, swift - speedy.

Her lance shot forward, then she yanked it back. She repeated this motion several times, each in an attempt to skewer her opponent but to no avail. She was not without progress as a thrust managed to poke the violet-clad person and score a small cut below their ribs.

“Give it up! Toss us all your valuables and we, the mighty Gravel Bandits, might let ya’ off the hook!” she confidently boasted with a small smirk, breaking her assault for the taunt and to brush away some of her short-cut hair.

“Shut up Slick, and end ‘em already!” said a pricked Slough, rushing forward to keep up the pressure in his partner’s pause.

Slough’s axe cut through the air for a second time, unobstructed as he heaved his weapon around. Contrasting Slick’s quick movements, Slough was, well, slow. As he swung and striked, follow-up attacks came at an awkward pace as he adjusted and got the heavy head of his axe positioned as he needed it. It made evasion and dodging much easier, but by the light gust of the wind every time the axe came down or went side to side, the punishment for getting hit could only be fatal. The violet individual kept up, light pants escaping their lungs.

As another horizontal swing concluded and Slough raised his arm up for a downward blow, Slick rushed forward for a drive of her spear. The wanderer jumped back in response, barely avoiding the attack and throwing themselves out of Slough’s range. The axe-fighter angrily grunted in annoyance while the lancer shot a quick chuckle, before the two simultaneously ran forth.

“Outta my way, else I’ll end up reaving your head in!” Slough barked with his axe overhead, stepping back as Slick overtook him again, evidently uncoordinated.

“You can’t even hit this purple fella… Good luck trying to hit me!” Slick simply snickered under her breath.

Slick drove her lance again and again as she continuously stepped forward. The violet-clad person continued their evasion of the attacks, sidestepping and hustling about with more intensity as Slick seemed to be losing her patience. A malicious cackle escaped her lips as she ramped up the pace of her strikes.

“Die already!” Slick shouted, a crazed expression on her face.

Muttering an exasperated curse, Slough ran forward and side-stepped Slick as she prepared to launch another attack. His iron axe crashed down with barbaric force, replacing what the violet individual expected to be a lance jab. Their eyes widened in surprise, dilating as they tried to process what to do next.

Evasion was out of the equation at this point, they had to do something.

Hustling forward, the wanderer’s right hand snapped into a fist as part of a rough haymaker. A surge of power encompassed their fist as it swung at Slough’s chest, crackling with pale blue energy like electricity brewing within dark clouds yet fanning like flames or rippling like water. As contact was made, a deafening crack sounded through the forest alongside a bright flash as raw, wild, volatile energy discharged from their hand. For a brief moment, the pale blue thunder encompassed their entire right arm up to the shoulder, before dissipating entirely.

Slough was thrown back by the sheer force of the souped-up punch, colliding into Slick as she tried stepping forward to follow up his now foiled attack. The two fell over, the axe-fighter nearly crushing the lancer under his weight. Slough groaned in a mix of pain and confusion, while Slick was in a state of absolute shock at what had just happened. It quickly turned into fear as she fully registered what the bandits’ attempted victim was capable of. The little nick she got on the person’s chest was absolutely nothing compared to what they just did.

“G-Get up man! C’mon! We gotta go!” Slick stammered at her comrade, jabbing Slough on the shoulders.

“Urgh… The hell?...” Slough croaked, teetering on unconsciousness as he tried rolling himself off his comrade to no avail. “What was that?”

“Some magic crap! Get up!” Slick barked, wide eyes darting towards the violet individual. They did not step forward to finish the job, but rather, seemed to be reeling from their own attack.

“Ah… Magic… Yeah…” Slough dumbly mumbled, staring up at the sky in a daze.

“Argh! Dammit man!”

Slick, after a moment’s struggle, forced Slough off of her. The axe-fighter was still discombobulated, head swaying lazily to and fro as it brushed the dirt path below. The lancer swung her arms under Slough’s own and began an attempt at dragging him away. With all her might, she slowly receded the two of them back into the surrounding forest. Oddly enough, the violet individual still did not take advantage of the two brigands’ vulnerabilities at this point.

An uncannily neutral expression was on the individual’s face, occasionally broken by breaths incited by their prior combat maneuver. They were seemingly nonchalant at everything that just happened, their gaze looking blank as they focused on the trees which Slick and Slough had disappeared into. The most emotion they showed at the moment was when they stepped forward and cocked their head to the side to look into that part of the forest. They saw no trace of the two bandits, and shrugged as they continued onward to their destination.

The remainder of their trip was a rather uneventful walk forward. Eventually the wanderer found themselves at the edge of Adversity, its entrance being a large, hollowed out cave passage. Surrounding the cave was an expanse of stone and elevated terrain, nearly mountain-like in appearance, forming a natural wall for the town on the other side.

The individual walked through the large cave, sparsely illuminated by posted lanterns to its sides. The dirt path transitioned into one of pebble and granite around half-way through the cave. At the end of the cave, a pair of guards clad in light armor stood watch with steel lances in hand: A woman eyeing the outsider both warily and cheerily, and a man who’s half-asleep expression was partially concealed by his tilted helmet’s brim.

“Greetings, traveler!” the female guard announced as the violet-clad person approached, jolting her partner awake. She let out a light chuckle at the man’s reaction, then focused back on the newcomer to Adversity.

The male guard yawned, fixing his helmet. “Wh… What brings you to our humble little settlement?” He mumbled.

A brief pause came after as the wanderer took a moment to form a response, eventually speaking in an utterly neutral tone. “Passing through.”

“Any other business?” said the female guard.

“I’d like directions to your town’s inn and library.” the wanderer continued, assuming Adversity had such facilities.

The male guard nodded and thought for a moment, stifling another yawn. “Continue walking down this road and take the left path once you get to that house over there.” he turned around, pointing at a brown wooden building. “Keep walking and you’ll find a red-roofed building to your right, behind a small hill. That’s our inn, and across from it is our library. They should have signs to help distinguish themselves.”

“Thank you.” the wanderer replied, walking past the two guards. After a minute they were completely out of earshot.

“That makes two.” said the male guard.

“What?” his partner tilted her head.

“That was the second outsider today who asked for directions specifically to our inn and library, while ‘passing through’.” the male guard explained.

“Devoted readers I suppose.” the woman shrugged.

“What do you think they even read? What texts are even worth traveling around the land for?”

“Historical scrolls, magical tomes, stories and tales, could be anything really. And it’s all worth the journey with the right goals in mind.”

“I don’t think anyone in their right mind would travel across Robloxia to read a book.” the male guard argued.

“Mad or not mad, a goal is a goal.” the female guard simply replied to the exaggerated statement.

“So would someone from say, Talvi, travel to Atlas just to sell their fish there. Then after a week go back home? Brave all the snow, the drastic climate shift, then the snow again for some business?”

“Probably, there has to be at least one person with plans like that. As odd as they sound.” the female guard shrugged again before cracking a smile. “What are your goals, Pike?”

The male guard, Pike, grunted. “Get paid, go home, sleep. Yours, Sharpe?”

The female guard, Sharpe, thought for a moment before answering. “Becoming a fully fledged knight, a cavalier even. Traveling around Robloxia on a steed, things like that.”

“Lofty aspirations. A big leap from being part of Adversity’s militia.”

“And quite more ambitious than yours.” Sharpe commented.

“A gold-pouch to gold-pouch life is fine by me. I can handle my finances enough to have leftover money for whatever else I might want out of it.” Pike sighed.

“Try expanding your sights a little.”

“Save up enough gold to buy my own castle and erect my own lordship. How about that?” Pike answered tiredly.

“Now that’s a respectable goal.”

“If an incredibly unrealistic one.”

“‘A goal is a goal’.” Sharpe parroted herself, a victorious smile of sorts on her face.

Pike exhaled, and eventually returned the smile as he tipped the brim of his helmet down again. “Got me there.” He said, swiftly returning to his prior nap.

“‘Lord Pike’, I wonder how you’ll run a castle when you’ll probably be sleeping on its throne.” Sharpe mumbled. “Does sound like a nice endpoint, though.”

After a few minutes of silence and standing next to Pike, Sharpe looked behind her. She saw the violet-clad individual off in the distance, now but a speck of purple, walking down the path Pike had explained before. Slowly getting smaller, smaller, and smaller.

“I wonder what that purple fellow’s goals are.” she spoke to herself, turning back around and returning her focus to her post.

Notes:

And that's a wrap on the first chapter of this story. To anyone interested in it, know that updates will probably be slow.

Thanks for spotting this and giving it a read, drop a comment, criticism or whatever, if ya like.

Chapter 2: Kindled Embers

Summary:

The Violet Wanderer steps foot into Adversity proper.

Notes:

Welp, got this one out on Christmas in a few timezones? Guess that's something of note.

If you've stuck around for some strange reason after like, two or so months of no updates to this, you have my utmost gratitude.

Anyways, let's get this long-on-hold show on the road again.

The town of Adversity appeared as a sizable settlement to the violet individual as they walked down the path outlined to them by one of the militia guards they had spoken to. Around them people walked to and from in the routines of their daily lives. Horse-drawn or person-drawn carts transported goods and other materials across the town, messengers sprinted and waded through crowded sectors to deliver letters and other mail, physical laborers answered the call of bell tolls to rest before resuming their work minutes later, and more. The hustle and bustle of Adversity was in a stark contrast to the relatively empty plains the purple mage wandered through prior.

The neatly set dirt road below their feet divided everything around them into two lanes and two sides. Buildings of stone and wood were built across the streets from one another, juxtaposed by occasional major elements of nature like trees and small hills. Some stood tall, while others were short and stout. Most were intended for residential use, though some had hanging signs and postage indicating they served some other purpose if their unique architecture did not give that fact away already. The age of each building could also be inferred as certain structures seemed more outwardly worn than others, rough cut stone and log contrasting more polished, refined slabs and planks.

Their partially curious gaze around their surroundings was cut short as they heard a loud crack and thud sound off from the space in front of them. A wooden cart hauling hay lay tilted on the side of the road, one of its wheels missing and currently spinning on its lonesome before falling over on one of its sides. Things were made worse as the higher levels of the stack of hay the cart contained adhered to the will of gravity, tipping out. The elderly puller of the cart nearby breathed an exasperated sigh as he put a palm on his forehead. He cursed something under his breath, before trying to salvage what he could out of his predicament. Multiple people began gathering around to watch him.

The violet individual stared at the scene of an old man and his broken cart, face naturally deadpan. They did not continue on their original plans to visit Adversity’s library, the thought seeming to have been temporarily overwritten by this sudden happening and a need to watch it develop. They remained still as the man struggled to lift his cart into an even position, his well-trained yet elderly arms mustering all they could but barely managing to lift the mass of wood off the ground. He did make some progress, but his old limbs simply gave out, and the cart made another thud as it returned to its former position.

The old man stumbled back as he lost his grip. He looked around and sighed again, but did a double take when he noticed the individual in purple some distance behind him. They stuck out from the surrounding crowd due to their relatively vibrant colors. Momentarily, the eyes of several other crowd members focused on the individual as well. Their interests seemingly piqued by the newcomer to their town.

The old man’s interest was the first to wane however, and he chided out to no one in particular. “Mind helping an old man out here? Need some hands to transport my hay or help fix my cart!”

Being kicked out of their collective focus on the violet-clad individual, members from the crowd began to step forward to help the elderly fellow. They initially tried to replicate his first move, seeing if they could repair the cart. The combined strength of several men allowed the cart to be lifted off the ground and to a more even position, as if it had not tilted over at all. Though, one among them clicked his tongue at the sight of the damaged side of the cart.

“Sorry Joe, the right axel’s snapped off completely.” the man, presumably a carpenter, remarked.

“Ah… Dang-nabbit.” the old man, Joe, spat to the side.

“We can help you carry the hay by hand to wherever it needs to go.” another man offered.

“‘Preciate it.” Joe simply nodded, immediately accepting the offer and taking one of the hay bales to carry for himself. The large, dense bundle of fodder nearly threw him off balance.

The crowd began to disperse as the situation was relatively resolved, though the violet individual kept watching it go on. As hay bales were taken to be carried by hand, something within their mind seemed to click. An underlying feeling was drawing them to join in, and help out. A nudge in the back of their brain, willing them to step forward and further redirect more time away from their objectives at Adversity’s library. To put off what they needed to do, to help out some strangers.

The individual was internally confused at this sudden wish their mind was trying to push on them. They did not fully comprehend why part of them wanted to help. They did not know why part of them wanted to get involved, when clearly there were others willing to do so for them. They could not tell if it was out of a sense of good intent, a self-satisfactory whim, a fear of missing out, or anything in between those and more. They just knew it was a force pushing them forward, a force which would probably snap back at them later if they chose to forgo what it wanted.

With a slight hesitancy and ever neutral expression, the violet-clad individual stepped forward towards Joe and the fellows helping him. They took one of the bales of hay, deciding to go through on the odd thought of helping which spontaneously popped up in their brain. A few others raised an eyebrow at the strange newcomer, deciding to help out without so much as an introductory “Hey!” or other small gestures, but most nodded and accepted their willingness to help. As the last hay bale was picked up, Joe began leading his group of assistants to where he had been pulling his cart to.

The dozen or so sized group followed Joe’s lead, eventually winding up at the old man’s farming grounds. The land was on the edges of Adversity, propped up right next to part of the town’s natural “wall” of tall and vertical hills and rock formations. A worn wooden fence denoted what exactly was encompassed by the farm, and a sign near a segment-turned-gate clarified further that it was indeed Joe’s property. Within the fencing was a large barn and smaller storage building propped next to it, both colored a peeling red as one would typically think a barn would be. Approaching the smaller shed, Joe simply dropped his hay bale to the ground.

“Right, just leave the hay ‘ere, I’ll take care of the rest. Thanks for all your hospitality.” the old farmer said, dusting off his hands.

“I’ll take in your cart and see what I can do for you. Take things easy, Joe.” the carpenter advised as he set down his hay bale.

Joe tipped the brim of his farmer’s hat in agreement and gratitude as more of those who helped him set down their hay and left to continue with their own tasks. Soon all of the helpers had left, except for one, the violet-clad individual. They propped their hay bale close to the storage shed, but after that, blankly stared at the fodder once their job was done. Joe raised an eyebrow at the newcomer’s odd behavior, and walked over to nudge them out of an apparent stupor.

“Ay, you’re free ‘ta go.” Joe said, looking confused at the violet individual.

The individual simply replied with silence and their ever-neutral face as their head turned to look at Joe. Their odd gaze was occasionally broken by some blinking, or occasional glances back at the hay bales. Joe could not tell what was turning in the fellow’s head to make them act like this, or if anything was turning at all. Their lack of expression gave little to nothing for the old man to work with in determining their thoughts.

Within the violet individual’s thoughts however, was yet another nudge. It had returned, and prodded them to continue helping despite Joe’s announcement their role was done. Still, the violet individual could not determine where this wish came from in their mind. They only knew they probably should try to make it come true. Though, coming to that conclusion left them lacking in the outward action department.

Joe snapped his fingers in front of the individual, which seemed to fully grab their attention. “Ya want pay or somethin’?” the old man grumbled.

Slightly shaking their head, the individual replied. “Sorry- No. I wish to help you store your farming materials.”

Joe raised another eyebrow, though out of a more welcome surprise. He simply nodded, unlocking the door to the shed. “Well, can’t say no to that.”

As the doors were opened, Joe pointed to a space at the back of the shed for the hay to be placed, picking up a bale. The two spent a few minutes transporting the hay where it needed to be, the violet individual’s presence enabling for an efficiency Joe would have struggled with achieving by himself. Eventually it was all in place, and Joe dusted his hands off again for a job well done.

“Thanks again for the help.” Joe reiterated, holding a hand out for a handshake.

The farmer became confused once more as that gesture seemed to kick the violet individual back into a state of thinking, or lack thereof, whichever was applicable. They stared at the old man’s hand for a while, but unlike with the hay, managed to get the memo and their next actions in check. They slowly, carefully and overly-cautiously moved their opposite hand to the one extended to initiate the shake. Their fingers twitched and flexed, as if to get into the “correct” position for this extremely simple gesture.

Joe’s confusion soon turned into a sort of amusement, and he soon cracked a slight smile as he simply gripped the violet individual’s hand in a firm shake. The individual reacted by trying to follow the movements of Joe’s old hand, but lost their way as the old man suddenly broke away after a good few seconds. Their now separated open hand hovered in the air aimlessly, before falling to their side. They muttered a low hum as if pondering a serious event, before giving a simple nod. A moment of silence ensued among the two, the violet individual more neutral than ever.

Joe abruptly broke out into a small chuckle, which earned him the ever-so-slightly off-centered glance of his quiet companion. “Ya never shook a guy’s hand before?”

“No.” the violet individual plainly replied, face utterly deadpan.

Joe coughed to stifle his chuckles, nearly getting into a fit as another wave of confusion washed over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, waved the words away. “Ah, well, now you know how to. Just be a bit more firm about it.” the old man simply advised.

“I will remember that.” the individual nodded.

Joe held back another show of amusement, and simply patted the individual on the shoulder. “Well, best be on yer way now. This old man’s taken up too much of your time. Though, what would your name be, stranger?”

The individual did not reply, choosing to remain silent again. Joe found himself yet again flummoxed by their behavior, and chose to patiently wait as the sheer idea of not knowing one’s own name was practically unimaginable in the vast majority of scenarios. Though, as a dozen seconds drew out into a full minute, his old brain did a double take as he determined he was in one of those odd cases. All the while, the individual still retained their neutral face. This time, they were slightly evident of any inner activity as their eyes darted to and fro as if looking for an answer elsewhere in their surroundings.

Inside the individual’s inner thought, their mind was utterly blank. They could not recall anything they could use in reply to Joe’s inquiry. All they could remember, from an indiscernible point of origin, was that they never once spoke of their “name”. Nor did anyone who they had encountered in the past and conversed with, if plain one-two sentence exchanges could be considered conversations. They could not even remember the specifics of any of these talks, just that they happened, somewhere, sometime, with someone or some people. Trying to find their name in what increasingly few memories they had was trying to find a four-leaf clover in a field of the tiny green plants - Everything is a clover, but probably not the kind being searched for.

The individual’s silence and expression left the still-waiting old man confused. But eventually they joined him in this state of unknowing as their face finally shifted to something more expressive - a basic furrowing of brows with a frown. The idea they seemed to not know their name was as confusing to them as it was to Joe, and the subsequent fact that while they knew what a name was and yet had none of their own boggled their mind even further.

“I don’t know.” the individual simply admitted.

“Ah…” Joe nodded in an outward show of understanding, despite his mind raising all sorts of questions as to who or what exactly this purple-dressed fellow was. “Well, maybe it’ll come to ya some other time.” the old man continued in a substantially more uplifting voice, trying to come off as some cheery elderly figure people looked to for guidance.

“Right.” the individual mumbled. “But what if I cannot recall it?”

“Then I suppose… Ya pick a new one. Choose something to go by.” Joe shrugged.

“How do I pick one?” the individual inquired further, a fixation on this small yet oddly important topic evident in their tone.

“I’m just a farmer. Not some know-it-all philosopher or whatever they’re called.” Joe replied. “Pick something ya like, or something that’s related to ya. I’m not your father. Though, he should have been the one to have named ya, along with your ma’ but- That’s besides the point.”

“Something I… Like?” the individual asked yet again, further confusing Joe. Though, the old man found some more sense in this particular question than those prior. He knew people who did not have any major likings to anything in life could exist, and that was because he was one of those people at a point in his life.

“Yeah, or somethin’ which’ll be…” Joe thought for a moment, snapping his fingers as he came to a realization, “Reflective, yeah, reflective of ya.”

“Hm.” the individual thought for a moment, still hung over this.

“Say, how ‘bout… ‘Violet’, since yer wearing a whole load of it.” Joe suggested, gesturing to the individual’s garments. “Or ‘Grey’, I dunno, ‘cause of that shirt under the fancy robes.”

“Violet.” the individual restated, and repeated under hushed breath. As if to get a feel of the word, to confirm that they would be using it as their moniker from here on out. With a slight sense of mental relief washing over them, they spoke.

“My name is Violet. Thank you, Joe.”

Joe cracked another smile, with a nod of both approval and odd self-pride at helping this strange fellow with this predicament. “Anytime, see you ‘round. Best get going, a good soul like ya should’ve been off this farm a while ago.” the old man reiterated, waving “Violet” off to do whatever they needed to do for the last time.

With little hesitation, the individual moved to leave the grounds of Joe’s farm. They quickly got back on their path towards Adversity’s library. Their usually neutral expression was now just barely that, the faintest hint of a genuine smile formed on their face.

Several minutes passed as Violet retraced their steps through Adversity, still bustling with activity as it was before. They soon found themselves standing in front of a large, two-storied wooden building which lay across from a similar red-roofed structure. The library and inn respectively as they recalled the guard telling them, and indicated from hanging wooden signage just above the doors to each facility. They approached and opened the door to the library, quickly entering and closing the door behind them without so much as a few obligatory creeks.

The interior of the library was quite cozy with an almost complete nullification of any outside sounds. Nearly everything in immediate sight to Violet was made and crafted from wood which looked similarly aged to certain buildings elsewhere in the town. They also spotted a few unlit, half-melted wax candles propped up on various tables scattered around the room. At said tables were a few patrons of the library who had come before Violet, either engrossed in their own readings or having quickly glanced up at the purple-clad individual’s entrance. Taking another quick glance around and noting a light wave given to them by a young woman, who was presumably the librarian, they stepped forward to begin their dive into the texts Adversity had to offer.

The purple mage turned their focus to the most major element of the room: a set of six alphabetically labeled aisles positioned in the center. Each containing dozens upon dozens of various forms of books, codexes and other media no doubt collected over a long period of time. They made their way to the first aisle and began to quickly skim over its contents. Contrary to the label on the wooden structure itself, there was nothing to denote the specific kinds of books on the shelves. Violet however, found no problem with this lack of specified organization, and decided to do things the long way.

It was that factor that led to Violet spending an abnormal amount of time just standing there in the aisle, reading. Book by book, the purple mage took in volumes of words in quick skimmings of the various texts. It seemed like a mindless act outwardly, but Violet would occasionally slow down to read more in-depth when a specific book piqued their interest. It was still a very much slow process though and by the time that Violet had fully gone through the first aisle, most of the library goers had left.

Violet felt a light tap on their right shoulder. Turning their head around to glance behind them, they saw the librarian. She wore a slightly concerned, yet also friendly and soft expression on her face. It was only fitting, given how strange Violet came off through spending an abnormal amount of time reading through the first aisle in its entirety. Her eyes wandered just a bit in thought before she spoke.

“Do you need any help looking for anything in particular… Sir?” the librarian asked in a whisper, despite the relative lack of people in the space by now.

Violet paused, staring back at her with a blank face. Almost in a repeat of the interaction with Joe, they failed to come up with an answer quickly. Though, the fact they were in thought was much more apparent with a thumb pressed under their chin.

“I might.” Violet simply replied, another pause following after.

“Okay, do you have anything in mind?” the librarian inquired.

“History.” Violet plainly stated.

The librarian raised an eyebrow at the extremely general answer, though narrowed her brows as a few texts held in the library came to mind. “Of…? The whole continent, or a specific country?” She asked further.

“Anything.” Violet continued.

“Right.” the librarian nodded, briefly scanning the aisle Violet had just gone through. “Don’t suppose it’d be here…”

She took a few steps and entered the next aisle and began her parsing there. Violet followed and oddly waited as the woman looked through the shelves for anything matching their vague description of what they needed. She eventually produced the first of several books: ‘ Construction of The Present: A History of Robloxia ‘ was engraved in white on a simple light red cover, no easily visible indication of author or date of publishing present.

“You said anything, so I’ll be compiling some things I think you’ll be interested in.” the librarian said as she placed another book on top of the first, ‘ Golden and Crimson Steel - The Forging of the Redcliff Kingdom ‘.

She continued to add to the pile over the next few minutes. Amassing a fair few texts Violet may have some use for from across the several other aisles and their shelves. The stack was roughly half-way to the knees of both Violet and the librarian in terms of height by the time the latter had compiled and rearranged it. In terms of weight, Violet found themselves initially struggling to keep the books centered lest they fall and spill onto the floor. Though, some rapid intervention by the librarian saved them both the hassle of what would come after if that were the case.

“Is there anything else I could help you with?” the librarian asked again, voice carrying a slight hint of tiredness. She kept her friendly demeanor up.

“No. Thank you.” Violet nodded, giving off a faint smile like the one he had after his interaction with Joe.

The librarian happily nodded and returned to her post elsewhere in the space. Figuring they could not read all their newly-acquired texts standing up now, Violet made their way to one of the several completely empty tables. They placed their books down and took a seat, grabbing the topmost book. It was oddly enough, the first one the librarian had picked out for Violet, but it made enough sense. It was, if its title was any indicator, a general overview of the continent. The other works probably could delve into the specifics this would establish.

Cracking open the red hardcover, Violet began reading. More time passed as they were engrossed in the text, though they suddenly stopped upon reaching a particular section within it. Placing the book face-down on the table, they shifted through their pile before finding another book which seemed to further expand upon the section of the first in some way. Then, they began reading that instead.

In the same way their comprehensive parsing of the first aisle had gone, this system of reading the continent history book, then switching to another book mid-read to expand upon what was only a page or dozen long section in the first book, was extremely time consuming. Whatever Violet was looking for seemed to be absent from the dozens upon dozens of pages they read. Yet, they trudged forward in this incredibly inefficient activity despite that.

Time passed as Violet went through their books. Thankfully, they did not decide to thoroughly read each and every text to the final page lest they make the library their abode. However it seemed their efforts were amounting to little as with every book they skimmed, they still did not find what it was they were looking for. A light thud sounded as they placed the final book separate from the first on a new, disorganized pile, and went back to the first. Momentarily, that too returned to the top of the pile of texts.

Violet just stared at all the books for a good few seconds. Like a machine with a wrench in its gears, once again nothing seemed to be ticking inside their head. They just sat in place. Not even so much as tapping their fingers on the table. Only occasionally glancing around as if waiting for something to happen.

“Oi.” a voice spoke near Violet, followed up by a tap on the shoulder. The purple-clad individual turned to face who this person was. They didn’t sound like the librarian.

Standing over Violet was a fellow hood-and-cloak library goer, a book matching the colors of Violet’s text about the Redcliff Kingdom gripped in his left hand. His muted blue-grey cloak contrasted heavily with Violet’s vibrant purples, and it seemed to be utterly concealing his entire right arm. Under the cloak were what appeared to be relatively worn garments: a white-turned shirt and pair of pants with a charcoal vest and pair of boots. A large satchel hung to the left of his waist, fastened to a waist-high belt.

“How may I help you?” Violet asked, neutral expression unbreaking.

“You seem to be quite the historian. Or a well-aspiring one.” the man replied as he gestured to the large pile of books Violet had gone through.

“Why do you say that?” Violet asked, as if the man never gestured in the first place.

The man raised an eyebrow, before lightly shaking his head. “The books, you’ve spent the past hour or so reading them.”

“I was in the pursuit of knowledge which I suspected to be found within these texts.” Violet plainly stated. “I have learned from them, but not that which I seek.”

“Ah, understandable.” The man spoke, his tone evident of the same kind of relief one would find in talking to a stranger who had some things in common. “Been there before.”

Violet simply nodded in response, remaining quiet.

“Well? You look like a deer in the path of a stampeding heavy cavalry squadron.” the man remarked - a bit unnerved by Violet’s blank stare, but still holding interest in conversing.

“What?” Violet asked after an abnormally long moment of silence.

“Figure of speech.” the man replied.

Violet paused again, and repeated. “What?”

The man blinked for a moment, eyes wandering elsewhere in a visible annoyance, before huffing a heavy sigh. “You look like nothing’s happening inside here.” The man tapped the side of his head.

Violet’s eyes widened for a second as their mind finally read the room. “Ah, I can assure you, my psychological and physical faculties in regards to my brain are fully active. I am aware of my surroundings, and the like.”

“Then why did you just stare at me without so much as blinking a couple seconds ago?”

Violet blinked several times, and with what appeared to be a single bead of sweat trickling down their forehead, haphazardly replied. “I was waiting for you to expand upon your similar experiences of searching for knowledge.”

“I don’t think that was the case.” the man said, though contrary to his words, his attitude became a tad more friendly. “You sound and look like you’re lying, but eh, ‘least that means your first argument’s correct.”

Violet nodded again, and averted their gaze elsewhere as they thought of their next actions, settling on actually pressing on what the man was looking for. “What knowledge were you trying to attain, but have yet to find?”

The man cracked a smile, his long mustache shifting ever so slightly along with some of his facial muscles. “Ah, the specifics sound strange. Do you mind if I keep it general?”

“I do not mind.” Violet replied, continuing. “An answer is an answer.”

“Well, it’s something in regards to magic.” the man plainly said, slightly holding his crimson and gold book out for emphasis.

Violet nodded, and did not prod any further to the man’s surprise. It seemed they held enough of some kind of understanding to find that plain answer satisfactory.

“What about you, what are you looking for?” the man reversed, now seeking something out of Violet. “Clearly ain’t the history of this wonderful continent.”

“The reason behind my existence and what my purpose is.” Violet bluntly stated, clear and concise.

“Heh. Well, you’re not finding that in a library, I’ll tell you that.” the man chuckled. “That kind of knowledge is far too broad to be confined within a few wooden walls… Usually.” the man added on, leaning over to spot the librarian in between some of the room’s bookshelves.

“So, where might I find it?” Violet continued, interest visibly piqued as they raised an eyebrow.

“It could be anywhere, frankly.” the man replied. “Same thing with what I’m looking for.”

“That… I will keep in mind.” Violet spoke after a minute of thought.

“In that aspect, we’re quite similar, ain’t we?” the man continued.

“I suppose so. We are both in a pursuit of some kind of knowledge.”

“Say, you aren’t a historian. But have you got a bit of anything magical in ya?” the man inquired, brows furrowing.

Violet immediately thought back to their path to Adversity. How they were jumped by a pair of over-confident bandits, and warded them off with a quite volatile punch they had thrown in desperation. They hesitated for a moment, but found themselves confident to reply. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Well, I’ve got an offer. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours-” the man said, before clearing his throat and reiterating his words in a more understandable way before Violet misunderstood again. “- I help you find your purpose, you help me with my arcane studies.”

“That sounds quite mutually beneficial.” Violet simply said, no further inquiries.

“Aye, so, we have a deal?” the man said, holding a hand out for a handshake after placing his book on the table.

As if on instinct, Violet’s eyes lit up as they spotted the now-familiar gesture. They stood up from their seat and took the man’s hand in a firm shake, just as Joe said they had to be the next time they shook a person’s hand. “We do.”

Violet remained silent for one more moment, before something else triggered inside their mind and caused them to speak again. “And what is your name? I’m Violet.”

“Brander. Good to meet you, Violet.” the man, Brander, replied. He released the handshake and used his left arm to pull back his hood, giving Violet a proper view of his face. Brander was a bald man save for a slim mustache stretching from cheek-to-cheek, but his eyes were the distinct orange one would see in a burning flame.

Imitating the action, Violet quickly pulled back the hood on their head in a similar gesture. Violet had a nearly shoulder-length cut of dark hair, slightly compressed through the purple mage’s black headband. Their eyes, which had come off as a sort of darker grey to Brander through their interaction, revealed themselves to be quite light, almost coming off as utterly white. This oddity did not disturb Brander in the slightest though, as he simply patted his new friend on the shoulder.

“Where’re you headed next, friend?” Brander asked.

“I don’t know.” Violet plainly responded, a slight smile worming its way onto their face as their fellow mage called them a “friend”.

“Ah, well, guess I can help you find that out as well. I’ll be staying in town for a week. We can plan our next steps soon enough.”

“That sounds agreeable.”

“Indeed.” Brander simply affirmed, picking up his book and making a move to leave the library. Violet tried to follow, before feeling a light tap on their shoulder from behind.

“Ahem.”

They turned, and saw the librarian behind them. Still wearing her cheery face, but her eyes were shooting daggers into Violet’s. She peered downward, and Violet’s eyes followed, finding themselves on their large piles of books. In a moment of realization, Violet attempted to rectify their forgetfulness by trying to take the whole stack from the librarian. The sudden shift in weight caused the tower of texts to wane and unlike when it was first erected, the books were sent all across the floor. Any of the librarian’s ire faded and was replaced with a nervous initiative as she tried to recompile the books, soon aided by a surprisingly regretful Violet and eventually, Brander as well.

After yet even more time Violet finally wrapped up their business in the library. All the books they had spilled were returned to their rightful place, and amends with the librarian were quickly made through a series of persistent apologies. Exiting the space, Brander was already outside waiting for them, and nudged their shoulder with a quick poke.

“I’m gonna make a few rounds around town. Got some other business to attend to. You mind doin’ your own thing for a bit?” Brander stated, still holding his crimson and gold book.

“Not at all.” Violet simply nodded, inferring Brander needed to do some personal tasks.

“Thanks for understanding, see you ‘round.” Brander quickly gestured before running off.

Violet was left alone, again, though only for the time being. With another slight smile and nothing else in terms of “their own things”, they made a straight walk towards Adversity’s inn. Entering and quickly affording themselves lone accommodations, they settled on going to bed early as a window gave view to a setting sun off in the distance.

Eventually, night fell over the town of Adversity. The formerly unlit hung lanterns and torches were now alight with enduring flame, illuminating the areas around them. The citizens of the town were all sound in their dreams, only a select few militia troops persisting in their wakeful watch. Violet lay quiet in their bed in a stiff supine position, their smile from prior still upon their face as it broke their streak of constant neutrality and blankness.

For all of the questions and similar Violet had raised in their head in the past day, this smile which they seemed to have abruptly adopted was one of the few they had deduced an answer for. It was a very simple and basic one, yet, it was an answer nonetheless:

They did some good, they made a friend, and they got a step closer to achieving their goal.

With that peace of mind, their other thoughts were kept at bay, and they slept peacefully throughout the night.

Notes:

Happy (late) holidays. I can't guarantee any quick updates, but I'll try to slug at this for a while.

Chapter 3: Underdogs

Slick sighed as she settled herself against a tree deep within the forest leading to Adversity, the light of a crackling campfire nearby illuminating her and its surroundings with a warm orange glow. The sprawl of trees and other natural life had gone quiet since nightfall, replaced by the ambience of the nearby fire which drowned out the usual crickets. The sheer density of the forest caused a darkness to consume the space not shone upon by flame, pitch black being the only thing to greet anyone’s gaze. The small clearing turned impromptu camp which the lancer had settled in was also free of overbearing tree tops, allowing for a wide gaze to the sky above. With a weary head, Slick did just that as she pressed against the bark behind her.

The clear, dark blue night sky was marked by scattered collections of small white dots representing stars far beyond the reach of anything on the Robloxian continent, or anything in the world for that matter. Off to one side of the sky was a dot larger than most - the moon - as it adamantly replaced the sun and its blinding light with its own light glow. Slick huffed as she stared up at all the sky, feeling a sense of melancholy as the night went on. The day had not been well for her, nor for her axe-faring companion who was resting nearby as well. That violet-clad individual had really messed things up for both of them.

“Another day, another bust.” Slough grumbled, seated on a felled log with his hands resting on the sides of his slouched head.

“Tell me about it.” Slick replied sarcastically, head tilted backwards against the tree behind her, “That was our first jump in a while and you absolutely botched it.”

“Me? You’re the one who dropped your lance and sent that guy running.” Slough retorted.

“And you’re the one who somehow had the perfect opportunity to whack his head off, but no-” Slick imitated Slough’s axe swing, pretending her ‘axe’ got wedged into something, “You had to fumble that.”

“I don’t know how he- she- or whatever the hell that person was, managed to spot me. I was completely hidden- or at least I think I was, and by the time I struck they seemed to have just,” Slough dragged on, rubbing his forehead, “Anticipated it.”

“Well, I won’t lie. They were a speedy bastard. Weaving through all of our attacks.” Slick reflected, before her head tilted forward as she realized something else, “Except the one you nearly got on them, which-”

“Didn’t go through.” Slough coughed, pounding a fist on his chest, “Still feels sore. I’m lucky whatever they slung at me felt more debilitating than anything else.”

Slick took in the words for a moment, before replying with not another blaming statement, but some concern, “You don’t feel dizzy or anything like that, right? Who knows what that ‘magic’ could do.”

“I’m fine up here.” Slough lightly tapped the side of his head, “But I don’t know if we’ll be as a whole if we keep up this losing streak.”

“I’m sure the boss will write this off as a more acceptable failure?” Slick awkwardly suggested, shrugging.

“Gravel lets practically anything slide. It’s just that no successful jobs means no coin, which means no food or water anywhere we decide to go.” Slough sighed.

“Or a direct form of whatever we’d use the money for.” Slick murmured, “And we probably won’t be getting any welfare from our friends back at the hideout.”

“We’ll be a laughing stock, or more aptly, I’ll be one in the case we ever step foot back there again. For all I’m worth, I couldn’t make a plan to take out a single wanderer in the middle of a forest, with help.”

Slick stood up and walked over to Slough, circling the campfire. She took a seat down next to her friend and simply patted him on the back.

“Well, so what? Sure I told you off, saying you screwed things up but- You really got brains when most have brawn. Heck, you have both, dude.”

“That just makes the failure here even worse.” Slough spoke, the tiredness on his face most prominent.

“We don’t need to tell them what happened here. Or anything we’ve done in our time away from the hideout. We’re bandits, Slough. Not some military folks with half a dozen reports to file.”

“At this point I don’t think I’ll have the guts to keep going with this, regardless.” Slough replied.

“Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel.”

“And what if I am? I never liked this ‘business’.” Slough raised his voice, fatigue causing it to come off as just slight agitation.

Slick remained silent at Slough’s thoughts on their doings, not sure how to reply.

“Sorry- But the entire point I went into this was because my old life led me to this exact same result of having nothing. I’m just gonna be going in circles at this rate.”

Silence ensued for a moment, then Slick spoke. “Your brain.”

“Yeah? Use it for something?” Slough raised a tired brow.

“I suppose.” Slick paused, resuming before Slough could interject. “Look, I’ve known you since we were kids. You’re smart. You might not know what you need to do for a lot of things but I know you’re able to adapt.”

“Trying to get a decently-paying job is a big step up from knowing how to read.” Slough let out a half-serious chuckle.

“You’ve got what it takes and that’s what matters.” Slick adamantly restated, “You just need a little motivation, I think.”

“If I knew I was capable of achieving great things I wouldn’t have gone into cutting lumber for a living. Which in turn wouldn’t have led me here.”

Slick gulped as she went blank on anything else to say, desperate to salvage a point out of everything they’ve exchanged. “People need wood for a lotta’ things nowadays, you’ll be bound to make a profit eventually."

“Would laborers source their materials from some individual they’ve never heard of before or from a more trusted, reliable group?” said Slough with rhetoric in mind.

Slick blinked for a moment, trying to find a reply, but failed as she returned to silence.

After another period of quietness, Slough sighed heavily. “Sorry for spewing all that.”

“No no. Don’t be sorry for anything.” reassured Slick. “I… Kinda get how you feel.”

“Then you should see how screwed we are if we continue down this path.” Slough clasped his hands. “Our recent nights haven’t even been spent in any kind of shelter.”

“We still have fire though, that counts for something, right?” Slick gestured.

“Until we both need to go to sleep, lest you want us to become unintentional arsonists or risk a well-done end.”

Slick slowly nodded her head, then spoke after a while. “You’re tired. We can try something tomorrow.”

“We need to find another way to make money.” Slough plainly stated.

“Forget it for now, please.” Slick leaned to the side, partially startling her tired companion with her closeness, “Just go to sleep, I’ll take care of the fire."

Slough slowly stood up from his seat with a simple nod and moved himself to a nearby tree, dragging his axe along. He slunk down against the bark and with a murmured “goodnight”, ceased to be awake. Slick returned to the spot under her own tree prior to watch over the campfire. She would remain awake for a few more minutes, until eventually deciding she needed to rest for the night as well. Using her own hands at one point the head of her spear as an impromptu shovel, she smothered the campfire with dirt until darkness enveloped the camp.

Not even being able to see Slough in the pitch black darkness, Slick relaxed into her seated position as she gazed up at the night sky again. The last crackles of a dying fire filled her ears as did the dark blue white-dotted sky break the black in her vision. She pondered on Slough’s words for a moment, before lightly shaking her head.

“We’ve still got our shots… Make names for ourselves. Join up with Norman, become the best mercs Robloxia’s seen…” the lancer mumbled to herself as she held her weapon close.

“Just wait and see… Goodnight.”

The night went on as the two brigands slept without a roof over their heads, just the night sky above and their thoughts lingering within.

---

“Wake up, Spare!” barked a rough voice to a young man sleeping in a hammock.

In reply, or lack thereof, the young man could only snore slightly. The person standing next to them let out an amused snort, drawing a hatchet from their belt. Flipping it around with the blade of the small axe pointed towards its user, he whacked the sleeper square in the stomach. The receiver of the strike gave start as he shot upwards with a grunt.

“Oof- Woah!” the now-awake man could only yelp as his sudden movements shifted the hammock wildly. The mesh tilted enough to let gravity take hold and throw the man out of his spot. Hitting the poorly tiled dirt floor with a thud, the man let out one more grunt as he tried to lift himself back up.

“Get ‘ta work! It’s high time I got some me time!” the hatchet-wielding man spewed as he fixed his weapon back to his belt while simultaneously getting the hammock all ready.

“Ain’t there other folks you could’ve… Whacked, for their beds?” the young man asked as he dusted himself off, brushing at a fresh bruise right above his left elbow.

“None who’re as low on the ladder as ya. Wouldn’t want to cause any trouble, nope!” the man sharply shook his head as he lazily settled into the hammock.

“But- You just-” stammered the young man in an attempt to reply, trying to hand-comb his messy brown hair.

“Go play with your sword or somethin’, kid. Get yer quotas in and I’ll consider givin’ you yer hammock back by sundown.” the lazy man waved a hand, shooing the younger one away.

The young man turned around and walked off, peering out of an open door frame leading to a hall outside. He flinched as the rays of the sun cast down into the space through one of many broken stone walls, quickly returning to the hammock thief.

“It’s just barely sunrise!”

“Bah. I worked the night shift. I deserve this more than you.” said the lazy man with a decisive tone, snores soon following.

The younger man simply stood there, dumbfounded. Grabbing his sword from a table nearby in defeat, it seemed as though he’d cut down the man who had stolen his place of rest from him. Though, he just let out a lengthy sigh in resignation as he rubbed his face with his off-hand, moving to leave the room.

“And I deserve to work with some decent folks.” remarked the young man as he yawned and stretched. His sword clanked against a wall by accident, leading to a swift sheathing on his back, “Keep the hammock, you’re not seeing a single coin from me.”

The rudely awoken bandit stepped fully into the hallway which he only glanced through before, turning to preemptively shield him from the morning sun’s assaulting rays. The chirping of birds filled his ears as did the creak of the floorboards beneath him. As he continued forward, more of the sun’s light invaded the hall through holes in the hall’s roof. The roof being nothing more than a collection of rotten wooden planks that seemed to have meant to be the flooring for another story either never constructed or demolished. Having little regard for the history of his current place of residence, the young bandit eventually reached a staircase leading to the more structurally sound first floor.

The first floor was, largely put, just a better kept second floor. A main hall led down and to the entrance and exit of the overall building, door frames with actual doors lining both of its sides. It was also more “organized” in a sense, certain doors being denoted with poorly applied labels of wood and ink nailed to them. Above all, not a single brick from the walls was missing, leading the only source of light at the moment to be a few dying torches scattered through the hall. 

Just as the young bandit approached the exit to the outside, he was knocked back as a door designating the room behind it as ‘ Barracks-A ’ swung open. He stumbled as he slightly clenched where the door’s knob had struck him. A small, annoying pain flaring up in that spot.

“Just my luck.” the bandit grit his teeth with tired annoyance, which immediately faded as he saw who’d opened the door and unintentionally smacked him with it.

Leaving the barracks was a figure clad in a large, all-enveloping dark cloak with occasional tears near its base. Whoever was under the large fabric turned to peer down the right of the hall before glancing the opposite way, jumping as the struck bandit entered their vision. Hurriedly, yet softly closing the door to the barracks, they ran over to their friend with worry and concern.

“Ah, Norman!” a feminine voice called from under the cloak’s hood. “Sorry about that- I didn’t hear you coming and well I thought even if you or anyone else was you’d be far enough from the door and-” she rambled on.

“Hina.” the bandit swordsman, Norman, plainly spoke with slight amusement. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?” 

“Sure.” 

Hina let out a relieved huff as Norman answered, pulling back her hood and revealing a fretfully pale hazel-skinned face slightly hidden away by long, black bangs. She tried to hold out her hands as if to help steady her friend, though they soon just fell to her side as the man reoriented himself. She let out a half-sincere chuckle as the swordsman further recovered from a door to the face, but soon held low one hand as concern briefly overtook her again.

“Really sure? No bruises or anything? I mean- I think I opened the door real hard and the thud was real loud so-”

“Hina. I’m fine. Not even a bloody nose.” Norman pointed to the body part in question, momentarily sniffling to prevent anything from leaking out. “See?”

“Ah- Well-” Hina tried to continue talking, but realized she’d just embark on another spew of unintelligible worry. She felt like a pressurized can about to explode as she fought off the urge to remark on the bruise on Norman’s arm from his rude awakening.

Norman patted her on the shoulder as he moved to continue walking down the hall, still facing her. “Gonna grab some fresh air and scrounge around for breakfast. Wanna come with?” he gestured to the building’s door with a thumb.

“Couldn’t get any shuteye, may as well.” Hina pulled her hood back over her head, calming her nerves with a large breath.

The two left the building and entered the rays of the still-early sun, beating down on what seemed to be the large base of operations for the bandit group they were part of. Around the large, decrepit construction of stone the two had exited were more similar structures as well as the trees of an interspersed forest. Of immediate note was probably the most well-kept building in the area: a large stone tower dwarfing the one-and-a-half story barracks by double, even triple its height thanks to the elevated terrain it had over the shorter construct. From where Norman and Hina were, a lone crossbowman could be barely seen posted on the wooden balcony near the top of the tower, keeping watch.

The two bandits began walking through the hideout on their quest for breakfast. Despite it being so early in the morning, plenty of things were going on in the large camp. Whether it be small groups of their colleagues setting out to do their thing or others seeking something right here, people were moving to and fro as their days began. Or nights ended, for those who were on the ‘night shift’ such as the man who had robbed Norman of his hammock.

As the two were about to wrap around the barracks to a designated storehouse some ways behind it, the distinct sizzle of something being cooked sounded close by. Intrigued, the two investigated to find the source of the sound. What they saw was one of their fellows sitting by a partially relit campfire, holding a ladle above it in one hand, and two, uncracked eggs in the other.

“Bingo.” remarked Norman as he strode forward.

“Ya think he’ll share?” Hina inquired, slinking behind as if to hide in the swordsman’s shadow.

“With a bit of negotiation.”

Norman and Hina approached their cooking comrade, sat on a rock near the fire as he fried a third, already cracked egg. He took a moment to take in the emanating smoke from the sizzling white-and-yellow protein before he noticed the approach of the two fellow-bandits. Still keeping his ladle-arm high up and above the fire, he held the two eggs in his other hand up and facing them. With an unassuming expression, he spoke.

“Want some?” the egg-cooker asked with expectation. He was a simple man, dressed in dark green farm trousers with a pale blue shirt that seemed to have a tiny patchwork person right at its center. A simple bronze dagger was stuffed into his front pouch, a similarly low quality short sword slung on his back.

“You can read minds.” Norman remarked, forcing on a charismatic face. He remained silent, and eventually realized the ensuing awkwardness as his facial muscles relaxed, “Seriously, yeah.”

“The storehouse has a ton of only partially stale bread.” the cook said as he glanced at the egg in his ladle again, “It’d be much quicker to nab some than wait for me to get through all of these.”

“You know what folks say, can’t rush art..? Or… Anything good. Right?” replied Norman as he felt his stomach grumble, so low only he could hear it.

“Well, Spare, I guess if you can put up with the wait we can split it between… All, of us.” the cook tilted forward, spotting Hina ever-so-slightly leaning out of Norman’s figure, “Was gonna try and make one big omelet, but it would be rude to put all my eggs in a single basket.”

Norman nodded, pleasantly surprised by the lack of pushback from the cook aside from time concerns. Though, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he called him ‘ Spare ’. The hammock thief had called him the same thing and to think about it, only Hina as well as a few of his other friends had ever referred to him by his real name for as long as he could recall being a bandit. Whoever coined him ‘Spare’ in the first place seemed to have really stuck the note, that nickname being how anyone else knew him.

He did not raise any concerns about that however, and just sat by as the cook kept hanging the egg-loaded ladle over the fire. The three remained in silence through the whole process, until the cook called their attention by laying a now-cooked fried egg on a small wooden plate, fork included.

“Here ya go.” said the cook, passing the plate to Norman and starting on a new egg.

The swordsman stared down at the morsel. It was just a lone egg. For most, it wouldn’t suffice, there’d need to be two or three or have it just be a singular portion of a larger meal. But somehow the lone piece of protein seemed to be emanating all the calories he’d need for the day ahead, accentuated by a now stronger rumbling in his stomach. He took the fork in one hand, and was about to stab into the yolk, but stopped himself just short.

He could still feel Hina’s hands on him, peering over his shoulder as she watched the cook. He could swear at moments her posture would falter, and she’d just rest her chin on him before quickly pulling back. He did not know what to say to her, or what she’d say to him. Placing the wooden folk on the egg, he lowered his plate before glancing slightly to the side.

“H-hey, you- You uncomfortable? Sorry.” Hina retracted as she noticed Norman’s brief gaze, wrapping her cloak around herself.

Norman shifted around to face her, holding out his plate. “No, just- Here.”

Hina tilted her head to the side, hood shifting appropriately. She hesitated for a moment, looking straight into Norman’s eyes as if to ask for extra confirmation to take him up on the offer. He nodded with light, rapid movement, still keeping the plate out. The woman brushed the sides of her cloak aside to take the plate. She had the faintest of smiles under her hood.

“Ah… Norman, thank you.” Hina murmured.

Norman couldn’t help but return the smile after his friend’s pleasantries, watching her take the first bites of the egg. Despite the rough start to his day, he felt oddly content at the moment. Perhaps it was because of his easier time getting breakfast, or Hina’s presence? He could deduce it to either/or, but it was an overall boost to his mood.

“How is it?” the cook asked, taking note of how Norman had passed over his share to his friend.

“Good. Tasty.” said Hina as she finished another bite of the egg.

The right side of the cook’s lip slightly curled in a smile as he continued cooking, silently taking in the cloaked bandit’s feedback. “Only got the one plate. Finish it up before the second egg’s done.”

Hina seemed to have already gotten the memo, as by the time the cook finished speaking the plate was clean save for some residual yolk and albumen. The timing of it elicited a slight chuckle from the man, who continued to fry the second egg. After a lengthy few minutes, the plate was passed back to him and loaded, and the last egg began cooking. The plate again went to Norman, and he again found himself about to dig in, yet stopped himself, again.

“Hey.” he said, looking at the cook.

“Yeah?”

“I could take over, you can have my share.” Norman offered again, the grumbling in his stomach lashing out in response. This time, it could actually be somewhat heard.

“You… Sure?” the cook raised a brow, and Hina put a hand on Norman’s shoulder. The two both seemed to be in underlying agreement that the swordsman should just eat.

“You were willing to share with us so it’s only fair you don’t eat last. I insist.” Norman prodded, one hand holding his plate, the other open and ready to take over.

After a long, silent dozen seconds, the cook slowly took the plate from Norman’s hand and handed him the ladle. “Just keep it hung over the fire, and pull away once the edge of the egg starts curling after a while.”

Norman nodded as the cook began to quickly consume his own making. Not taking the initially slow approach Hina had, but more or less acting out what he himself would have done should he have not passed his portions along. Perhaps the cook did not want him to make a mistake and ruin the last- His share. So, he’d finish up quickly and the job would go back to him. The idea that the cook did not trust Norman’s abilities slightly propped up in his mind, but was counteracted by the idea he’d want the swordsman to eat well after his gestures.

The cook downed a quick swig of water from a canteen as he finished his egg. He set the plate down on his lap and motioned for Norman to pass the ladle. He took it and inspected the sizzling egg, before holding it over the fire for another minute. He then laid it on the plate, and passed it to the swordsman. He coughed before speaking momentarily.

“Eat up. Ya’ deserve it, Spa-” the cook tried to speak before noticing the absolute cold stare Hina was shooting his way from behind her friend, “Er- Uh… Norman . Enjoy.”

Norman nodded, and began eating without hesitation. He started fast but quickly burned out as he finally got food into his system. Each bite felt heavenly for the man, despite the fact it was simply just an egg. The grumbling in his stomach slowly relented as he continued, and was soon nowhere to be heard. He did not feel full in the slightest and now saw why the cook had thought of making an omelet, but that did not impede his enjoyment of the egg. With a final bite of runny yolk laid on a wide flap of white, he passed the plate back to the cook.

“Ah, thank you and the gods above.” Norman exhaled. He felt fairly well at the moment, only bolstered as he picked up on the cook’s use of his actual name, “Wait, sorry- You are…?”

“ Breanne .” the cook replied, producing a rag and dousing it with some of his canteen water as he wiped the plate and fork set. They seemed to be his own possessions.

“Thank you for the food.” plainly said Hina, face returned to its meek state.

“Glad to help out a few friends. Even for something small like breakfast.” Breanne slid his woodenware set into the front pouch of his trousers. The dagger there now seemed like a dining knife among the wooden objects, somewhat, “You really think you’ll both pull through the day on just that, though?”

“We’ll find something later. This was the best start to a day I’ve had in a while, food-wise.” answered Norman, a small nod from Hina added on to his reply.

“Good to hear. Break a leg on whatever you’ve got going on today, I oughta get to my own tasks right about now.” Breanne stood up and doused out the fire he’d used to cook.

“Same to you.” Norman said. He stood up as well and walked off. Hina followed.

With some semblance of food in their stomachs, the two bandits walked off elsewhere into the camp. In the minutes during and following their time with Breanne, more activity spurred everywhere they went. More of their “colleagues” piled out of the camp’s barracks, set off on expeditions or pilfered the storehouse for their morning meal - Emerging with some barely not -stale bread as Breanne mentioned before. The day was in full swing now and as such, the two needed to make use of the daylight to get something done. However, it became readily apparent that the swordsman had nothing in mind past getting breakfast.

“Got any plans?” Norman plainly spoke as he and Hina milled about the camp, treading near one of its two ‘exits’ into a surrounding forest.

Hina tugged on her cloak, enveloping her whole form in it bar the front of her face and boots. “Not… Really.”

Norman nodded as they both stopped just at the edge of the forest, a dirt path from the camp leading into it abruptly shifting to pure green grass. He kept silent.

Hina did as well until she thought of the same question, breaking the awkward quiet which fell over them. “You, anything?”

“Practice my sword arm.” replied Norman after another pause, “Find lunch, dinner I guess? The works.”

“Outside of camp?” Hina inquired, oddly specific.

Norman fidgeted before answering. “As far as possible.”

“Understandable.” Hina mouthed, “Do you need any help with that?”

“For…?” Norman trailed.

“Anything.”

Contemplating having Hina by him for just a bit longer, or however long she’d decide to stick around, Norman hummed in indecision. Soon, he settled on an answer. “Maybe a little.”

“Then, can I come with?” Hina continued, her voice slightly raised outside of its typical quietness. Norman couldn’t do anything but nod.

A further reaction was forced out of Norman as he noted Hina’s beaming teeth after his agreement. She began to step out of the camp’s grounds with the faintest pep in her step before Norman could speak again. The swordsman followed after, wearing a little smile of his own as she seemingly led the way.

“Shouldn’t I be the guide here?” Norman mumbled. Though he shot up as Hina turned to face him, now walking backwards.

The cloaked bandit still wore her smile as she spoke. “You’d need to have a place in mind to be one, and I don’t think you really do.”

Norman couldn’t help but snicker at Hina’s words. Next to his nickname of ‘Spare’, those kind of backhanded comments and remarks were the second most common thing he’d remember practically anyone outside of his friends saying to him. To hear such things coming from the meek Hina was quite a surprise. Of course when coming from her, he could better receive the banter, and she wasn’t even wrong. Outside of his on-the-spot plans for the day, nothing else was floating around his mind.

“Then lead the way, lil’ shadow.” Norman said, speeding up to now walk beside Hina.

Hina let out a soft chuckle and wrapped an arm around Norman, a more extroverted side of her emerging as they walked farther and farther from the camp.

The two bandits soon entered the forest which surrounded the camp. There was practically nothing to guide anyone to it should they not already know the route there. It was not a concern for them however, nor was it for any of their other bandit familiars. Soon enough, everything around Norman and Hina was pure nature. Luscious foliage and trees flanking and joining each other in formations of shades of green were as far as the eye could see. Wherever Hina was leading Norman, it would probably help him in every way possible and even more, the swordsman hoped and believed.

The two thus continued onward with the still-morning sun beating down on them, ready to make use of the sunlight.

---

Despite all the sun pounding the towering and disarrayed constructs of aged stone and wood, there was a structure amidst all that seemed to receive none of its warmth. A moderately sized single-storied structure partially wedged into the surrounding forest was set near the bandit camp’s storehouse. A large set of double doors acted as the only way to get in or out of the building, and through the morning hours, not one soul had set foot near it. There wasn’t even anything telling people off if they approached the oversized blockhouse. It instilled an odd sense of fear- respect into the bandits which milled around and treated each other with no more care than any of their victims.

Within this near unsettling building was simply put, an uncanny sense of lacking. In one corner there was a thin-framed bed, a man laying on it as if he was a long-dead corpse. He was dressed in a large, tattered open cloak which revealed a body covered in bandages and various belts that almost served to just keep him together. Rugged work trousers covered him from the waist down, and at his bedside was a set of dirtied and worn leather boots. In another corner resided a chest, no doubt containing some personal belongings, but also a large and rusty shovel leaning against it.

In the center of the wall opposite to the entrance doors to the cold interior was the final thing of note: the remains of a tattered flag. Some kind of standard for a kingdom or empire, or some other force. Whatever symbols it bore were long gone, only the topmost portions which had been so firmly nailed into the wall remained as strips of grey and purple fabric long since faded into paleness. Nothing replaced its space, though. In an odd show of respect perhaps, the man who lay still like a corpse nor did any other bandits in the camp emblazon the walls with some poor usage of paint like how most would do to mark their territory. Just cold, hard stone remained.

Eventually, the man who slept woke up. Slowly, he slipped into his boots and lightly stretched. The crack and pop of his bones and muscles as they eased into activity echoed throughout the room. He spoke not a word, and immediately moved to retrieve his shovel from across the room. Grabbing it and moving to the doors which led outside, he paused for a moment to listen for any sound on the other side, and pushed them open after a brief hesitation.

His boots stamping on the ground, the man peered around as he pulled his hood further over his head. The moment he could be heard approaching, bandits snapped to attention or continued whatever they were doing with utmost reluctance and nervousness. He was what caused these bandits to never go near his part of camp.

Eventually, one bold soul tried to start some talk with the odd man. 

“H-hey… Boss. Nice weather?” the crooked face, spitting image of anyone’s interpretation of a bandit spoke with a voice crack.

The man slightly turned to glance at his fellow bandit- No, subordinate . From under his hood, a single, faintly red eye peered back at the bandit who was now starting to slightly shiver like a scared child. What little sunlight reached the boss’ skin shone to reveal an olive tone. Not olive skin, but rather, literal olive green in some capacity.

After a painfully long silence, the man coughed, and spoke with a bandanna partially shifting to match his mouth’s movements. “Indeed it is.”

The other bandit could do nothing but simply nod and slink elsewhere. No one laughed at his expense for the awkward interaction. No one did anything, they all just tried to not draw the attention of their leader. Perhaps noticing this, the boss instead decided to bring all the attention of everyone else on him. A small chuckle welling in his throat soon erupted into a near fit of laughter, forcing another cough out of him.

“You all seem like you’ve seen ghosts. Just pretend I am one, and go on with your days.” he chided. Reluctantly, the bandits began to do just that.

The boss continued to walk through the camp after that, and eventually, for some reason, disappeared into the forest surrounding the camp. It was only then that the bandits could breathe a sigh of relief, truly getting back to their activities. Among them hushed talk sprung up. Not of plans or such, but of their leader. Fearful talk of him.

And whenever they spoke of him, they always referred to him not as boss, but as a very particular name.

“ Gravel. ”

Notes:

And that's another chapter. Sorry for slow updates, but at least this one was only roughly a month, heh.

Fun fact, each of the named bandits thus far is based off of an enemy in the game.

Chapter 4: Adverse Happenings

Summary:

Another day, another few developments.

Sunlight broke over the town of Adversity as a new day dawned over the settlement. It was partially obscured by the rocky formations which served as a natural wall for the town, but as the sun rose higher, its rays fully coated the town in a warm glow. The lanterns and torches which lit up the town were slowly overtaken in purpose by natural light - those tasked to handle them now moved through the streets to snuff them out. Some of the populus began to exit their homes or set up their storefronts in preparation for the work portion of their days. All the while, it occurred in a quiet harmony marking such happenings as routine.

Violet’s eyes slowly pried open as they remained in bed around an hour after Adversity’s awakening. The first thought that came to them was that they couldn’t help but notice how ‘heavy’ everything felt. Their limbs moved and reacted with more stiffness than usual, and their mind seemed to be racing and moving at a snail’s pace simultaneously. It was a strange thing to ponder on despite having gone to sleep and waking up countless times in the past, and thus experiencing this feeling on a common basis. Yet, it was at the forefront of their mind more than ever, as if this was the first time it was happening.

Violet could only swing one leg out at a time as they tried to rise from bed. After what felt like only a minute, but what was arguably several, the grogginess plaguing them abruptly subsided as their bodily functions caught up with one another. They stood up at their bedside and rubbed their forehead. The odd sensation and its associated thoughts also took their leave from Violet’s mind, slipping into and out some mental backdoor. Glancing behind at their bed, Violet rubbed their forehead with a face that could be barely considered confused. They shrugged, and put on their boots as they left their room.

“Hr… Good… Morning…” Violet heard coming down from the hall of the inn, somewhere near the reception and waiting area. Continuing down the hall and past the doors of the other rooms, they saw a man slumped over on his desk. The inn’s receptionist, no doubt, who seemed to have remained like this for the whole of the night.

“Are you well?” Violet plainly asked, standing like a statue next to the desk while looking down at the man. Their voice, as usual, carried an eerie neutrality in contrast to the slight hint of emotion it’d had the past day.

“Hr… Huh- Wha?” the man sleep-talked as he slowly came to. Rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back and let out a large yawn, he gave start upon noticing Violet just standing next to his desk. “Eh- Ahem, yes. I… I am.” he said, just partially more aware of his surroundings.

Violet plainly nodded at this reply and made to leave the inn without saying anything else. The innkeeper’s eyes trailed curiously for a moment, before deciding to focus elsewhere as he lowered his head and aimed to extend his sleep for a few minutes. With that, the purple mage left the inn and returned to the outdoors of Adversity.

A nice, cool breeze hit Violet as their boots stamped back down on the cultivated dirt paths outside. The thin shade afforded to them by their hood and grown hair did well to block out the morning sun beating above, enabling Violet to just slightly peer up at the skies without their retinas recoiling in surprise. Nearly clear and devoid of clouds just like the day before - a bright blue canvas with little splotches of white, it seemed. They took a deep breath of the morning air, exhaling with a sense of ease.

A sense of ease . Another feeling foreign to the mage. They felt calm, but not the calm that just remains in the background like a bard’s music at a rowdy tavern - The calm that comes from just not worrying about anything. It was a calm that actively made itself known, reminding them of its presence with every breath their lungs took. Passive relief, one could put it. Just like the groggy slowness of waking up, the serenity they felt in this moment initiated confused reflection before it was ultimately put aside mentally. Though, an overall question to all of it began to form.

Why?

Why was Violet only noticing these things now? Why was Violet’s head caring so much about these things? The pragmatic side of Violet that slotted in better with their ever-neutral demeanor came out to give its two cents, prodding the second question. As if in reply, this other side of Violet’s mind brewed a few unclear thoughts that the mage themselves couldn’t deduce. It was the same part of their psyche which had pushed them to help Joe the old farmer out yesterday to the fullest. The thing that had instilled so many other questions into Violet’s head prior.

And yet, it seemed to finally give some kind of answer to this recent dilemma. Whatever it was trying to convey sated the newest questions Violet had internally raised. It came in the form of more unclear thought only joined together by some equally vague general idea. Something that fell into the broad realm of “hard to explain”. But it bought the mage a moment of mental respite.

Until one specific part of the “reply” became clear. Just one single word.

‘ Think ’ .

Violet’s face slightly scrunched as the word rebounded inside their skull. They didn’t know what to make of it, and soon enough, only more questions appeared to rise from the waters of their mind. What the hell did ‘ think ’ even refer to? They were always thinking , conscious about the world around them and what they did. For all the thought they’ve had, there should be something that they could match this one word, in this context, to.

But they could not think of anything, as if they never thought at all.

Violet nearly let out an exasperated sigh at their psychological predicament. The abstract and vague nature of each question floating around in their head was making it difficult to hammer down even a single nail to any one of several dozen wooden boards. As they burned minutes of the morning just idling and pacing around the outside of the inn, no semblance of progress could be made in any aspect. It was a futile endeavor, plain and simple. The mage soon just thought of pushing it aside, to forget about all of these pointless thoughts and focus on what needed to get done today.

But once again, Violet’s pragmatism faced pushback from the other side of their head. It nudged them to keep focusing on this, to keep thinking about it. To keep it around like an integral part of their psyche, or just in the back of their head at the very least. To keep it like a simple question or a dozen to be asked and solved later. But that’d require some semblance of understanding of the problem, and this? This was just far too vague for the mage to comprehend in any practical sense.

Violet’s stubborn focus on this initially minuscule topic would have continued for the foreseeable hour of the morning if their visit to Adversity’s library yesterday was any indicator, but they were soon snapped out of their focus by a hand patting them on the shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep, eh?” Brander spoke, having exited the inn.

Violet remained silent as their mind shifted and turned to get into conversational gear, replying after a while. “I did.” They said flatly, delayed in cracking a tiny lopsided smile as a slight show of emotion.

“Lucky.” Brander chuckled at the slow, yet incredibly short response, “Got any plans on this fine day?”

Violet paused again in thought before shaking their head slightly. “I intended to leave Adversity and resume my travels, but as a result of our encounter yesterday, I have been obligated to remain in this town for as long as you will. To my memory, roughly a week’s time to be specific.”

“So…” the other mage processed the answer. “No?”

“No.” Violet said, “Or yes, on the no. That is, or…” They began to ramble in attempts to clarify what they meant. It earned them another small laugh from their friend.

“Ah, good. I’ll take it this is your first time here?” Brander nodded as he tried to keep the conversation going, choking out any further sounds of amusement.

“Yes.” Violet said without any further elaboration.

“Then a tour’s in arrangement. Scheduled for right now.” Brander gestured with a thumb towards the main road leading through Adversity like a blood-transporting vein. Soon he set foot on it, with Violet following close behind.

The pair of magi explored Adversity for the better part of their morning. After stopping by the local market near the center of town to peruse about for breakfast, Brander led Violet to a myriad of different places which were all mostly new to the latter. Aside from the inn, library, Joe’s farm, and what initially lay after the entrance to the little village, Violet was quite unfamiliar with Adversity as a whole on a specific level. With every turn the pair took, the purple mage’s gaze shifted to and about as they took in all the “new” architecture they had not seen yesterday.

Of a particular note was a large, stone structure near the central market that spanned for quite a while despite only being one story tall. It had slanted metal roofing and singular pairs of wooden double-doors on each side of the building acting as its only entrances and exits. Marked above the miniature gates was the emblem of Adversity - a basic shield-shaped crest bearing a circle in the center dual-colored green and brown, with remaining space around it being a dark grey. A few windows additionally were located along the lengthier sides of the structure. Violet, upon focusing on this particular building, moved to further inspect it. A firm hand on the shoulder from Brander stopped them however.

“Militia barracks, friend. Where you’d seldom find members of Adversity’s guard.” Brander spoke, nudging Violet to step away from the building, “Nonetheless, I’d advise folks like you and me to stay away from it.”

“Hmm.” Violet nodded, grasping what Brander was trying to tell them. 

Despite how unfamiliar they were with some of the basics of conversation and social interaction yesterday, the idea that some places were just plainly off-limits was a both sound and familiar one. Like how they’d known what a name was yet seemed to not possess one until recent, Violet found this fact strange enough to start internally questioning it. 

Though, they managed to set those thoughts aside to focus on the here-and-now, “Surely they'd not appreciate unauthorized personnel on such grounds.”

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.” Brander patted his friend on the back, walking off.

They continued on their pseudo-tour of Adversity, with Brander continuing to guide Violet through the town. As the knowledge of landmarks and such planted themselves within the latter’s mind, the purple mage rapidly became less and less responsive to the things around them. Familiarity set in, and as well, that strange feeling of ease which had caused Violet’s internal struggles mere moments after waking up. Though, a tap runs fast when it’s first turned on, and the mage was able to keep any more grand questions from clogging their mind. Instead, they settled on a much more answerable one as a certain building caught their eye.

“What is that facility.” Violet spoke, pointing to a structure about the size of the inn. 

In contrast to the building which served to be a temporary home, this other construct of wood was draped in several places with flags and banners bearing the colors of white with red lining. Down the center of the longest stretches of fabric were stitched renditions of various tools and weapons such as shovels and spears, or trowels and tomes. For that aspect, it was quite more boisterous in comparison to the relatively unspoken and neutral theme the other buildings in Adversity had.

Brander gave a little grin, as if he had been waiting for quite some time to spiel about something like this. “That right there’s a guild hall. A bulletin-board of a building where ya’ can just waltz in, pick a quest or two, come back with proof-of-completion and get paid some sweet, sweet coin.”

“Interesting.” Violet flatly spoke.

“Bread and butter of those who are always on the move. There’s always a guild in most decently-sized villages. And in larger towns and cities? Multiple to deal with all sorts of specific sectors.” Brander held up a hand, in preparation to count off his fingers.

Violet remained receptively silent, implying they’d wish to hear more.

“So, you’ve got the Farmer’s Guild, the Warrior’s Guild, the Artisan’s Guild, the Mage Guild-” Brander paused briefly to think with eerily wide eyes, “The Trades Guild, the Transport Guild, and a bunch more. We’d be here all day if we were to list ‘em off.”

Violet nodded plainly, still quiet.

“Glorious little places, they are. Say, how about we tackle a few quests to rack up some funds for our travels?” Brander patted a hefty pouch on his waist.

The purple mage thought about the offer. As far as they could recall, they’d never been one to have been in deep-waters financially. Though like most things in their life as they found apparent, this was more due to a lack of any proper experiences to reference from - to think about. However, with multiple days left in Adversity and the path to finding answers for their many abstract questions, Violet came to the conclusion this little venture couldn’t hurt. At least, it’d serve well as a reference point for future endeavors.  

“Most logical.” Violet replied. As soon as they’d replied, Brander had already begun a stride into the building.  

Following suit and entering the guild, Violet found the hall to be quite spacious. At an immediate glance it simply consisted of one large room with a few seats and round tables, several boards dividing the forms of quests and tasks offered to the public, and a few administrative desks near the back with staff of the hall stationed at them. Brander had already moved over to one of the boards, parsing through various pinned papers and notes. After a quick minute, he turned to beckon Violet over.

“Think we’ve got a decent appetizer.” the blue-grey cloaked mage’s grin remained on his face as he pointed a thumb at a particular quest.

“Hm.” Violet stood beside their friend, leveling their eyes to the task.

‘ Ongoing request: Assist local hunters by catching small-game in surrounding areas for sale in local market. Reward is based on returned spoils. ’ 

“Simple, ain’t it?” Brander nodded as he walked off, “I’ll get everythin’ sorted out at the back desk, hang tight.”

Violet followed those last words with silence as they were left standing in front of the quest board. They spent the first few moments alone parsing the other parts of the board. Nearly, if not all, seemed far more interesting than the one they were to do. Whether it was more complex iterations of the plain task of hunting, or things that seemed to be involved with the leaders of Adversity and its militia, Brander had picked the lowest hanging fruit of all of them. Though, given Violet’s utter inability to recall anything about hunting it was deemed more than a logical decision in their mind, thinking about it.  

Again, thinking . That one single word and action had quickly crept back to the forefront of Violet’s headspace as they were left with little things to do while they waited for Brander to get things finalized. What did it mean? The purple mage still had not even a pebble-sized answer for that. Or any of the other related, unclear inquiries their psyche was placing upon themselves. They had always been thinking for as long as they lived, and that would constitute thought… Or so, they thought.

Maybe there was a reason why, given anything particular be it experience or other knowledge, Violet couldn’t come up with anything. Logically and most simply, Violet would have arrived at the conclusion they had not encountered any scenarios requiring them to employ what they knew best. But then, what was it that they knew best anyway? What, of what little Violet could soundly recall, was the ‘best’ of them? This idea didn’t solve the original question, but it was very well something for Violet to think about for any answers when they finally came around.

Just like their first bout at this issue, Violet was snapped out of it by Brander as he waltzed back over and gave the purple mage a nudge on the shoulder. Brander made a quip about Violet’s current state like before, and some quick talk ensued before the two left the guild hall. They soon set back on Adversity’s roads, this time to temporarily leave the town and venture into its surrounding forest where the objects of their quest lay.

Figuring he could do something to make the downtime before their quest truly began, Brander tried to break the silence between him and Violet. “What’s your craft, Violet?”

“What?” Violet responded, much to Brander’s simultaneous relief and amusement. They spoke, so a conversation was in order, but again, it seemed Brander’s mileage would vary with his less-than direct words of choice.

“What field of magic do you practice?” Brander clearly reiterated.

“I’m unsure of what it would be classified as.”

“ Well, that’s interesting. Probably composite. ” Brander thought as he outwardly replied with a nod, “Can you compare it to anything… More understandable?”

“None.” said Violet after a moment of reflection.

“ Figures. ” Brander nodded again, before holding out his left hand and snapping its fingers quickly, transitioning to a thumbs-up. However, hovering right over his thumb was a small flame, like that burning from a candle, “What about anythin’ like this?”

Violet tilted their head at the small display. They were unsure if they could pull off anything similar, but that other part of their head encouraged them forward. Trying to replicate Brander’s snapping motion, nothing happened.

Violet squinted, and focused more as they repeated the action. Brander simply watched this go on, not interrupting the purple mage as they just kept snapping. Within the fire mage’s own mind, he could tell that there was just something building up with each snap Violet’s fingers did. Soon enough, this something manifested as little spark-like shocks on the surface of Violet’s snapping hand, exponentially growing more and more. Pale blue in color, a figurative light filled Violet’s eyes as they saw their magic surfacing.

What bright emotions were coming to Violet were quickly set aside as with a final snap, they unintentionally discharged a wild bolt of energy from their hand. It sounded off with a sudden crack, but managed to careen down into the road in front of them and become nothing but singed markings in the ground. The two magi halted in their tracks at the sudden occurrence, awkwardly staring at each other, before the flame-wielder of the duo cracked a reassuring smile.

“Well friend, that’s certainly something.” Brander patted Violet on the shoulder, continuing on, “I suspect that’d be some derivative of the electric arts.”

“Electricity?” the purple mage pondered, rubbing the hand that had accidentally lashed out.

“As far as I can gather, that little spark you just shot off has the characteristics of it. Though, it could also be an odd variation of fire magic.” Brander began to explain, “Tiny bolts like that as a whole are considered to be on the lower-end of any specific craft, really, so overlap’s plenty possible.

“How can you tell?” Violet inquired. For all they didn’t know, they felt inclined to seek the validity of Brander’s conclusions.

“Worked with plenty o’ magi back in my hay-day. The variety of folks and what they could do was quite a spectacle.”

“Interesting.” Violet nodded, deciding to prod for more, “I assume at least one among them was a practitioner of electricity based magic.”

“Several of us were, whether it be our primary trade or a compliment to something else.” Brander continued on, a nostalgic puff leaving his nose, “Fought along ‘em and others long enough to know who was who just by what they casted.”

“Fought?”

“Life o’ a battlemage. Put it simply.” Brander slightly shifted his cloak, revealing the grip and pommel of a sheathed sword.

“Whom were you in service to, if at all?” Violet pressed on. Recalling their encounter with some bandits the day prior, they’d find it hard to believe if Brander was another belligerent like them.

“Ah, I haven't heard that one in a while. The Kingdom of Redcliff , specifically at Fort Caminus as a man in one of their mage corps detachments.” Brander paused before quickly resuming for clarification, “It’s a small little outpost in eastern Kypediad , somewhere along the border with proper Redcliff territory.”

“How interesting.” Violet plainly replied. The Redcliff Kingdom , the subject of many of the history books the purple mage had parsed in the library. It was truly a noteworthy development to learn Brander is, or was, associated with them in some way. Thinking back, the colors of his spellbook, which seemed to be stored deep in his cloak at the moment, were similar to the covers of those historic texts.

“Do you come from the lands Redcliff occupies?” Violet once again asked. 

“Born and raised in Midas.” Brander pounded his chest with his fist.

“Its capital. I will assume that you received your education and certifications to be part of Redcliff’s army in your time there.”

“On the money. Would love to stop by there, but the walk is quite far and I don’t think any cross-region transport groups’ll be stopping by Adversity in particular.”

Violet nodded in acknowledgement as they thought of anything else to ask, soon coming up with another question, “How many facilities similar to libraries does Midas have?”

“Didn’t we go over that yesterday? That whole purpose thing of yours ain’t gonna be found in a few paragraphs in some random book.” Brander chuckled, “But seriously, a good few, at least back in my time. I haven’t a clue as to what my old home looks like now.”

“Should we ever visit, I would request that you show me to them.” Violet added, “The libraries, that is.”

“So you don’t wanna visit my parents? They’re good folks, would be swell to see their son for the first time in a while- With a new friend, no less.”

Violet went silent as they tried to process that particular case. Such a specific question threw their mind for a loop: pragmatism saying no , and that other part of their brain screaming yes .

“That should also be in order. To acquire shelter without charge.” Violet ultimately answered, earning a hearty laugh from Brander.

“Aye, that’s the spirit. Though, trust me, Midas’ inns are top-of-the-class all across Robloxia.”

“All that is relevant is their functionality as sheltering.” said Violet.

“Then you’d be in luck, but let’s save that for when we get there, if we do.”

“What of this ‘Fort Caminus’ you spoke of, as well?” Violet inquired, recalling that as another place of interest from Brander’s previous talk.

“Just what I said before, just some small Redcliff military installation some ways away east near the border between regions. Probably still there, it’s endured quite a few wars and battles. Nothing too exciting happened in my time there, unfortunately.” Brander explained.

“Visitation of it would be quite lower in possibility than Midas, am I correct?”

“Well, I’m not in service to Redcliff anymore and you certainly… Aren’t. So our position isn’t the best if we want to approach a more-than-likely heavily armed fortress.” Brander half-sarcastically replied, lingering on his deduction of Violet’s allegiences, “Enough about me. Though, what about you?”

“Personal information?”

“Well, yeah. Kinda. We best get to know each other.”

Violet let the idea float around in their head for a moment. Tell Brander more about themselves, for the purpose of better understanding one another. An easy task they thought.

“Hm.” Violet attempted to begin, before floundering as with many other things, they could recall nothing of substance.

“Don’t have’ta been anything too big. Just something, really. Like where’re ya from? Where’re your roots?” Brander clarified, hoping to get at least some morsel of info from his companion.

Despite that, Violet remained silent as their face again scrunched slightly. Mental gears turned and whirred, but produced nothing. Eventually, all Violet could say was a confirmation of that: nothing. “Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any information at this time.”

“You sure?” Brander raised an eyebrow, “Aside from your name, can’t you tell me anything?”

Violet shook their head in a reluctant affirmation. As much as this was now confusing Brander, it was having similar effects on the purple mage ten-fold. Why was there just so much nothing in their head? How had they not noticed the astounding emptiness that they were quickly learning encompassed much of their psyche? At first thought it could be chopped up to mental fog, that morning grogginess even. But now there was no excuse, and the final answer was still the same: nothing .

“... Nothing. Nothing at all.” Violet mumbled under their breath.

“That’s strange.” Brander cautiously remarked, “I didn’t expect you to have amnesia- I mean, that’s what I’m getting at here.”

“No. Everything… Here,” Violet gestured to the sides of their head, imitating Brander, “Is fine. My mental faculties are all functioning completely, as they should be - as they always have.”

“Your definition of complete in regards to what we’re talking about is woefully incomplete , I’ll be frank.” stated Brander bluntly as he tried to process what exactly Violet was saying here, “The mind loves to believe it’s all fine when it’s just a light gust away from collapsing in on itself. Like scaffolding with creaking supports, or none at all.”

“None… Nothing. No memories of..” dragged Violet as they sought to find the right thing to complete the sentence. Brander raised a brow, intrigued.

“Of what?” the mage of fire awaited an answer, eyes briefly darting forward as he and Violet encroached upon the tunneled-cave acting as a gate of sorts to Adversity. The two soldiers posted there stepped off to the side as the duo passed through, venturing into the surrounding woods.

“Of a…” Violet rubbed their temples, “Time long ago. Far before now.”

“ Childhood trauma perhaps. Subconscious block-outs? ” thought Brander as he nodded. “What about anything more recent?”

Violet thought long and hard to recall anything which spanned further than the current day, the day before, and the day before that. The more they tried searching through their brain at this point, they felt a small tug coming from somewhere. It finally seemed like they were making progress, if extremely slowly, to the questioning word of ‘think’. For a few moments, Violet was silent before their face lit up with a small smile.

It was short lived however as soon after, Violet felt a sharp ache resound through their skull. Akin to a headache, but with the intensity of a hammer pounding on nails, Violet was forced to a knee from the pain as it abruptly intensified.

“W-wake… Home...?” Violet croaked as they tried to support themselves on a nearby tree. Brander moved quickly to assist, helping the purple mage to their feet.

“Don’t strain yourself. If it’s too much- just forget about it.” Brander advised, all focus placed on how the act of thinking seemed to be causing his friend actual pain.

“No-” groaned Violet with a large mental push, “A… A small place… Amongst the plains… Home- Or-”

Brander listened as Violet seemed to slowly recover. The purple mage could still feel their mind being assaulted with manifestations of some force willing them to stop, but it grew smaller and smaller the more they said. The more they thought .

“Beginning.” Violet said, voice clear of any pain and even possessing a slight hint of surprise, “Where this began.”

Violet again gestured to the side of their head, and Brander picked up on it all. Letting out a huff filled with both relief, amusement, and interest, the former Redcliff mage plainly remarked.

“Guess we’ve got a lot more than your purpose, to find.”

“Indeed.” Violet said with a sense of… Determination? What neutrality their demeanor typically held had been nearly erased. There were far too many questions that needed answers, and this ‘breakthrough’ had ensured the path to them was one Violet would surely take.

Brander was about to reply when the sudden wild rustling of a nearby bush caught the attention of both magi. Remembering the quest he signed them up for, a brief smirk appeared on his face as he channeled a controlled orb of fire in his hand.

“But for now, we hunt.” the fire mage spoke with figurative flames in his eyes. 

Imitating their friend, Violet tried to conjure some of that electricity-like magic between their fingers. A few pale blue sparks flew, but died out. Brander chuckled, running off in the direction of the next bout of rustling foliage.

“You’ll get there, eventually!”

Brander simply yelled as he charged. Violet followed and joined in the pursuit of a hypothetical rabbit or similar with equal vigor. Whatever it was the magi began their chase on, it’d have them thinking quickly on how to catch it.

---

  The midday sun was a pleasant light on the lush, green forest trail that Norman and Hina tread on. It had been about an hour or two since they left the bandit camp in search of something to spend the day doing, with the latter of the two taking the lead in that regard. So far it was only this walk which they occupied themselves with. The lead thief had promised her swordsman companion she’d help him find a suitable task, activity, or whatever else so he wouldn’t spend another day aimlessly training or just getting by. The wholehearted trust Norman initially had in Hina for that was slowly cracking as their march went on. If only just because it was turning out to be far longer than he’d prefer, even if one of the things he wanted to achieve in this was gaining as much distance from the camp as possible.

Deciding to voice his not-necessarily frustrations, but rather minor annoyances at his cloaked friend, Norman forced his quickly-weary legs up to Hina’s rather brisk pace. Getting level with her in pace, he let out a dry cough. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.” Hina simply replied, wrapping an arm around the swordsman like she had when their walk started.

“And why does this ‘somewhere’ require us to walk for this long?” exasperated Norman, slightly panting as his stamina slowly caved from trying to both talk and walk.

“Because it’s somewhere that bandits like us would like to be close to, but definitely shouldn’t be for a lot of reasons.” Hina said.

Norman raised a brow at that particularly specific description. “A… City?”

“A bit smaller than that.” Hina corrected, a smile playing off her largely shadowed features.

“A town- Wait,” Norman’s eyes briefly widened as he started narrowing down what options he had in guessing, “Adversity?”

“Wanted it to be a surprise, but you got it.” mumbled Hina, lightly bumping her head against Norman’s. In response to her affirmation, the swordsman tiredly extricated himself from her grasp.

“Nope.” plainly said Norman.

“Why not?”

“I just-” Norman began to reply as he was immediately stonewalled, unable to come up with anything he was willing to say, “ We don’t have enough money to get anywhere in that village.”

In a wordless reply, Hina dug one of her hands into her cloak and produced a decently sized leather pouch. Undoing the knot sealing it, she gave Norman a quick glimpse into a rattling pool of gold and silver coins. The light of the sun seemed to shine and reflect off each individual tiny disc - a characteristic practically shared with the truly wide eyes on Norman’s face.

“H-... How…?! ” Norman gasped at all the money. A rush of various emotions began to cloud his judgment the longer he stared at it. More immediate, impulsive things like jealousy and confusion, but as well, worry . As far as he knew and could guess, Hina was carrying at least several wages of coin when compared to most consistently paying jobs in Adversity. And without a moral compass that was either heavily screwed or non-existent, it was unlikely bandits like them could ever acquire that much cash within any reasonable timeframe.

“Dedication and priorities.” Hina mumbled without any explanation.

“That isn’t a straight answer. I mean, like… How many people did you need to rob and… kill for it all?” Norman continued, hesitantly letting the last words out. It was at that moment that he really remembered what he and Hina were at the end of the day. Criminals by technicality. Whatever he had with Hina came second to the proof of her very much partaking in the less savory side of the already despicable practice of banditry.

“N… None.” Hina slightly tensed, perturbed by Norman’s direct assumption she’d murdered for her money, “No one died and I only nabbed from th-those with deep pockets. Not even by a lot. Even if those guys may or may not have had very good reasons to be removed from this mortal coil but that’s besides the point- ” she began rambling, grip on her companion tightening subconsciously.

“I- I swear, I earned all this without spilling a lethal amount of blood.” Hina stowed the pouch back away in her robes, “And I’m going to spend it helping you in any way I can.”

“Such as…?” a brow on Norman’s face raised again.

“ Anything . You name it, I’ll see you get it.”

“That’s a bit much.” the swordsman rebutted.

“So..?” asked Hina inquisitively, “Isn’t that what friends do? Stick out for each other the best they can?”

“Well- Yeah. But not actively seeking out to get their necks cut in the process,” Norman shrugged, “I didn’t know you had all that money, but there’s better things to do than waste it like that.”

“If we get anything out of any of it, then it isn’t a waste. Not to me.”

“We’re bandits at the end of the day, Hina. You can’t keep stealing from others forever, whether it be a few coins or their whole life fortunes. It isn’t sustainable practically… And as hypocritical it is to say, morally either.”

“Then I’ll use this money to make us more money in ways we won’t regret.” Hina answered, her tone growing adamant, “Your dream is to become a famous mercenary, right?”

“Pfft… Yeah. And the only reason I joined up with Gravel’s lot is because that never happened.” Norman huffed, dragging on those words.

“We can put it towards something that’ll get you there- That’ll make it happen .” 

“I appreciate how forward you are with this, but that’s just not feasible.” Norman shook his head, “It’s a big, stupid dream I’ve long buried that can’t be achieved with just money. It’s never that easy.”

“Then dust it off and work towards it, or whatever else is on your mind. Nothing good in life comes easy.” Hina argued, “And half of the time you’re left questioning all the work you put in next to the resultant fruits. But it’s better to do that than keep walking somewhere you know leads nowhere.” the thief stopped in her tracks, the swordsman following suit.

“I guess.”

“Like you said, what I’ve done to get my money isn’t something I can keep up in the long run- And we both know that the Gravel Bandits won’t be around long enough to account for that.” Hina continued, “We need to find something else to do with our lives, something that is feasible.”

“Mercenary work in of itself just doesn’t fall under that. It’s too unpredictable.” Norman replied, “You can’t really be sought after for contracts if no one knows you. Nor can make a name for yourself if no one hires you. Between all that are monetary problems, keeping yourself alive…”

“Take all of those one step at a time. We’re not going to sell ourselves out to some feuding lords from the get-go.”

“I’m just thinking about the big picture-”

“It’s way too big. Narrow your sights,” Hina firmly said, “Thinking about too many things at once ensures you don’t actually get to deal with any of them.”

“Then what do you say we start with?” Norman plainly asked, an unexpected sarcasm evident in his voice, “Sure. Let’s be mercenaries. Now we need to figure out how to get an employer, how to prove to them we’re worth a decent amount of gold, how to negotiate a contract that won’t inadvertently turn ourselves into someone else’s property, and how to-”

“Sh-shut up.” Hina interrupted Norman’s spiel, pouting.

The swordsman noted Hina’s displeasure with his ramblings, and aptly ceased his proper frustrations. Breathing a heavy sigh, Norman did not know what else to say to her at the moment. All he knew was that he was trying to shoot down an offer from one of his closest friends to chase his long-time dream, talking down upon it like a bad afterthought.

“Sorry.” Norman grumbled, scratching his head like it had an incessant itch, “My head’s just not here right now.”

Hina saw the weary expression which marred her companion’s features, and took action to try and rectify it. “N-no need. We all have moments like that… Only seeing the problems in everything.”

Letting out another breath, Norman’s mood brightened slightly at Hina’s understanding. “Just- thank you for being far too nice to a guy like me. But really, where do we start at all?”

“Small things. Really small things. Odd-jobs, community service- We can get to fighting for others and whatnot later.” smiled the thief, fidgeting under her cloak as she produced her money pouch again, “I didn’t wake up and decide to steal everything in this sack in an hour. I took tiny bits and pieces over days and weeks. Heck, I didn’t even do well enough to get so much as a scrap of copper initially...”

Hina paused, leaving Norman to contemplate her words. He could easily draw what comparison she was getting at, which was then further explained after a while. “We all start somewhere small, even if less-than-ideal when trying to do certain kinds of things that we want to. But how we move forward from that place to go higher in our pursuits is what really makes a difference. That’s what makes our dreams, no matter how ‘stupid’... Come true.”

“And you’re not alone. You’ve got me, Slick, Slough… We’ll be there to catch you if you fall.” Hina added, smile beaming.

Nodding, Norman abruptly hugged Hina. The thief reacted to the gesture with a bit of surprise, but quickly reciprocated it in full. After a moment that seemed to be too brief for the two of them, the swordsman let go.

“Thank you.” Norman sighed again, his weariness replaced with a subdued optimistism. “Onwards to Adversity, then?”

“Hi-ho, and away we go!” Hina cheered, prompting a chuckle from her friend. 

Spirits renewed and heads held high, the two continued their walk through the forest path to Adversity. Towards what they hoped to be the start to a better future for the both of them, and more.

---

At the entrance to the town of Adversity remained the two soldiers who Violet and Brander had passed by. The same ones who the former had interacted with the day prior. 

“Pike… Pike! Wake up!” the first and female guard, Sharpe, nudged her sleepy colleague.

All she got for a response were increasingly loud snores, and the visual indicator that the man might fall over any minute if his spear was not acting like an impromptu crutch.

“I swear to the Grand Constructor himself.” Sharpe seethed as she bumped the bottom of her fist down on Pike’s helmet, causing the sleeping guardsman to wake with a start.  

“Gah! Halt!” the slacking member of Adversity’s militia yelped as he snapped to attention, bringing his polearm down and brandishing it to the air in front of him.

“Sometimes I wonder why you even decide to post yourself here if all you do half the time is nap.” Sharp sighed.

“Why… Why do you have a problem with that now…?” Pike yawned, reorienting himself.

“I don’t necessarily- it’s just a question. A question I’d like the answer to, since it seems you’ve started delving deeper into dreamland every time you dozed off.”

“My pay...” Pike let out another, much lengthier yawn, “What else is there you need to know?”

Sharpe shrugged, her brief ire dissipated. “Fair enough.  

“So why’d ya wake me?”

“Two incoming folks, adventurers maybe.” Sharpe plainly said, eyeing a pair of oncoming figures in the distance. One seemed to be wrapped in a cloak, the other a man wearing light armor with the handle of a sword clearly reaching over his back.

Pike’s posture grew slightly more rigid and professional at the reason, furthering as he spotted the individuals in question approaching. Oddly, the swordsman seemed to pause mid-way through Adversity’s entrance ‘tunnel’. An almost confused glare shot from him towards Adversity’s soldiers as his face was barely illuminated by a combination of torchlight and natural sunlight from the guards’ side of the tunnel. Perhaps he hadn’t expected there to be an armed presence greeting him and his companion at the entrance to a fairly secluded, small town. A logical if surface-level rationality, but one that drew suspicion from the formerly drowsy guardsman.

Pike kept those assumptions to himself however, which proved to work out soon enough. The pair of seeming adventurers drew closer, and the swordsman resumed his nervous expression while particularly facing Sharpe. His cloaked companion was in equal measures as skeptical as Pike when, appearing to be a she, saw Sharpe staring similarly back at the swordsman in return. The non-dumbfounded members of the two pairs shared an awkward connection at that moment, shrugging without a clue as to how to explain their companions’ behavior.

They both received some form of answer when the two began conversing.

“Ah, Sharpe… It’s been a while.” the swordsman spoke with a less-than enthusiastic tone.

“Norman.” Sharpe nodded, trying to keep up a composed air to her words. She was quickly failing, for one reason or another.

“Have you been… Well?” Norman tried to give an honest smile, but quivering lips contorted it back to a strange frown.

“Yes, I have been. Thank you.” Sharpe replied straight, visibly gulping. Norman was about to continue on with whatever he had to say, before the female guard followed up, “May we speak privately?”

Pike raised a brow at the question, which reached its crux as far as his facial muscles would allow after Sharpe stepped forward to whisper something else. Momentarily, she nodded at him as if to communicate… Something. Slowly nodding in reply, Pike didn’t know what else to do. The female guard and swordsman walked off elsewhere out of vision, and presumably earshot, leaving the other guard alone with Norman’s cloaked companion.

 A small cough from her drew Pike’s attention, as the guardsman coughed in return. He awkwardly followed up with a short introduction to himself. “Hello… I’m Pike… I stand guard for Adversity and… Yeah, that’s about it.”

“Hina.” the cloaked figure squeaked, visibly tightening her robes around herself. She seemed to be on the verge of panic, from what Pike could tell.

“Can… Can I ask you something?” the guardsman spoke, rapidly returning to his usually tired demeanor.

Hina’s hood shifted slightly in an up-and-down movement, indicating her willingness to answer.

“Wake me when they come back.” Pike let out a tiny yawn, supporting himself on his polearm and letting himself drift off to ‘dreamland’ as Sharpe put it.

Hina tilted her head slightly at the request before letting out a sound of surprise at how quick Pike had been nap. The guard’s clearly easy-going nature gave her a reason to relax, to which she did once he began snoring. 

“I will.” Hina gave Pike the slightest of smiles.

Loosening up, she glanced at where Norman and Sharpe had left: A wall of natural green which seemed to be just the forests outside of Adversity trying to make their place in the town. Her physical tension turned to mental work, wondering what reason they had to excuse themselves like that. Nothing good, she thought.

And like that, she found herself clutching at her robes again, reluctant to look off into the rest of the town that was Adversity in the distance.  

---

Norman and Sharpe trodded through the green groves which made up much of the most outward ‘layer’ oAdversity just short of its surrounding rocky walls. The only thing to fill the silence between them was the rustling and crunching of foliage and leaves as they waded through bushes and other forestry farther and farther from where they’d started. The swordsman was surprised to have seen her here, but something within him prevented anything more than just faltering in words. Likewise went for the guard who, for all the faces that could have belonged to the travelers or adventurers she would have met a few minutes ago, was conflicted about the one on the man following her.

After a little longer, the two reached a small clearing with part of the backdrop being filled by a rough, stoney wall. Norman stopped as soon as Sharpe did, and he was faced with her back as she remained silent. He did as well, and inferred that the two of them were wondering what the hell they should even say to each other. If anything could be gathered from their first words, it had been quite a while.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to see your folks.” Sharpe turned to face Norman, her voice possessing a slight degree of contempt. She took off her helmet.

Norman didn’t know how to respond, nor what she was asking from that. He felt his stomach knot slightly the longer he failed to speak, blinking eyes betraying his nervousness. Sharpe’s gaze did not falter, nearing a scowl while she stared daggers into the swordsman. Taking the initiative, Sharpe followed up in Norman’s silence.

“Why’d you go and disappear? It’s been half a year.”

“I just got… A bit overambitious with trying to be a merc.” Norman meekly replied, concealing the fact he’d become the kind of person Sharpe would run her spear through.

“And? Did it work out well? Good enough to the point you never showed your face here every once in a while?” Sharpe followed, “Just how luxuriously were you treated by your employers for your hard work?”

Norman knew that Sharpe wasn’t expecting a clear answer from anything she was asking. He had nothing good to reply with if he were to be completely honest.

“How were all those big cities, ripe with more opportunity than little old Adversity had to offer? Places that made your goal of fame and glory that much closer? Places that were so great, you never felt the need to write just a short letter back?”

“I- I don’t know. I never got that far.” Norman spoke, that much being factual.

“Then what? Why were you gone for so long- And where…” Sharpe’s tone grew firm, but impulsive emotion soon followed, “Where’d you take my sister?”

“S-Slick? I didn’t-”

“You’re one of her best friends, and I know damn well the night she ran away from home she wouldn’t be aimlessly wandering. She’s better than that. She’s better than whatever you roped her into.” Sharpe accused.

“I didn’t do anything to her. I didn’t hurt her, I didn’t talk her into anything. She- she came along with me, but out of her own volition.” Norman admitted, still concealing the full picture.

“Then where is she? Why isn’t she here with you, why isn’t Slough here either? And who’s that shady person? Do they have something to do with all this?”

“Y-your problem’s with me. Don’t bring th- her into this.” Norman replied, raising his voice slightly in Hina’s defense.

“My problem’s with that damned dream of yours.” Sharpe’s breath hitched, “Everything’s gone to shit because of it. My parents and I don’t know where my sister is, your parents have been worried like all hell because their son left them without so much of a ‘goodbye’, and Slough’s thinks he’s dead .”

“They’re… They’re fine. They’re all fine.” Norman felt a pang of guilt as he picked up on Sharpe’s uneasy speech. Those kinds of thoughts had occasionally eaten at him on some less savory nights back at the Gravel Bandits’ camp, but to hear them be laid out in front of him like that was a reality-checking punch in the face.

“I won’t believe that until they’re right in front of me. I won’t believe that after six months of absolute silence, they’re just still out there .” Sharpe began to rapidly break further, wiping away periodic tears.

Norman was at a loss. Nothing except that very act would make any of this right. Without any other option left at his disposal, he swallowed hard, and spoke.

“They’re coming home.” Norman’s own voice was troubled now, “I promise on my life.”

It could be said that was a bit dramatic, but the swordsman was adamant on his word. As much as it was a promise to Sharpe, it was also one to himself. All the turmoil back here in his home that he’d apparently stoked wasn’t something he was going to just sleep off. Not when it extended to people so close to him. Not when it all came from a goal he hastily tried to pursue in some break from the monotony of Adversity which he and his friends, Sharpe included, once enjoyed together.

“I swear, on...” Norman tried to continue, but failed to find anything else to add without overdoing it. Sharpe seemed to receive his vow well enough, as she swiftly dried the last of her tears and donned her helmet.

“Actions, not words. Reality, not dreams.” Sharpe spoke as she began to walk back to her post, suddenly hugging Norman as she passed as if to make sure he was actually there. The brief embrace threw the swordsman off for a moment, but soon served to reinforce how important his next moves would be.

---

  Norman wordlessly followed Sharpe back to where they had been at first, and after some somewhat forced pleasantries to ease their respective waiting partners, the two pairs returned to their tasks. The guards of Adversity remained vigilant in their post, while the traveling ‘adventurers’ continued into the town to get what they needed done. 

But it would not be as simple as that.

“You alright…?” Pike cautiously asked, the light whispers of Hina not having woken him when he’d requested her alarm. Despite that, Sharpe hadn’t remarked on his drowsy habit just yet.

Hands clenched tight around her lance, Sharpe shook her head lightly as she stared into the tunnel-like cave which the road into Adversity led through. “No.”

“Something to do with that guy… Norman?” Pike continued, earning him his comrade’s silence. After some time, she spoke again.

“You know how I wanted to travel around the land as a cavalier?”

“...Yeah?”

“I think I’d rather stay home now.”

---

Another day had passed, and another night fell upon Adversity. As the town slipped into a collective sleep, Brander and Violet returned to the inn with the former in possession of a sack of coins as the spoils of their hunt. Having nabbed a fair few small game, and ‘preheating them’ in regards to Brander’s catches, the pair had left quite the impression on the members of Adversity’s guild hall. In an inverse of the previous night, the mage of fire had decided to retire to rest early while his purple-clad companion spent more time outside.

The bright glow of the moon high above in the dark, deep blue skies gave Violet something to gaze at as they loitered about. It was one of many things that Violet had ‘taken for granted’ throughout their ‘life’. Or more fittingly, the time they had spent existing without any greater recognition of their being, the time they had spent without seemingly thinking . While that seemed to risk them spiraling back into an indefinite loop of answerless self-questioning, the mage felt more inclined to tackle such a bout with what they had learned about themselves today.

“ A small place, amidst the plains. Where this ‘began’. ” Violet thought in moon-gazing.

Abstract, nonsensical, and somewhat on-the-nose, it was above all a start on the long journey ahead to gaining some answers for Violet’s many questions. It was also, at this point, the ‘oldest’ memory Violet could recall. Two small achievements, or as Brander would have put it, ‘killing two birds with one stone’. Violet had heard the pyromancer mention that phrase during their hunt, and even with everything else in their head, could not fathom why or how such a feat was possible.

The pointless, but amusing thought brought a small smile to their face, which grew into a chuckle. A very light laugh. There, again, another objectively small and insignificant thing which was utterly new to Violet but managed to make an impact on the mage. “ Kill three birds with the same stone, now. ” Violet awkwardly appended the figure of speech, noting this development.

After the mental high of these positive thoughts and developments however, came something else. As their laughter subsided, Violet could only take in how eerie, the streets of Adversity had become now. Unpopulated and dark save for some torch and lantern-light, nothing but the wind and creaking of signposts filled their ears. While the skies, stars and moon above were wholly visible, one could not make out anything more than a few meters in front of them should the lights be snuffed out.

That would include anyone as well. Thinking back to their trek here, Violet recalled that the attempt on their life and possessions could be classified as an ‘ambush’. An abrupt surprise attack. Had it not been for the sloppiness of their aggressors, they would not have been alerted and as quick to react. Hell, the probability of them outright dying if they remained ignorant was frighteningly high in hindsight.

If some thick forest assisted that much, then the pitch darkness of the night would provide the ultimate cover for anyone or anything with malevolent intentions. As far as Violet could concern themselves, they wouldn’t know what would strike until it was far too late.

And that scared them. Made them fearful .

Whether they liked it or not, Violet had to add in less than desirable elements to their emotional and psychological resume. It made sense logically, all sentient beings typically had something which elicited negative reactions like fear. But even so, that baseline emotion seemed to override all else. Another development, but one Violet would rather ponder on elsewhere.

With that, they aptly retired to inside the inn, not wanting to stay out in the dark any longer.

Notes:

A long one. Hope you enjoyed.

Chapter 5: Cemetery in Recluse

The crunch of a steel shovel sounded through the clearing as it dug into the earth, digging into the soil as the first step in creating a cavity. A pile of dirt and muck was thrown from its original place of being soon after, joining a pile nearby as their residence was made hollow. For a brief reprieve, the shovel was lodged into the earth standing upright while its user walked off. Moments later, they returned with a large burlap-wrapped object. Staring down into the hole of their creation, they set the thing- a body , down into the natural crevice before taking their shovel and beginning the process of re-covering it with the pile of natural matter. Once finished, they took a gaze at their work, a lone, dull visible eye peeking from behind their hood.

“May you find peace.” the Grave-Digger and Keeper, Gravel , spoke as he bowed his head.

He retrieved a wooden plank with a triangular end from a nearby cart, almost like a flat stake, and lodged it into the ground just on the edge of the newly replaced dirt patch. A marker for a newly born grave. One of many, which served to constitute much of this space. For the forest clearing the leader of the Gravel Bandits found himself in was not devoid of man-made intervention. It was instead, a garden of the long-since fallen: a graveyard .

With a heavy breath, the bandit commander moved to a plot of land next to the newly created grave while wheeling his cart along. More burlap-wrapped individuals and wooden headstones laid in the cart, rumbling slightly as they were moved. Gravel drove his shovel back into the ground, shoveling more dirt and soil until a new hole was made. Then, he placed another body and recovered it with the flesh of the earth. Marking the new grave with another stake, he went along to repeat this again.

And again, and again.

For an undetermined period of the day, Gravel spent his waking hours burying dozens of bodies of various sizes and forms. He spoke nothing but rites and phrases one would associate with a formal funeral for each long-gone body he laid to rest. Midday clouds came and passed, the sky brightening and darkening in equal measures while the Grave-Keeper performed his work. Unperturbed, undisturbed, one could see this as some mortifying and twisted hobby. But for Gravel, it served as something else.

Then, somewhere around the afternoon, Gravel’s muscles tensed as his nostrils flared. Up till now the graveyard had been devoid of the typical stench, rot and decay many would expect from one such as this. But for some reason, as if the smell was being siphoned from each corpse whether buried or yet-to-be, it was making itself clear. It wasn’t so much the smell itself that threw the bandit leader off, not so much as a flinch due to the putrid fragrance coming from him, but its presence which sent a feeling of unease through the outwardly detached and free-living brigand. Soon, a series of slow footsteps accompanied the odor of rot.

“Oh… How rude of you to ignore a visitor, Gaia .” the owner of the steps spoke in a low rasp, the sound of their throat nearly melding into one buzzing vocalization.

“Do not mock me with that long-gone title, you decrepit disgrace.” Gravel adamantly replied. His grip on his shovel grew tighter, while his gaze slowly turned to meet the visitor straight-on.

Standing across from Gravel while his back was turned was a practically bastardized mirror-image of himself. A similarly cloaked figure, black fabric concealing much of his form but portions of armor like pauldrons poking out. A set of seemingly glowing purple-pink eyes leered through the shadow of a cowl, attached to a boney form with dull grey skin like he was a shambling corpse a few hours into rigor mortis. 

In one hand this figure held a pronged staff with a purple orb hovering in between two stag-like pincers. In the other, some kind of tome colored in numerous shades of green which contrasted with everything about his appearance. He flaunted the book, a clear smirk cracking from behind the shadow of his hood.

“I would suggest you adhere to the old rule of respecting your elders.” the figure spoke with arrogance. A purple-pink haze seemed to swirl around his hand which held the green tome.

As if on instinct or otherwise, Gravel immediately backed off. An audible grunt sounded from him as he saw the figure’s actions with the spellbook. This reaction was enough for the man across from him to relent, letting out an ear-grating chuckle as the magic dissipated.

“Hah. Still sentimental over this worn beginner’s grimoire. It can’t raise a corpse half as efficiently as my own methods.” the man - a Necromancer, taunted.

“What do you seek, Mortivant ?” Gravel scowled as his voice still displayed contempt, but his choice of words proved much more cautious in lieu of any consequences.

“Just to act as an emissary for my masters. They have deemed… This time to be most opportune for our dealings.“ Mortivant vaguely spoke, “Especially, with such a large disposition of soldiers within these soils.”

“Not a speck of your magic will sow the seeds of undeath. They must rest.” Gravel retorted.

“Oh, indeed. Immediate resurrection may prove problematic if the vessels have not fully decayed.” Mortivant replied.

Gravel huffed, noting the Necromancer’s dodgy answer. “What are you to compel them to do, this time?”

“All will be revealed shortly, once my masters’ plans are set into motion.”

“You have answered me the same way each and every other time a body or a dozen have been siphoned from these grounds for your schemes.”

“It may not be clear now, but rest assured, you will understand in time.”

“‘Time’ is an unanswering case.” Gravel leered, “For how much time have I been made to do what you ask? And for how much time have you evaded my inquiries?”

“For an amount which will only further increase the more you incessantly prod. Just take a moment to cease your thoughts, it will be beneficial going forward.”

“Do not expect me to become just another of your peons, except with their flesh and bone intact.”

“I wouldn’t think anything less of the one formerly known as The Redeemer .” Mortivant gave a boney smirk, dark energies surrounding the tome again. Gravel’s knuckles whitened as his grip on his shovel grew stronger, holding back from lashing out as his head registered a lapse in his judgment.

“I apologize.” the bandit leader reluctantly stated, earning a somewhat surprised but satisfied look from the Necromancer as he relented on his second threat of the spellbook, “What is it that you shall have me do?”

“Hm. Wise decision to keep at least a modicum of the respect those nonsensical tales and bard-songs claim you- Or the old you, to have had.” Mortivant remarked before continuing, “As I said before, I am but an emissary. My main purpose here is to monitor the progression of operations relative to their plans, and it has been deemed satisfactory.”

Gravel nodded, putting on a fake aura of respect- But not reverence, towards the Necromancer. “Is there anything else to be noted?”

“Simply carry on as you are doing. You shall be called upon when the time is right.”

“Understood.” Gravel nodded again, eyeing the tome which Mortivant still clutched in his hand. The sight causing anger to subconsciously seethe within the bandit leader.

“And don’t worry, Inviere shall be returned once all is said and done.” Mortivant gave another taunting smile, with Gravel’s brows furrowing in response. In a chuckle, the orb on the Necromancer’s staff pulsated with energy before bursting in a cloaking cascade. It fell, encompassing the dark mage before dissipating and leaving nothing in its wake.

“There will come a day where I lay my final body into this Earth, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t yours.” the Grave Keeper murmured, continuing on with his business of burying the fallen amassed on a nearby cart with both haste and disdain-turned motivation.

It would be another few hours until the Earth below Gravel’s feet and his shovel knew rest, the only things populating his cart were small remnants and residual specks of blood flies gathered around. Hefting his rusted tool over his shoulders, Gravel returned to the abandoned military camp he and his bandits had settled in by the evening. He briefly engaged in one-sided discussion or acknowledged greetings both fearful and respectful from his underlings, before setting the cart near the center of the area as he retreated to his quarters. Once night fell and he shut his eyes, his mind refreshed itself to focus on the tasks at hand for the day tomorrow.

As that new day dawned, he set out back to where the cart was. Several new bodies lay in it. Returning to his hand-made cemetery, he resumed his work. Digging a hole, setting a corpse and burying the grave. Digging hole, setting corpse, burying grave.

Digging.

Setting.

Burying.

---

“How goes your day, Gaia ?” Mortivant inquired as he teleported into the reclusive graveyard, trampling over several freshly-dug graves as Gravel continued his work. It had been roughly two days since their last interaction, and the sudden insertion of the Necromancer on these grounds only got an annoyed grunt from the Grave Digger.

Pausing in his work, Gravel set his shovel into the soil. “Fine. What do you require of me now?”

“Nothing major. Just some time to listen to what my masters need to have conveyed. I trust these are acceptable terms, correct?” Mortivant smugly explained. This time around, he didn’t have that spellbook - the Inviere - on him. It brought Gravel some relief, but also hammered the idea that he needed to pick his words wisely.

“Indeed. Please, elaborate.” Gravel spoke, putting one hand on his shovel.

“It has come to their attention that other assets have… Been inadequate in carrying out their duties. Whether it be tardiness in results, or none at all. The Korblox for example, why, they’re like a stone lodged deep into the very bottom of a river.”

“Enduring, but ultimately headed on a path to nowhere.” Gravel remarked, earning an irritating smile from the Necromancer.

“They are the largest of any proxies under their command, yet have had some of the smallest strategic yields relative to their size in recent times.” Mortivant added.

“Aren’t they engaged in war with the Redcliff Kingdom? Or at least, their fifth ?”

“Indeed, and it’s bogged down to their previous four. Gone cold, one could say. Unacceptable for what my masters have in store.”

Gravel was about to inquire further about the last part of the Necromancer’s reply, but given the last time he’d acted as such, nothing was brought out of it. He simply nodded, waiting for further explanation.

“They may have served a proper long-term distraction should their will have been strong enough to seriously entertain a conflict against one of the biggest superpowers on this continent. But their traditional impotence and stagnation has led to them being but a write-off in the eyes of the Redcliff as of late.”

“Action is to be taken now, correct?” Gravel lifted his shovel, resting it on his shoulders.

The Necromancer gave another unsettling smile. “While less-than-effective, there is some benefit to have been drawn from the Korblox’s initial endeavors. Other proxies have begun marching against largely isolated villages within the region and around Robloxia - Places the Redcliff are not able to allot major resources to given their most immediate enemy. Maybe the odd knight or two if things become quite problematic, but nothing which serves as a major blockade to progress.”

“Then…”

“The souls of the fallen here shall be called upon later. But know that you will need to act.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Why, the closest village to you and your band of brigands and cutthroats. Adversity .”

Gravel’s brows furrowed at the mention of the town. One of the many areas of business his underlings preyed upon, and the place where a good lot of his own came from. Though from what he learned from those who chose it as their operational territory, there was a good reason why they stuck to just the roads surrounding the settlement. “They’ve got quite the militia stationed there. Trained and maintained by Redcliff advisors at least twice a month.”

“Hmm! Observant. Well, then that’ll mean you will march later on once this little investment of yours is cashed-in full.” Mortivant replied, gesturing to the sea of graves surrounding both men.

“What will become of its people?” Gravel spoke, his tone firm.

“What sort of inquiry is this?” Mortivant tilted his head slightly, his hood shifting to the side, “Is it not obvious? They’d become part of our forces. Whether willingly, or not. It depends upon how you may command over your troops.”

After a brief pause, the Necromancer continued. “Or lack thereof, with what criminals and savages have festered within your group. Not that I’m complaining, they’ll do well to give me more resources to work with.”

Again, Gravel felt some anger build up in him against Mortivant, and this time a bit of it seeped out into his speech despite his efforts at suppression. “At this point, there would be no difference if it were I or you ‘leading’ them.”

“Not willing to take responsibility for the blood on the hands of others in your name, I see?” Mortivant taunted.

Not finding the words to reply, Gravel slowly returned to his prior work while listening.

“Once Inviere ’s returned to you, you should have no problem redeeming yourself.” the Necromancer continued with his verbal jabs. “That time will come eventually, once you’ve earned the right to wield it again.”

Gravel paused, pondering on those words. Before he could respond, Mortivant followed up. “And that could be soon, depending on how you deal with Adversity.”

“Understood.” Gravel spoke again with that forced voice of respect, resuming his duties. As he laid another corpse into the Earth, the Necromancer parted again.

Letting out a heavy huff once he was sure Mortivant was surely gone, Gravel stared down at the worn hands which had carried out all of what he had done for much of his life in recent times. Calloused, scratched and rashed in all sorts of places in the name of work without rest.

“ To think these hands which once buried the dead raised those from the brink and beyond. ”

“ To think they belonged to the symbol of life itself. ”

“ I am a fool. ” Gravel thought aloud, taking his shovel and stepping out of the grave to cover it with more soil.

Chapter 6: Survival of The Fittest

“Rise and shine.” Slick nudged a still-asleep Slough, stretching herself soon after. The axe-wielding brigand was still out like a light despite how tall the sun stood high above, rays beaming through the opening in the trees above the two bandits as usual. 

All Slick received as reply was a series of light snores, prompting her to gently grab the former lumberjack by the shoulders and give him a shake. Still, nothing. She poked him in the cheeks, on the forehead. He was a sack of bricks. She sighed, the problem of getting her friend awake now being added to a long list, right behind the fact neither of them had eaten properly in a few days.

“The talk a few days ago really took a lot outta ya..? Sorry.” the usually cocky lancer mumbled to herself, crouching down to Slough’s level. Glancing around to make sure they were both alone, she did something that she probably never would’ve under any circumstances if the lumberjack was awake.

She leaned forward, and hugged him.

But even that did nothing. Exasperated- But partly relieved that Slough didn’t wake up mid-embrace, Slick chuckled and sat down against the bark behind him as he slept. Cradling her lance, she closed her eyes and began to list off a variety of things which were on her mind.

“No money. No food. No water. Not really many friends… And we’re long ways away from any. Thinking about that, not really a sense of direction either- Not in my head. Crap.”

She bit her thumb as she continued to expand on this list of problems shared between her and Slough at the moment. A grumble bellowed from her lungs as an unwanted sense of care overtook her nerves, worrying far too much about how those issues would impact them in the long-run. Regardless of however long she could deal with them.

But, since they were both here, that had to be proof she and him were both adequate. Right? There was some merit to be found in their continued endurance despite their situation. Survival is what she had been taught to believe this kind of living to be, being able to persevere without cushions or coddling. It was at least what Slick wanted to believe: the fact both she and Slough were still breathing was enough to validate their actions up to this point, as some efforts for ‘survival’, even if their most notable act was nearly getting themselves maimed by a particular violet mage.

But her opinion was not her being object. Such rarely is ever so among any given individual. She and Slough needed to go somewhere which would ensure their survival. Somewhere that dealt with the most practical of their problems - food and water - first and foremost. And the only place that either of them knew well of…

“Back to camp it is, better get walking.” Slick grumbled, the base of operations of their ‘employers’ being the only refuge she and her friend could attend, “... Once he wakes up.” she continued, giving a sidelong glance to a still-sleeping Slough.

The lumberjack showed no signs of waking, and this soon enough convinced Slick to catch a few more minutes of rest. Soft snores soon escaped her lips, eyes shutting just moments later.

 

---

 

Slough yawned with a loud bellow as he slowly stretched around-and-about in his seated position, bumping his head against the tree he was against. Mumbling an incoherent grunt of annoyance, he stood up and quickly patted himself down. Nothing stolen, nor anything hurt. Another successful night sleeping out in the open forest at the mercy of the elements, he noted.

His attention was quickly turned to his right as the snores of Slick soon reached his ears, a skeptical expression coming onto his face as he recalled his last sight of her before slumber being against a bark across from him the night before. He poked the young girl with the toe of his boot in curiosity.

“Rise and shine.” Slough unwittingly parroted what Slick had said to him prior.

Unlike how he had reacted when she had tried to rouse him from sleep, the lancer responded by immediately gripping her spear and lowering it into action. The sharpened head of the lance nearly grazed Slough as he stepped out of the arcing path of the polearm, stumbling over and nearly losing his footing. Slick’s eyes shot open, darting around her surroundings before settling on Slough himself. Realization hit, and she let out a heavy sigh as she lowered her lance even further and let the head touch the ground.

“Bad dream?” Slough remarked, not that surprised at Slick’s reaction but still cautious.

Slick grumbled something under her breath, tilting her head to-and-fro. “Yeah. About.”

Not wanting to get into an argument over this, Slough offered a hand to Slick, to which she readily accepted. Helped up, she did away with what residual stiffness remained in her joints through a few small stretches and looked at the lumberjack quizzically.

“Got some good rest?”

“Better than what you got, I suppose.” Slough chuckled, though Slick didn’t laugh with him.

“Wanna walk while we talk? There’s nothing left for us here.” Slick spoke, to the point.

“Sure.” the lumberjack shrugged lightly, a bit off-put by his friend’s rather straight demeanor, “But where?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Then… I think we should stay here for the moment. So we don’t lose our bearings, and get lost on the way to wherever we’d be headed to.”

“Good idea.” Slick gave Slough an odd smile, one clearly forced yet also sincere. Her tone came off as… Fabricated, a contradiction to how she usually acted, as far as the latter of the two could tell, “Any ideas?”

Slough put a thumb to his chin in reflection, clicking his teeth as a few thoughts both came to mind and passed through without much consideration. “Nothing good.”

“Anything works.”  

Slough let out a resigned huff. “Well, if our words over the last few days are any indicator, this would be my last option… But our best bet is the main camp. Any more nights out here and we’ll be dead of dehydration and hunger, or by the hands of whoever we fruitlessly rob.”

“Smart as an egg.” Slick commented, supportive in that strange, unnerving sense.

“What.”

“Well, egghead would be too on the nose, and mean.” Slick chuckled. In an instant she was back to who Slough was used to, causing an exasperated grunt to signal from the lumberjack’s lungs.

“It’s just two-and-two."  

“Four-and-zero, three-and-one- Don’t matter, back home we go!” Slick enthusiastically announced while shamelessly gutting Slough’s saying. She was about to leave, when her friend’s next words forced herself to tense up.

“Home’s in Adversity.” Slough sighed, walking forward, “But we wouldn’t be welcome if they knew what crowd we’re in, and I’m not risking that.”

“Yeah… Good call.” Slick remarked softly, following Slough as he took the lead. Letting her steps mirror her friend’s, she mulled over what he said about their hometown. They hit her hard. Too hard. A slight cringe was on her face while she thought about the town, and while she avoided saying anything aloud about it, she truly wanted to avoid even thinking about it in the first place.

So she set her sights on what was in front of her- Or more fittingly, who was in front of her. She continued to follow Slough through the forest and its various natural paths as he near-expertly guided the two of them forward. Slick could at least trust she wouldn’t lose one of her closest friends.

 

---

 

“Are we lost?” Slick asked, glancing above and around like a child lost in a market. It had been a good few minutes, and her nerves about Slough’s mentioning of Adversity had died off in exchange for a skepticism that the lumberjack wasn’t that capable in his backtracking to camp as he seemed.  

“No. Just far off from any notable landmarks. But I can tell you that we’re still effectively headed towards where we need to be.” Slough replied. He held his axe in one hand as he lightly ran it across whatever trees he passed, marking the space they occupied as where he and Slick had been before.

“And you know this by..?”

“The fact that after about ten meters, the exits of the camp blend into all the green around it. So anyone who isn’t part of our crew will be none-the-wiser if they somehow stumble close to those grounds.” Slough explained, “And of course, that also means those of us who don’t have the best memory will be stumbling around like a drunkard in a dark room trying to get back after a day of… Whatever they’re up to.”

“Good thing we’ve got you.” Slick said, a hint of sarcasm coming off her tone.

“Very. You’d have gone missing if I wasn’t always with you to lead us back to camp.” Slough retorted, chuckling to himself.

Not expecting her friend to snap back for once, Slick hastily replied. “Fortune favors the bold, and the trail of breadcrumbs we’d leave working so close to home would be more like loaves.“

“You’re correct, but not only would that mean you’d be going back to bed every outing, you’d get a snack to boot.” Slough continued.

About to keep adding fuel to this nonsensical back-and-forth bickering, Slick gave a wily smile as she prepared to speak. Whatever was about to exit her mouth was silenced as what she and Slough swore was a cry lightly echoed through the forest. A few birds flew overhead and away, confirming their suspicions that something had sounded out elsewhere. Axe and spear at the ready, the two bandits continued moving, detouring from heading back to camp to investigate.

“What was that?” Slick mumbled, crouched low as she split apart some bushes.

“Didn’t sound like an animal. None I know of, at least.” Slough replied.

As the two continued to move, they began to make out more and more of these sounds. They slowly grew clearer and clearer the closer they made their approach.

“It’s… Speech. A talk?” Slick raised a brow, glancing at Slough.

“Assault. A robbery. I don’t think a regular discussion would cause someone to shriek out like that.”

“That would mean-”

“We’re closer to ‘home’ than I thought.” Slough sighed, continuing to walk forward. Eventually, he managed to find his way onto a dirt road splitting through this section of the forest, his and Slick’s boots marching towards the voices in the distance.

Off in the horizon appeared a few faint specks of color among the green and other parts of the environment’s natural palette. The largest of them remained immobile, while a few off to the side were moving. There was no doubt that those were people, about three or four looming over one or two on the ground. The two bandits were able to make out soon enough that it was a classic road-side robbery. The large immobile speck being a carriage and wagon of sorts, and the people on the ground its occupants.

The two would then be able to properly hear out the exchange as they drew near, opting to keep silent.

“Bloody snobs don’t got nothin’ good in the back. Just a bunch of boxes!” one of the male brigands spoke, rummaging through a cart attached to the carriage.

“You dolt. It’s ‘cause the things are locked shut. It’s what’s in the boxes we want.” a woman with a dagger barked, twirling the small knife, “Hunter, Vick, got our friends here to spill yet?”

“Got ‘em sweatin’. Vick, make ourselves clear again.” a young man with a bow - ‘Hunter’ - remarked, an arrow racked in his string waiting to be let loose. It was trained in the general direction of a couple on the ground, two folk wearing garb which could be considered higher-class compared to what the bandits were wearing.

“Just give us the keys and you can run-off back to wherever you two came from.” another man with a greatsword, Vick, stood over the brigands’ victims. His blade was pointed to the ground as he rested his hands on its pommel.

“Please- You need to understand, we can’t just give you all of our cargo!” the man on the ground pleaded, making a few rapid gestures with his hands.

“-We came from Aurstead! We’ll never make it back on foot without supplies- You already killed our horses!” the woman explained, but flinched with a yelp as she noticed Hunter’s bow aimed directly at her.

“And I’ll add you two to the count if whatever comes out of either of your mouths doesn't bring me and my pals a step closer to some loot.” Hunter retorted.

“We’ll take what we want and make sure you’ve got… A day or two’s rations. Pretty generous, I’d say.” the female bandit said.

The two accosted travelers remained silent while they remained at the mercy of the highwaymen. Exchanging glances, the man nodded as he cleared his throat to speak but found nothing leaving his throat. He was about to brace himself for an arrow courtesy of Hunter, but found himself slightly relaxing as their collective attentions turned to the two figures approaching from the west.

“Oi! Those’re the blokes Spare’s comfy with!” the rummaging bandit called out, pointing a crude cudgel at Slick and Slough.

“ Good to know they at least recognize us .” Slick thought, still tense, but slightly less so at being in relatively familiar company now, “So, fellas, what’re ya’ up to?”

“Business as per usual. You two better not be here to leech.” the female bandit plainly replied.

“I’ll be frank right now Carla, that’s all anyone who lumps themselves in with Spare’s good for.” Hunter spoke, easing his bowstring back into rest, “That boy can barely handle his own sword, I don’t think his friends would fare much better- Because if they could, they’d know when to cut their losses.”

“Don’t act so high-and-mighty, mister bow-prodigy.” Carla chastised, “Besides, Norden? That was his name? Not in the picture.”

“It’s Norman.” Slough corrected, unamused.

“Eh, he ain’t here. He won’t mind.” Carla mused, “So, you here to help or what?”

“We were on our way back to camp from a job elsewhere, so-” Slough began to explain, but Slick interjected.

“We’re up for it as long as we get our fair share of the spoils.”

“Get the keys from those two folk and we’ll even let you two have first dibs on anything in those crates.” Carla gave a challenging smirk.

“That ain’t fair! We got ‘em first!” the cudgel-waving bandit yelled, jumping down from the cart.

“We got the crates, not their contents. And to get those, we need keys, which our friends here evidently don’t want to give up no matter our offers.” Carla explained, though it was clear the other bandit was having none of it.

“Grah! Just let me do ‘em in and be done with it already!”

“Gravel’s wrath would be upon us if we didn’t carry their bodies back to camp after, and I don’t think anyone here has enough strength to carry back two cadavers at once.” Vick said, “Though, the lumberjack might.”

“It’s Slough.” the man in question corrected, again.

“Oh! Hey! Spare’s friends can carry the bodies back for us. Simple! Then we’d all be free to take all we want!” the cudgel bandit exclaimed, as if he had a stroke of genius.

“What’s his name?” Slick inquired.

“Rummy.” Carla whispered.

“You’re an idiot, Rummy.”

Either not registering that as an insult or brushing it off, Rummy shrugged, “You’re just mad I came up with a genius plan to ensure the success of this robbery, now then-” the man paused as he readied his cudgel while approaching the two innocents.

“Wait-!” Slick found herself speaking suddenly. She didn’t know why, or how, but she felt inclined to stop Rummy before he got the blood of two complete strangers on his hands.

“What? You got a better plan?” Rummy put on a face of superiority, which if anything, caused Hunter to silently chuckle behind him.

“If we get the keys from those two… Nobles? Travelers?- Whatever, without killing them, then that’s six pairs of hands to take their stuff with. You get what I mean?”

“Six… Hands…? Ah! More stuff, you’re a genius!.. But that’s the thing, we can’t get the keys from them alive! They won’t give them to us!”

“Have you tried patting them down for it? Running their pockets…?” Slough asked after a pause, perplexed if anything else by Rummy’s behavior.

“Neither of them have the keys on them, we checked. But we know they have them somewhere either in or on the wagon… That’s why we’ve refrained from killing them, Rummy .” Carla leered towards the cudgel-wielding bandit, who was now just plain disappointed.

“ This won’t end well .” Slough thought, stepping off to the side as the exchange continued, Slick getting herself more involved in this while he wanted anything but for himself.

After whispering something to Carla, Slick walked towards the two travelers on the ground. She sat down, keeping a one-handed grip on her spear while keeping her other hand free. With a tiny wave, she tried her best to put on an outwardly friendly demeanor.

“Hello there.” she awkwardly greeted.

The two travelers glanced at each other, before they replied in kind with silent waves of their hands. While Slick’s attitude was a welcome change from how they were being treated prior, their eyes couldn’t keep focus on the girl in front of them when the four of her apparent colleagues were looming behind.

“I don’t think either of you thought you’d be here today, did you?”

The two shook their heads. The woman spoke.

“Please- We can give you some of our things but we need some supplies to finish our trip to Adversity or get back to Aurstead.”

“Don’t worry-” Slick tried to reassure her, glancing behind her, “We’ll make sure you’ll be fine and healthy coming out of this. Hey- What’re your names? I’m Slick, by the way.”

“Pela.” the woman replied.

“Merl.” the man said, then whispered. His lip movements visible to everyone else, but his words audible only to those near him, “No tricks? You won’t stab us in the back?”

Slick paused as she considered that. It would be a hefty promise, one that could break at the tip of a hat should the other bandits get any ideas. She took a silent breath, nodding. “You have my word.”

For the first time since they’d ended up here, the two travelers seemed to properly relax, Merl slowly standing up. Hunter pulled back on his bowstring in response and began leading a shot, but eventually relented once he saw the man slowly approach the carriage.

“They’ll unlock their crates and take what they need first. Whatever’s left is up for grabs.” Slick said, rising from the ground.

“Well, that was surprisingly quick.” Carla remarked.

“We’re more used to physically resistant folk. Though I suppose the presence of six aggressors would place a greater mental strain than just four.” Vick added, “Not bad.”

After a few minutes, Merl emerged from the carriage with a steel ring held in one hand containing a variety of keys. They clinked and clattered audibly in the silence following Slick’s negotiations. The lancer watched as he began to make his way past Carla, Vick and Rummy and towards the wagon. Pela soon got the courage to join him, and it seemed that they would be allowed to collect what they needed before heading off.

But then she noticed Hunter, an arrow still knocked in his bow. She felt time slow to a crawl as he took aim, the growl of his bowstring being intensified in her ears the further it was pulled back. Slough seemed to notice this as well, taking a few precautionary steps forward. All the while, the other bandits that were here first seemed to pay no mind, their attention turned to the two travelers as they had their backs turned on them. As they prepared to take their leave.

They were never meant to get out of here alive in the first place, regardless.

Gripping her spear, Slick took advantage of the fact she’d inadvertently placed herself behind the other bandits when she negotiated earlier. Lowering the polearm, she lunged forward and pierced Vick through his stomach before quickly retracting the lance.

The brigand dropped down with a groan, clutching his wound while trying to use his greatsword as a support but to no avail. The other bandits were stunned briefly for a moment but reacquired their bearings as they readied their own weapons. Hunter’s bow was now directed towards Slick while Rummy’s cudgel and Carla’s dagger moved in to overwhelm her in close quarters. She wildly thrust and swung her lance, putting off her close-range assailants briefly but giving the archer a wide opportunity to fire. An arrow flew by, grazing her cheek, before embedding itself in a nearby tree with a thump .

Slick’s body tensed, adrenaline pumping as droplets of blood spat out of the light wound on her face. This wasn’t like her and Slough’s attempted ambush of that strange mage, who backed off once they’d incapacitated one of them. This wasn’t the slaughter of defenseless innocents like how this would’ve gone if she and Slough hadn’t come here or intervened. This was a real fight. This was life or death.

And she would survive. She, Slough, and for reasons she didn’t know how to explain, Pela and Merl.

A well-timed toss of a rock to the back of Rummy’s head was Slough’s opening to this endeavor. Clamping a hand hard around his axe, he rushed forward like a stampeding bull and straight into the cudgel-wielding bandit. The force of their bodies colliding sent the unwitting Rummy off to the side, colliding with Carla on his way.

“The archer!” Slough called out, flicking another stone at Hunter. 

The rock flew true and impacted Hunter in his arm, his knocked arrow being prematurely fired and only knowing the dirt. Reorienting herself, Slick dashed forward as she shifted her hold on her spear in one hand, tossing it like an impromptu javelin once she saw that Hunter was trying to reach for another arrow. Further interrupted and being cornered, the archer skidded back and behind the carriage to buy himself some kind of distance.

Crouched behind the opposite side of the carriage, Slick gathered a pile of dirt and dust in one of her hands as she shot out. She made low turns around the front of the carriage as she got on Hunter’s side, throwing the earthly matter up and right into the archer’s face. Carrying her momentum, she leaped and drove the disoriented Hunter to the ground, straddling him as she began delivering a series of debilitating punches to the young man’s face.

Hearing Slough struggling on the opposite side of the carriage, Slick plucked an arrow from Hunter’s quiver and used it as an impromptu shank to put him out of the fight. Getting up and running back around, she picked up her lance and moved in to flank a recovered Rummy and Carla, who were simultaneously pushing Slough.

But as she thrust her spear forward, aiming for Carla’s backside, the bandit turned and sidestepped the maneuver, before gripping onto the outstretched end of the lance’s shaft. Using it as a guiding railing, Carla twirled her dagger before going for a backhanded wide slash across Slick’s chest while closing the distance. Slick let go of her weapon mid-slash and backed off, the remaining effect of the attack shallow, but what came before had still pierced through her leather chestplate.

“I didn’t figure any of us would have an aversion to spilling some innocent blood, given how we’re all crooks here.” Carla taunted, tossing away Slick’s lance, “The more you know.”

“They were only going to take maybe not even a fraction of what we would’ve taken back to camp! You- You never had to do this!” Slick tried to retort.

“There’s more than just money and valuables to be gained from robberies. Some of us know that real well.” Carla smirked, lunging for a jab.

With her muscles instinctively tensing, Slick swatted away the knife while stepping back with deliberate footing. Her lack of a weapon was costing her immensely as she hustled and stepped away, fully on the defensive.

Meanwhile, Slough was engaged in a burly brawl as Rummy pressed on with reckless strength behind the swings of his cudgel. The large stick combined with the bandit’s brutish tactics prevented Slough from making any kind of counterattack, lest he risk a fatal end by blunt force. Rummy’s fighting style reminded Slough of how he approached that strange mage, with only raw strength and little else supporting his strikes. Slough gauged that it wouldn’t take a lot to break up his opponent’s savage rhythm, and unlike the dodgy violet wanderer, any openings for attack would be much more forgiving.  

Slough sidestepped, and slowly began leading Rummy into closer quarters in the forms of the trees and forest lining the road. The dense bandit didn’t pay even the slightest bit of attention towards where he was headed with each swing and strike, only focusing on killing the man in front of him. Soon, he found himself stumbling, slowing down as he had to account for the environment around him while he recovered to strike again, cursing when his cudgel impacted only the bark of a tree with a resounding thwack! or thump!

On one lunge forward, Rummy left himself particularly vulnerable after practically slamming himself into a tree. Cudgel-arm outstretched, Slough rushed forward and brought the full force of his axe down on it. His dull foe let out a roar of rage as he lost proper function of that arm, dropping the club. Rather than trying to retreat, Rummy pushed on as he threw a flimsy punch with his good arm, slinging it across his body.

Slough flinched back as the punch connected square in his face, taking a step back. Instead of pushing this counter further and making more distance between himself and Slough, Rummy tried to reach for his cudgel on the ground. Taking the opportunity which presented itself, Slough reeled back one of his legs and sent a rough kick straight into Rummy’s jaw, the toe of his boot rudely interrupting the brute. Rummy was sent to the ground on his back, practically motionless.

“ Slick! ” the name of his friend reverberated through Slough’s skull once he’d dealt with his foe. Running back to the road, he saw Slick on the ropes as she tried to grapple with Carla, the latter’s knifeplay quickly growing too much to bear for the disarmed lancer.

Slough moved in to assist, his boots thudding heavily on the dirt below his feet. The remaining bandit from the party that tried to rob the travelers swiveled around, converting a slash at Slick into a jab at Slough. The dagger nearly struck true as Slough stopped and threw himself off to the side. He glanced at Slick over Carla’s shoulder, his friend moving to capitalize on the opening.

Without hesitation, Slick stomped down on the back of Carla’s left knee, above her calf. The force-induced buckling suddenly sent the woman to a knee, and Slick followed up by wrapping her arms and hands on opposite sides of Carla’s head.

The woman cursed as she flailed her dagger-hand, trying to fight back against the force Slick was trying to apply. She eventually landed a deep gash in Slick’s right forearm, causing the hold to break briefly and giving her the means to break out. Narrowly avoiding a neck-snapping, she slashed Slick across her left leg while forcing her to the ground. Her knife arm was raised high, ready to return the favor-

When Slough barreled forward and swung his axe low to his left, catching the large blade of the weapon just under Carla’s ribs. She yelped and dropped the knife, the handle hitting Slick on her left cheek as it fell. She was soon thrown off Slick by the now visibly stressed lumberjack, Slough prying his weapon out of where it was lodged without any due respect for the owner of the newly-created cavity.

“Damn..! Thanks for the save-” Slick panted, sitting up while inspecting her wounds, “Guess I can’t hound you for a favor after getting you out of the way of that purple mage…”

Exasperated and hyperventilating in equal measures as his lancer companion, Slough grumbled. “We just killed four of our friends.”

“They weren’t our friends- They were assholes.” Slick stood up, wincing from the pain coming from her cuts, “Ones that tried to off the cooperative folks they were robbing.”

“Where’d they go?” Slough responded after a pause, looking around.

“Over here!” a male voice, Merl, called from the wagon. He and Pela emerged, having hid among the various crates and cargo their carriage was drawing. They dismounted, and cautiously walked over to their two bandit “saviors”.

“Ah… You two alright?” Slick inquired, moving to pick up her lance.

A bit shaken by what had just happened, Pela moved over to Slick’s side, helping her stand steady. “You should be concerned about yourself! You’re nearly bleeding all over!”

“They’re all shallow, might scar- Nothing I can’t…” Slick grunted, feeling under her leather chestpiece. Nothing marred her fingers, so her armor had done its job well. But everything else was proving challenging to bear with.

“Merl, get a vulnerary and some bandages in the back- And a stitch kit, too!” Pela said. After a moment, Merl returned with some medical supplies.

“What do you think- Hey! Stop-” Slick spoke as she was slowly led into a seated position against the carriage. 

Slick involuntarily twitched and spasmed as the two travelers attempted to treat her wounds. The liquid contents of the leather vulnerary were lightly applied and dripped on smaller injuries, while larger ones were stitched shut and wrapped up in layers of bandages. She felt strange just accepting the treatment, letting Pela and Merl use some of their most important resources on her. While in a way it could be considered payment for saving their lives, she expected that if she or Slough ended up pressing them to do so directly, they’d get maybe some of the things that the two were transporting in the wagon. Not something like this, not the tending of “marks of battle” or “scars of pride” that bandits tended to call these kinds of injuries.

She remained speechless as the two travelers eventually finished their work, moving to store again what remained of the items they’d expended. While her wounds still stung, Slick did feel a degree better as she stood herself up. Not having blood trickle all around or the sore-sight of a cut was certainly a welcome change. Slough walked over, patting her on the back.

“Sure they didn’t miss anything?” the lumberjack asked, glancing his friend over in concern, “I don’t want you dropping dead from any gloss-overs.”

“Still hanging in there- Just a bit sore now, s’all.” Slick replied, lightly jabbing Slough in the stomach with her good arm, “Sorry we gotta worry about me being banged-up an’ all now, though.”

“You got hurt doing the right thing.” Slough glanced around at the fallen forms of the other bandits, Carla in particular still trying to cling onto consciousness with light gurgles of blood leaving her mouth.

Slick was quiet as her eyes joined Slough’s in inspecting the damage they had caused. She knelt down next to Carla, and felt the woman’s eyes weakly glance to the side, up at her. It was clear her life was slowly coming to an end, rapid breaths interspersed with occasional whimpers betraying what she was truly feeling in that moment. If only out of pity, Slick moved to collect Carla’s dagger, and returned with the intent to relieve her of her pain.

But all she could do was keep the blade somewhat steady above Carla’s windpipe. The threat of battle was no longer a motivator for her actions, and as its associated thrill subsided, her confidence waned. She tried to lower the knife down, but always felt herself pull it to the side and away from its target. Eventually, Slick gave up, and just laid it next to Carla’s barely twitching hands.

The little whimpers the dying woman gave off stopped momentarily, only her labored breathing remained. Slick sighed as they maintained eye contact, the lancer finding herself only able to mumble a light “Sorry”. At that, she swore the clean end of Carla’s lips tilt slightly into a smile, before her breathing too did cease entirely along with the rest of her body movements.

“If it weren’t for you two, we’d be in their place-” Merl began to speak, scratching his head at the sight of the dead as he was cut off by Pela.

“What he means is thank you. We’re in your debt.” Pela offered a relieved smile at the non-malicious bandits.

Slough raised a brow, and quickly glancing at Slick, took a gamble with his words. “I don’t mean to be rude- But me and my friend here have been… Wandering, for quite a while. We haven’t got much aside from our weapons, so we’d appreciate it if you could give us some food and water if you’re able to.”

“Ah- Not a problem, friends! We’ve got a diverse selection to choose from!” Pela spoke while gesturing for Merl to retrieve things from their wagon. 

The man’s eyes widened briefly before sighing in annoyance. The reason wasn’t apparent now, but as he began to continuously unload crates, both it and Pela’s words were much clearer. Slick and Slough approached the practical mountain of barrels and boxes, Merl slowly unlocking each of them. The wagon was now decently lightened from his effort, and now it was up to the two bandits’ rapidly loosening self-control to procure some supplies as they eyed the things in front of them.

In front of Slick and Slough was a practical banquet of dried meats and preserved pastries, and even a few waterskins containing strange teas and other beverages. These were the kinds of things that they’d almost never had the luxury of having, not even back in Adversity as kids. The kinds that would break the bank for their whole families, and now they were right here - laid out before them for the taking. Within reason, but the two would find it difficult to draw the line. It wouldn’t help with Pela’s next words.

“Feel free to have a few small samples. Just tell us what you want and we’ll pack you some good portions.”

Slick immediately drove her hands towards what appeared to be a few strips of some jerky-like meat. Slough was about to reprimand her but as she took a bite, he couldn’t stop his curiosity. Nudging her, Slick handed over the remaining third of the strip and he tried it out. His attitude now practically mirrored his friend's after that, the two sharing individual instances of practically everything on offer.

“What’s in this thing? It’s weird- A bit sticky, gooey, but really sweet!” Slick spoke while biting into a tart, the thing “bleeding” with a somewhat firm red sauce.

“Oh- It’s jam. Made from fruit and sweeteners. That in particular is made from strawberries.” Merl answered.

“Sweeteners? Like raw sugar and the like? That’s nearly impossible to come by out here without an exuberantly high price attached to it or its sources.” Slough commented, washing down a more basic loaf of bread with some water.

“It’s quite common where we’ve come from-” Merl began to speak.

“But still quite pricey. Though you can be sure it’s been used well, since I baked nearly all of this myself!” Pela proudly stated, the stress and shock of the situation she and her partner had been through being replaced by pride at a few happy eaters.

“-And yeah, these are the fruits of a good few weeks of labor. The reason we were out here in the first place was because we wanted to do some business.” Merl continued.

“Merchants?” Slough raised a brow, “What are you doing this far from… Aurstead, was it? Without any kind of escort?”

“Well…” Merl turned to Pela, a leer on his face.

“Look! Time is money- and- My little brother who’s with the Redcliff Knights said he’d be dispatched on the road we were traveling on but we didn’t see him when we set off so-” Pela tried to defend herself, but soon devolved into rambling.

“In short, we had a lapse of judgment in such matters. One that nearly killed us if it weren’t for you two.” Merl summarized, “Thank you, again.”

“So, have you nice fellas decided on what you’d like for the road?” Pela spoke, wiping her brow of some sweat.

“Now, this might be a bit over-the-top but-” Slick cleared her throat to speak, as well as force down some stuck pastry.

“A little bit of everything would be nice.” Slough finished.

Pela simply nodded, and so did Merl. The man left and retrieved a few empty boxes, before collecting a few pieces of food from each of the containers he had unloaded from the wagon earlier. The total amount of varied meat and pastries managed to fill up a box each for the two well-doing brigands, who both had happy looks on their faces as they received more of what they never thought they could have.

“I do have a question, though.” Merl coughed, “Just what exactly are you two? You and those bandits- Before you all started fighting seemed awfully acquainted. And Slick was the one who did the negotiating for them. So I don’t suppose you’re proper adventurers.”

Slough swallowed a quickly-formed lump in his throat, exhaling as he reluctantly spoke. He opted to be honest. “We’re bandits as well.”

“F-Far less successful ones, though!” Slick nervously chuckled, “So… Does this mean you don’t want us to keep the food?”

Merl thought in silence, but Pela spoke before him. “As far as I’m concerned, they’ve turned a new leaf.”

“While we appreciate you saving our lives, I’m not fully trusting that you two will be as kind to anyone else who passes by on these roads.” Merl sighed, “Why did you even approach us in the first place?”

“We were on our way back to our camp when we heard someone scream like a dying farm animal- But definitely wasn’t one.” Slick spoke, “Curiosity, I guess.”

“Oh.” Merl slightly relaxed, his apprehensions slightly abated, “And I suppose you were on your way because-”

“We failed at being criminals for the past week. You just gave us our first proper meal in days.” Slough said.

Merl breathed sharply, now a bit more embarrassed than anything else for his reasonable skepticism. “Well, if it isn’t too much- I’d like my trust reinforced. Would you two be willing to stay here until we can get some help from any other travelers? Our horses are… No longer with us."

“Huh- Yeah! That’d be great.” Pela agreed, remembering something, “My little brother and his knight friends could pass by and we could get them to draw our stuff! You two’ll be able to see the Redcliff Knights up close!"

Slough glared over at the two dead horses which were leading the carriage and wagon, arrows poking out of them. “Oh, sure. We were actually also looking for ways to stay away from our camp for longer over these last few days, so that’s perfect.”

Merl nodded, while Pela spoke up in shock. “Eh-!? So you’re bandits who don’t even have a roof or- cave under your heads? Where did you sleep during the night? In the trees or something?!”

Slick and Slough exchanged side-eye glances, alternating between each other and Pela as they kept quiet. With a shrug and light nod respectively, Slick spoke. “Yeah, about right.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stick along further once we’re able to continue our trip to Adversity. That is, if you won’t immediately be recognized.” Merl spoke, sounding a bit sorry for the two, “If that’s a problem, we can say you two are just some novice adventurers giving us some temporary security. Sounds good?”

Slick and Slough nodded, not saying anything further about that particular topic. Merl deduced he’d more than likely need to go with the latter plan.

With that, they all gathered around the carriage in silence. It lasted for only a little while until Pela began some more small-talk, and they soon returned to a varied conversation while waiting for anything or anyone to pass by and help.

 

---

 

The clacking of hooves on a dirt road sounded as a pair of knights dressed in gilded plate galloped forth. Their beasts were steadfast in their travels as they sped along, answering the beckoning of their riders by pushing themselves to their limits. The two individuals who rode on these horses bore the markings and emblems of the Knights of Redcliff - A crimson red contrast to their golden armor. Furthermore, the left pauldron of the leadmost knight possessed a thin red stripe, while the right pauldron of the trailing soldier was instead grey with blue noting him.

“Keep up the pace Abel. We’re already half an hour late to our mission in Adversity.” the lead knight spoke, his voice stern as it reverberated through his angular helmet.

“Slow down Cain!” the trailing knight replied with the visor of his own helmet raised while he rode, revealing the face of a young man, “This’ll be a week long process, we don’t need to rush! It’s just training the militia down there, nothing too big!”

“Such talk decays discipline. Have you already forgotten your responsibilities as a knight?” Cain spoke, “You’ll never be a proper hero of the land if you can’t even take your usage of time seriously.”

“Did you see me during morning practice? Two hours of sparring with the sword, spear, axe and anything else on the racks! Both with dummies and the others!” Abel countered.

“During when we both knew we had to set out for an important assignment on the same day.” Cain grumbled, “And you better practice how to still your tongue. You’re quite lucky we’re all considered to be of the same rank- I know plenty of our superiors who’re quite used to cutting out the tongues of louts.”

“...”

“Figuratively, of course. Not even Queen Soleil’s own guard are that mute.” Cain explained.

“On that topic- Sometimes I feel like the Queen doesn’t need her own guard,” Abel began to speak, directing the conversation away from his work ethic, “Have you seen her man? She’s an armored giant half the time!”

“She’s a ruler who knows how to handle herself, but there’s always safety in numbers.” Cain simply said, not wanting to entertain his younger companion’s gossip, “Now focus on the road ahead.”

“But there isn’t-”

“We can stop to deal with any bandits who think of us as targets for a robbery. That’s part of why we’re even headed to Adversity in the first place.”

“... Decent enough.”

“If there’s anything about you that I can find even the slightest bit of praise for, it’s that you can actually take your fighting skill seriously.” Cain remarked after a pause.

“Is that meant to be a backhanded compliment?” Abel raised a brow, snapping the reins of his horse.

“Nevermind.”

The two knights continued to ride their horses in silence, the gallops of their hooves the only thing in the air. As they neared Adversity, they found themselves speeding through its outlying forest. Birds and other critters were sent scattering at their approach, but the pair slowed their horses upon spotting something in the distance: A carriage and wagon on the side of the road, a few individuals standing - as well as being strewn - around it.

“H-Hey… What happened over there?” Abel muttered.

“A robbery, perhaps. Seems like a merchant caravan.” Cain surmised, but raised a brow behind his visor as he spotted someone near the carriage notice and wave at him and Abel.

“Wait… Oh, oh no!” Abel spoke, snapping the reins on his horse and speeding towards the scene ahead of them.

Cain sighed and withheld a few choice words, before chasing after his less restrained partner. “Still your blade! Don’t be reckless now!”

Abel practically charged forward with the intent of stampeding over one of the more clearly-armed individuals near the cart. But he hustled to get his beast to slow once a woman stepped to the side and waved at him cheerfully. Nearly toppling over, his horse reared itself on its hind legs while giving off an annoyed neigh as it came to a halt. The knight soon disembarked, running over on foot.

“In the name of the Kingdom of Redcliff, I, Sir Abel-” Abel tried to begin his obligatory spiel as a knight trying to stop crime, like how he’d always imagined himself doing. His dream fulfillment was shattered as the cheery woman began sprinting at him, his eyes widening with a regretful recognition.

“Abel!”

“Oh no no no! Wait- Pela, sto-” the knight could not get the last word out of his mouth as his life was abruptly squeezed out of him, finding himself in a tight embrace.

“He’s your little brother?” one of the people standing by the cart, a man with a somewhat burly build asked. An axe hung from his waist - a lumberjack, Abel might assume.

“Yeah! Uh- Abel, meet Slough.” the woman, Pela, spoke before pointing at another young lady with a lance, “And she’s Slick.”

“Who are these people, and…” Abel surveyed the area, noting the dead horses which used to draw the caravan, as well as the bodies of several fallen bandits, “What happened?”

“Oh, we were robbed while heading to Adversity. However, these two adventurers Pela just spoke of intervened… Right as we may as well have been executed .” the other man, Merl, explained while giving Pela a bad eye.

“Hey! Well, we’re alive so that’s what matters!” the woman tried to defend herself, before glancing at Abel, “Actually, where were you? You and your mentor were supposed to protect your big sister!”

“My horse wasn’t feeling well!” Abel began to speak, already annoyed by his sister’s antics. His horse in question made a neigh more akin to a scoff once he mentioned its condition, “And Cain is not my mentor!”

“If I was, today would’ve been a lot better.” the knight in question rode up, dismounting his own, much more respectful steed, “My apologies madam. Your brother had not informed me of our responsibility to escort you to Adversity.”

“...Because you would’ve chewed me out for it…” Abel mumbled, shifting slightly in his sister’s vice-grip.

“It would’ve been convenient to carry out, since we were headed towards the town in the first place. Even with an interruption in handling these bandits, we would still not nearly be as late as we are now.” Cain spoke, “On that note, my respect to these two adventurers for succeeding in where we knights have faltered.”

The knight put a fist to his heart and pounded once on the armored plate on his chest, lowering his arm.

“Sister, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you and Merl would set out without waiting for me or Cain.” Abel hugged his sibling closer, the thought he could’ve lost her gnawing at him.

“Oh, I was being impatient.” Pela spoke with actual seriousness in her voice now, “I took a big risk trying to get to Adversity early in the day to set up shop, and it didn’t pay off. I should be the one sorry.”

“Regardless, it’s now our responsibility to ensure you and your partner’s safe passage along this road.” Cain stated.

“Would it be possible if your horses could draw our caravan? While the adventurers saved our lives, our steeds had long-since been… Dispatched.” Merl inquired.

“Perfectly so.” Cain glared at Abel. The younger knight reluctantly forced himself out of his sister’s grip and moved to guide his and Cain’s horses over.

Meanwhile, the disciplined knight walked over to the two apparent adventurers.

“Again, I thank you two for your efforts in protecting the lives of these two innocents. I’m sure you weren’t actively hunting around for trouble, were you?” Cain spoke, the last part of his speech vaguely indicating a joke.

Slick gulped, and Slough’s gaze turned skeptical as he watched from the side. “No sir.” she replied.

Catching on her reaction, Cain followed up. “So you two are vigilantes as well I presume? Treading where Adversity’s militia can’t afford to patrol? Truly admirable, if I may say, given it’s just you two with your level of gear.”

“You could say that.” Slough said.

“Though, in regards to your equipment… Slick, was it? Your spear. I recognize it. The members of Adversity’s militia use ones of the same make.” Cain said.

“Oh- Well, that’s because,” the lancer’s speech lapsed, trying to think of a proper excuse, “I used to be part of them! I was a guardswoman, but I hung up my armor and pursued the freedom of adventuring instead.”

“Then why didn’t you hand in your lance too?” Cain’s face was unreadable due to his visor, but it was clear he was now suspicious.

“I- I uh… It’s actually surplus.”

“Hard to believe, given how isolated a village Adversity is. It needs every blade and man or woman it can get in its forces.”

“My… sister, who is also in the guard, hooked the quartermaster with a deal to buy some older equipment.” Slick hesitantly said, ”Clear out the racks so they could store new weapons, y’know?”

“... Hm, reasonable. Didn't know the town was actually in good standing equipment wise.” Cain remarked.

“Huh?”

“I’ve seen it happen in Aurstead and other Redcliff towns and cities. Old armory inventory is sold off to the public or other business, typically if said items are beyond repair or maintenance.” Cain nodded, “Which you seem to need to work on.”

Slick gave a nervous chuckle at the knight’s observation on the actual state of her weapon. “Uh… Yes, sir.”

“And what’s the name of your sister? Just curious.”

Slick visibly tensed as the knight asked, reluctant to respond. “I- She’s no longer with us.”

The response seemed to shock Cain, as the knight averted his gaze and dropped his question. “I’m sorry to hear that, madam.”

In equal measures, it surprised Slough, however, he wore a brief face of disapproving disbelief before returning to his prior expression. So as to not make the knight any more skeptical.  

“It’s just been a while and- I also do this to try and distract myself from… Things I don’t like to think about.” Slick continued, pressing further, “It’s why I’m all the way out here, really.”

“I understand. We all have our ways of coping. May her soul be at peace.” Cain said. He heard the neighing of both his and Abel’s horses, now properly drawing the caravan Pela and Merl operated.

“Ah, uh- Safe travels, Sir… Cain?” Slick spoke, a bit more confidence in her voice.

“You as well.” Cain nodded as he mounted his horse, him and Abel now leading the caravan along. Pela and Merl gave parting waves as they continued on the course to Adversity.

The two knights and their charges soon disappeared over the horizon, while the adventurers began to wade through the forest elsewhere.

 

---

 

“What the actual hell was that?” Slough scolded as he and Slick continued back towards the bandit camp, “So Sharpe’s dead now? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Look, I couldn’t think of anything else! Nothing that wouldn’t get that guy’s nose all up in our business!” Slick argued, “He probably thought I was some kind of thief or crook already just by what kind of spear I had!”

“You couldn’t say familial troubles, or anything lighter? I don’t think knights are responsible for making two sisters who don’t like each other make up.” 

“It didn’t come to me then!”

“If he ever meets her, we’re never stepping foot back home again…” Slough grumbled.

“By how he acted- This is the first time he’s met me! It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say it’ll be the first time he’ll meet Sharpe too- And that’s if their paths even cross!”

“And what if he has? What if he’s already exchanged a few words, learned that she has a sister who conveniently shares your name?” Slough exhaled, “Y’know, right after you told him you had a sister and she was dead ?! I don’t think ‘Slick’ and ‘Sharpe’ are common names.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” Slick lashed out, sounding like she was about to cry, “I try and I just- Fail!”

Slough kept silent as he and Slick continued to walk. He eventually tried to speak, but Slick said what she had to say first.

“Just go.”

“What?”

“Go back to Adversity if you want to so much. You’re a good guy. You were the smart kid growing up. You can think of something to explain why you’ve been away for so long, can’t you?” Slick said, visibly wiping away tears forming in her eyes, but never looking back.

“I’m not leaving you.” Slough plainly spoke.

“Why? You have nothing to lose by staying with me. I’m just a criminal- A bad one. A failure. My only success was taking this spear with me when I ran away. You can say you were contracted by some town over or something… What about me? What do I say?” Slick sniffled.

“Adversity is… It’s where home is.”

“Then go.”

“But it’s not where you, Norman or Hina are. It’s not where my friends are. And I value you all more than any… Than any stupid old roof over my head.” Slough spoke, any anger in his tone gone and replaced with tired honesty.

Slick was quiet while she mulled his words over and dried her eyes. Without warning, she stepped back and threw herself around her friend, giving him a hug that was nowhere as secretive as the one she gave him in the morning while he still slumbered.

The two seemed to silently resolve their quarrel in the moments that followed. Without another word, they continued towards camp, hands held.

 

---

 

Gravel silently prowled through the grounds of his camp, passing by his varied bunch of subordinates and cronies. As per usual, they put on instinctual airs of respect and reverence when around him, the most vile of men being subservient under the implicit threat of a superior. Usually at this time of day, he’d be away tending to his “ garden ”, but a lack of “ seeds ” combined with nerves rattling from Moritvant’s pressure had caused him to forgo his duties in that regard, if only for a day or so.

Not entirely content with wasting his time just being a foreboding presence, the bandit leader tried to strike small-talk and conversation with the others in camp. Though unless he specifically pressed a topic, those around just returned to a somewhat fearful silence. Eventually he spotted a pair of his group enter the camp, perhaps returning from a day’s hard “work”. Recognizing them, that could be corrected to a few days worth.

“Ah, Slick, Slough. I haven’t seen your faces around here in recent times.” Gravel gave a small wave as a gesture of greeting.

The two bandits snapped to attention. Slick was the one to speak first. “Ah, boss… We’ve just been busy, is all.”

“Very much clear.” Gravel pointed at the two boxes the pair held between them, “Spoils of war?”

“Indeed… Sir.” Slough nodded, opening his box and revealing its contents, “Would you like to try some?”

“Oh, foodstuffs. I haven’t even had breakfast today. Such hospitality is greatly appreciated.“ the bandit warlord leaned over, eyeing the mixture of sweet bread and dried meat with a single, red eye.

In a quick motion, Gravel seemed to pluck a strip of jerky from the box, lower his bandanna, stuff the food into his mouth, and recover his face. Chewing on it, he remarked, “High quality as well. Such nearly never comes through close-by roads as of recent, or at least, successful interceptions are what fail to occur.”

Neither of the two bandits remarked on their leader’s strange speed at the moment, instead the lancer continued as if there would be consequences without giving her fair share, “Would you like some more? There’s these… Jelly filled ones. They’re sweet.”

“... Jelly?” Gravel repeated, “Jam? Fruit?”

“I think that’s what the baker told- Uh- Yeah.” Slick nervously nodded, realizing her tongue had slipped.

“Baker? You two robbed a bakery- Or market for that matter?”

“Well, a baker and her partner who intended to set up shop in Adversity, on the road there.” Slough corrected.

“And I assume you interrogated them as to what these were prior to disposing of them?”

Deciding to not try and lie to preserve what little “status” she and her friend had, Slick shook her head as she sighed. “They explained… After we saved their lives.”

Gravel’s one discernible eye visibly widened as he took one of the presumably jam-filled tarts from Slick’s box. “Go on.”

“They were previously accosted by four of our… Less kind friends, and were about to be effectively executed when me and Slick stepped in.” Slough explained, shutting his box and crossing his arms, “There were four bodies and only two of us, so we couldn’t really afford to drag them back if-”

“No problem.” Gravel said, speaking through a mouthful of jam. The usually feared bandit leader acting so casually was quite… Interesting.

“Boss, we understand how you feel about the dead during our… ‘Business operations’, more so than any spoils. We’ll try to find the bodies tomorrow assuming wolves or something don’t-” Slick tried continuing, but was cut off by a hand gesture.

“It’s fine. You did what you had to and you won. So you’re better.” Gravel spoke, finishing the tart, “Though what did you do with the innocents thereafter?”

“We waited until some other folks came by and helped them out.” Slick glanced at Slough before placing her focus back on her boss, “Said we were just passing adventurers.”

“And who were these people?” Gravel pressed.

“... Knights of Redcliff.” Slough spoke after his friend seemed to pause for far too long.

“And to them, you were nothing more than ‘passing adventurers’, correct? Nothing regarding…” Gravel gestured to the whole of the camp with a wide arc of his arms, “This.”

“N-no, sir.” Slick stuttered.

Rather than continue prodding for the specifics of the event, Gravel shrugged, and nodded with a plain “okay”. He’d both brought up a security concern and dismissed it nonchalantly right after, which brought confusion to the two bandits he was talking to. As well, moments ago he just waved off some fratricide. Nevertheless, he followed up with a few more choice words that only added on to the befuddlement.

“If you ever run into the person who baked the jam tarts, ask her how much it would cost to commission a crate-load.” Gravel stated.

“...”

“...”

“Would you like another one, boss?” Slick held her box out again. Before answering, Gravel took another.

“Yes please thank you.” he muttered quickly through a mouthful of tart.

“We’ll see if we can get back in touch.” Slough spoke.

“See to it. Good day.” Gravel nodded, just walking off.

Shutting her box, Slick stood there dumbfounded at how the apparently feared leader of the bandits acted. Other bandits who stood around and watched the exchange occur were as well, but decided not to open their mouths. Maybe their leader always had a thing for sweats? Finer things in life? It’d make sense if at some point along the road one of his own robberies got him a taste of high society living. That’s at least what most of them thought.

Slough on the other hand was more concerned about the fact that the deaths of four of their own at the hands of himself and Slick was just… Brushed off. While the band of bandits was no traditional “family-first” type of venture, it was unnerving how their very leader looked them in the eyes and just so much as shrugged at the news. That at least meant from him there should be nothing to worry about, which would hopefully extend to everyone else as a result of their fear for him. But it begged the question as to why Gravel just didn’t care.

Was he just that detached from those who gathered under his name? Did he even care for folks who pillaged, robbed, killed and razed terror on innocent folk for him? Or was it more specific- Only those like that were who he’d turn a blind eye to when karma caught up to them? Too many possibilities and small variations of them that not one could be pinpointed at the moment.  

And neither Slick nor Slough could tell if, as a whole, that was a good or bad thing going forward.

Chapter 7: Divulgence

Another day emerged over the land within the region of Kypediad, and that included the town of Adversity. As its inhabitants stirred and rose, Violet did so as well. The purple mage extracted themselves from the bed where they laid, quickly kicking off any grogginess with a few stretches. Their lengthy, drawn-out morning several days ago was contrasted by a nearly go-getter attitude. 

Running out of the inn, they took a heavy breath of clean air flowing through yet somehow clearer skies compared to the past. They felt another sense of ease at the sight, but didn’t dilly-dally confuse themselves over it. 

“Up and at’em.” Brander was heard speaking from the side, leaning next to the entrance of the inn. His head was held low and his cloak concealed much of his right side.

“Indeed.” Violet replied, getting the hang of picking up on Brander’s way with words, “What would be in order for us to accomplish?”

“Eh?” Brander visibly grunted, a puff of smoke exhuming from underneath his hood. His left arm was curled, his hand there constantly near his mouth.

“Is something the matter?” Violet inquired. For all they’d learned the last few days, they couldn’t stop being a bit concerned when seeing someone act in ways they weren’t used to or other small variations thereof. 

In this case, Brander seemed a tad detached. The battlemage of flame flicked what appeared to be the thing he held to his mouth - a small roll - and flicked it aside, crushing it with his boot before speaking, “Don’t you have your own things or problems to deal with?”

“I am concerned as to what our next actions are in preparation for our journey after leaving Adversity.” Violet said plainly.

“Well, there’s me and there’s you. I mean, you’re 50% of that, so maybe you should start concerning yourself with things which particularly concern you, on your own.” Brander said.

“That is why I am consulting with you on the matter.”

“And that is why I am telling you to pis-…” Brander paused, refraining from using any regrettable language against his friend, “-lease go do your own thing!”

The violet mage went silent, eyes darting about as the confusion he felt from thinking too hard about the titular concept and related returned in more muted degrees, “What is my ‘own thing’?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“That is a genuine question. What is my ‘own thing’ in relation to our preparations?” 

Groaning as he stretched, the right side of his cloak oddly still as his left arm raised to the air, Brander soon pinched the bridge of his nose while thinking of something simple to say, “Just- It’s just what you want to do.”

“And what-”

“It’s up to you , Violet. When you told me that your goal was to find out why you exist and your purpose, I figured you were just one of those philosophical types… Just, just how much of you do you even know about at the current?” Brander sighed, his tone annoyed.

“I apologize if my inquiries are not… Satisfactory.” Violet spoke after a momentary silence, struggling to find words for their apology in lieu of Brander’s voice.

“No need, I’m just curious.” Brander shook his head, “To find out why you are who you are, you need to know who you are. The latter’s a bit shaky given what happened when we went out hunting.”

Nodding, Violet thought for a moment before beginning a partially hesitant explanation, “My name is Violet, I am a mage who has been wandering for...” they paused, no specific number nor time frame coming to mind, “A long time.”

“... And?”

“That is all.” Violet gulped. More so out of their own realization at such pitifully concerning small amounts of information they could recall.

Brander stepped forward, asking for more, “Any particular beliefs- Do the gods and goddesses mean squat to you? Stuff like that? What about that… ‘Small place amid the plains’?”

“... I think that such deities are… A thing.” Violet tried to answer, at least acknowledging the first particular inquiry with something. They went silent right after, ignoring the second and third.

“... There’s a lot we need to work on, and I’m not sure how we’re gonna do any of it.” Brander rubbed his face in his palm.

“That is a very sensible conclusion.” Violet nodded with a vexed expression, “I will attempt to find solutions to this problem during a more appropriate time.”

“Well… We’ve still got a few days in town. I argue it’ll be easier to figure anything out here before we get a move on.” Brander suggested, stepping forward.

“... Where would I even begin? The concept of identity is so heavily inscribed within one’s own experience and life .” Violet spoke, hesitant to continue - hesitant to recall their utter lack of any memory resembling what they think is their life.

“Honestly? That’s up to you. I can offer a helping hand, but you’ll need to spearhead your way in dealing with your own problems.”

“I have… Many, at least in regards to the principal issue.”

“Then pick-and-choose. See which ones you think need to be dealt with first.”

Violet remained silent for a long while as they and Brander idled in front of the inn. The former was still trying to grapple with how all that they didn’t know caught up to them, while the latter came to the realization this partnership would not be as smooth as just a walk around the continent. At this point, Brander was almost starting to look at Violet as like some weird child. In a roundabout way, they were.

Violet’s understanding of how the world worked was definitely apparent. They could talk, walk and interact like any other grown human being. Probably better than some others, to a degree. Yet it felt like there was no one at the wheel, like an infant trying to walk or talk for the first time. It was like nearly everything about Violet from the moment they were born aged normally, except whatever was in charge of giving Violet the idea that they were Violet had just taken indefinite leave. Though, to Brander, whatever upbringing Violet had couldn’t have been normal given the kind of person it turned out.

And while Brander was unaware, to exacerbate the fact, the day he met Violet was the day the purple mage decided to go by that name!

“My arcane ability.” Violet said, “I am capable of some form of magic, as we have determined prior. Perhaps not experienced, but it could hold some findings if I were to further explore it.”

“With how it works… That’s feasible.” Brander nodded lightly, putting a thumb to his chin.

“And that-” Violet felt a light ache and nudge in the back of their head as they recalled, shaking it off, “-small place in the plains, ‘ home ’. That must be somewhere here in Kypediad.”

“Plains can be found in any country, but Kypediad’s nearly second-to-none in that regard. I can see the reasoning there.” Brander put his hand in a pocket, “But that should be for when we set off.”

“So, magic?” Violet plainly asked.

Letting out a huff on the cusp of a chuckle, Brander nodded, “Yeah. Magic. Let’s do that first.”

The two magi began to walk through Adversity again, heading to its outer territories so as to not cause a ruckus for the local townsfolk. Finding a nice little clearing, Brander began to set up an impromptu training area using a few nearby trees. Violet watched as their friend formed a small flame in his palm, slowly condensing it into a light on his index finger which began to burn into the bark. Letting the flames crackle for a moment before stamping or blowing them out, Brander slowly singed a rough target into one of the threes.

“So what we know at the moment is that whatever magic you’ve got isn’t exactly anything in particular. Though in its most basic usage, it has the characteristics of rudimentary elemental crafts.” Brander recalled, “Try shooting a bolt at the target. I’ll be able to tell what burns are from what.”

Violet nodded, and taking a breath, prepared themselves to shoot. They focused entirely on the target, and attempted to draw from whatever latent power they seemed to hold. Holding their right arm out with an open palm, they took one more huff as their body tensed and it felt like their very blood was rushing to their arm to feed it as much energy as possible…

Then nothing happened, even as Violet lightly shoved their arm ahead.

“Huh?” Violet grunted, staring at their limb. They nudged it forward a few more times, then began a few swipes or other hand motions. Nothing.

“Do you know… Any of the basic forms of casting spells?” Brander asked after a moment.”

“I know I can do it.” Violet mumbled. A new emotion was showing on their face - annoyance. Eventually, they resorted to snapping like on their walk before when talking about magic.

Brander nodded as he began picking up on the energy forming between Violet’s fingers as they snapped more and more. But unlike the previous time they did this, the power felt less stable. More volatile . That rather than a tiny, excited spark, something far more destructive would result.

Grunting one last time in a near fit of anger, Violet’s hand crackled and burst on a particularly violent snap. Tremendous amounts of energy discharged and hurdled like a ball towards the tree, immediately darkening the bark as if it were made of fire. But on collision, the ball dissipated like a thin cloud as its essence was carried off into the wind.

The recoil sent the purple mage to the ground, Violet landing on their back as Brander moved to inspect the mark left on the tree. Despite the absolutely blackened appearance on that side of the tree, the fire mage couldn’t feel any actual change in temperature aside from just an ever-so feint residual heat.

“It’s just barely warmer than it was before- The burned-in target is still hotter… Wherever it is now.” Brander remarked, turning around and moving to help Violet up.

“That was more powerful than the last time I attempted to cast a bolt.” Violet spoke, rubbing their forehead.

“Probably because you weren’t as… Positive, about it. Y’see, a person’s magical ability can be boiled down to a manifestation of not only latent talent or power, but their… Will, and anything related.” Brander explained, “A sum of many different parts, to be frank.”

“So in my negativity at an inability to successfully cast… My annoyance-” Violet’s clinical tongue came into play, “My resultant spell was far more powerful than it would be say, if I were… Happy?”

“I wouldn’t say more powerful- I’d say unstable . One of the key players in casting is a person’s focus, and depending if that focus comes from say a wish to do something like heal or win, or it comes from anger and displeasure, the spell will either come out how you want it and more, or just wind up as dust in the wind.” Brander elaborated, “What were you trying to do with the energy you were preparing for the shot?”

“I was… Trying to shoot it.” Violet plainly replied.

“As what? Any clear-cut shape? Or just the magic in its most basic form?”

“A bolt… Of energy.”

“Now that’s another thing. You need to have a good grasp of what the power should be or else with all the focus in the world, you’ll do the arcane equivalent of vomiting your guts out after a night at the tavern.” Brander iterated, “What came out was more like a ball rather than a bolt, and it wasn’t the most stable of spheres either.”

“Could you please demonstrate what are the proper steps to casting a spell such as this?” Violet asked.

“Oh.” Brander clicked his tongue as he coughed, “That might be a bit complicated. I asked before if you knew any of the basic forms of casting, so there’s quite a few. I’ll try to use what I think’ll be the easiest to catch on for now.”

Violet nodded as Brander took a spot across from the singed tree. The battlemage of flame began muttering something, his spellcasting hand already prepared to act. He steeled his focus, and spoke aloud.

“Come forth, oh blazing spirit of the earth. Flamma pila , fireball !” Brander cried as fire spewed from each of his fingertips down to the center of his palm, into a sphere, before launching itself forward.

Unlike Violet’s casting, the resulting projectile was confident, stable as it flew through the air. Flames and even smoke trailed behind the bright red-orange sphere while it cruised in a near-flat arc, colliding with the tree in a satisfying crash . Even then, it lingered, now covering that side of the tree in fire and flame which Brander was quick to move up and put out.

“Now, that , was a properly casted fireball. No doubt you can do something similar.” Brander said, “And that was done by incantation.”

“Specifically themed phrases and keywords used to stimulate the flow of mana and other energies within an individual.” Violet remarked.

“Yes that’s… Right.” Brander paused as he realized what Violet just said. The idea that Violet was more developed in some areas and woefully lacking in others was showing itself again, extending further into even their knowledge of things like magic.

“It additionally helps the spellcaster focus their attention wholly on their action, which leads to typically higher rates of successful or stable casting. Based on your previous explanation on how focus and emotions factor into using magic.” Violet continued.

Brander blinked. He plainly nodded as he shook the shock off, beginning his side of explanation, “Incantation is also very convenient. The bare requirements are working vocal cords, a hand or other instrument, and a decent vocabulary.”

“But then, if it hinges on words… How would I be able to use this with my craft? One even you cannot identify?” Violet asked.

“Yeah, that’s the thing. Incantation is convenient but very limited for most magi. It’s why tomes like this are pretty popular wherever they gather.” Brander pulled out the aforementioned object from his satchel, “They’re effectively just books filled to the brim with what to say in order to get a spell going. This one in particular was given to me when I was still in the Redcliff, so it’s a bit more comprehensive.”

“And I presume it only focuses on fire-based spells.”

“On the money.” Brander nodded, eliciting a… Sigh? From Violet.

Again, Violet felt a new emotion. Negative like annoyance, but different - Disappointment . Unless they learned other ways of casting fast, it looked like they would need to be restricted by whatever prefabricated spells and texts they or Brander could get their hands on. For how strange and different the kind of magic they used seemed to be, somewhere in Violet did not want to settle for less.

“However… You don’t need to strictly follow a tome. Theoretically, you could just will and spout whatever you’d like.” Brander huffed, as if recalling a funny memory or thought, “But anyone who ain’t an experienced mage will find it’s a lot more taxing than it’s worth.”

“So if I attempted to cast a sphere similar to your fireball, I could feasibly do so at a greater strain to my mana banks?”

“I mean, if you did so with less impactful or just less words overall, probably. It varies from individual to individual.” Brander nodded, “Magic isn’t restricted to just one element or type for anyone, by the way. You don’t have to stick with that relatively… ‘weird’ type of energy you have. You can try casting my fireball the exact same way and it should come out fine.”

Violet thought for a moment, and nodded as well, “Then I’ll try.”

“Good, whenever you’re ready, friend.”

Violet took in another deep breath as they prepared to try and cast again. Stilling their nerves, they raised an arm again like before, but began to ready their tongue in a few trial phrases and terms for whatever might sound proper. This time relying on incantation, they spoke up.

“Burn, soar and ignite! Fireball !” Violet yelled, immediately feeling an energy course through their arm. 

Like Brander’s spell, the mana manifested as small flames on Violet’s fingertips before gathering near the center of their palm in a sphere. Once it grew large enough, the newly formed ball of flame shot out and towards the trees. It wasn’t as clean as Brander’s fireball, and it began to somewhat dissipate in mid-air, but it was a large step up from Violet’s previous outburst of energy. Even as the ball made impact and its energies properly dispersed, it did leave behind some residual embers.

“Aye! Now that’s the ticket!” Brander practically cheered, patting Violet on the back, “Didn’t even need to copy me word-for-word.”

Violet nodded as they walked forth, moving to stamp out a few small fires left in the wake of their spell. Brander stepped in and helped them extinguish the aftermath, this time using what appeared to be another form of casting.

Tracing some kind of rune above a few of the larger flames, the outline shone for a moment before conglomerating together and transforming into a gust of air. The powerful winds carried away the figurative nutrients the fire needed to combust and sustain itself, quickly forcing it to dwindle out.

“Hm. Symbol casting.” Violet commented, glancing up to the sky in thought.

“Yeah. That’s another one- Illustration, it’s called. Let’s see if you got anything in yer noggin’ about it.” Brander nodded.

“In essence, it can be considered a sibling form to incantation. Similar in execution but it involves the use of drawn representations of the energies being put towards the spell.” Violet pondered.

“About right. And like incantation, different spells have different runes which can be infuriating to trace damn line-for-line...” Brander mumbled, coughing, “...Anyway, if you wanna know what puts it apart, you get a more solid house with these bricks.”

“Compared to incantation, illustration is an overall far more stable way of casting a spell if a symbol is properly replicated.”

“Aye. A bit more taxing on your mana too, but you won’t see most teleport anything or heal fatal wounds just by word of mouth alone. At that point, you can assume the roles would be switched in what’s better to use and what’s not.” Brander explained, “And I’m sure you’ve already inferred but- Without a tremendously good picture-perfect memory, you’ll need to especially rely on tomes tailored for casting by illustration. They’re like a buncha templates you gotta follow.”

“I am suspicious that among our provisions for excursion, we will need several tomes if I am to utilize my magic adequately for any purpose.” Violet pondered.

“Ideally so, but the best Adversity has in that aspect is a library- And I do not want to deal with late or failure to return fees.” Brander clicked his tongue, “The next best thing is to try and cram as much practice in with those resources.”

“It would be in our best interest to do so at the moment.” Violet said, an underlying assertiveness in their tone. At least they seemed to actually want things now, rather than just rebounding off of what others told them.

“Gonna give the library a quick visit then. I’ll trust you can handle yourself here, aye?” Brander began to take a few steps away.

“It will not be misplaced.” Violet nodded, flexing their fingers.

The battlemage began a short jog back towards Adversity, and Violet returned to practicing their magic. They continued with a few attempts at a fireball by incantation, then moved onto working with that strange type of energy inherent to them. As far as the purple mage saw, it was characterized by being a strange mix of fire and electricity in visual form, juxtaposed by a strange lack of any outward strength or power. At least when used on inanimate objects like trees - Brander confirmed that while a bit burned and maybe heated, not much else impacted that tree Violet used as a target. More complex living targets were another topic entirely, given the mage’s encounter with a few bandits on their way to Adversity days ago.

Violet kept that in mind while continuing to practice and refine their casting ability. Now, they were trying to just come up with a few of their own spells. This was limited to basic variations on the standard fireball formula at first - firing off projectiles of different shapes and sizes - but they soon delved into other users for the energy. More immediate discharges from their palm like sudden gusts of wind, or manifestations of the mana in more solid, physical form. Whatever they could come up a half-decent name for alongside a few important terms, they found a rough footing for.

“... Power, endurance, fight. Reinforce .” Violet uttered at one point, attempting to coat their casting arm in a veil of energy like how it had been instinctively during their fight with those brigands.

It partially worked, a thin sheen of light blue power coating their arm. But it wasn’t an exact recreation. As they remembered, it was more like their whole arm was just pale blue , considerably larger in part to the added energies as well. Past that though, the mana did what it should’ve been doing. Violet felt considerably more able in that augmented arm than in their other, and even the act of casting using it was more convenient. 

Though, using mana to manipulate the flow of itself and eventually wrapping around to being able to better expend that energy sounded awfully intensive. Violet didn’t notice anything quite yet, but their tucked-away knowledge on how this whole magic thing worked could subconsciously tell that their mana banks were quite high to sustain the enhancement and not suffer any immediate consequences. To be safe though, Violet recalled the mana and let their arm return to normal.

And then, the mage continued to practice. Ultimately, Violet found themselves focusing on more projectile-based spells. It seemed to be the most interesting kind to perform, observing how their magic impacted the world and environment around them. It was an almost lulling cycle, really, watching pale blue spheres and orbs fly through the air and near-harmlessly hit a few trees.

Then a sharp groan sounded from within the treeline, snapping Violet out of their almost trance-like state of practice. Glaring around, they found nothing in sight.

“Brander…?” the mage inquired aloud, turning around to see if their friend was in the area. Or even, higher powers forbid, they’d actually hit him with one of their spells.

Violet did not even have the time to yelp as a practical shadow shot out of the treeline, barreling towards him. A dark black cloak fluttered as whoever wore it tackled the mage to the ground and poised a single curved blade to their throat. Staring down at them was a face devoid of any positive emotion -  Cold and violent .

What that face saw when looking at Violet was one of shock and fear .

 

---

 

Norman groaned as he began to pick himself up from the ground. One moment he was stealthily chasing some bunny rabbit or other small game for a quest on Hina’s behest, and now he was cradling his head while the world spun around him. His usually shy and soft spoken companion was nowhere to be seen in his swirling gaze, her dark garbs would’ve stood out as a mess of black and grey in the brown and green of the forest. Stabilizing himself on a nearby bark, he called out once he felt his lungs pump enough life giving energy throughout his body that he could spare a bit to talk.

“Hina..! I’m fine! Not even… Not even a scratch!” the young swordsman wobbled through the trees, passing by a few which seemed… Scorched? Whatever hit him probably had hit the trees too, but given him being… Alive , the burned wood seemed more of a visual effect than anything.

Continuing through after receiving nothing but silence, he stepped out into a clearing and saw where Hina had gone off to. There she was, apparently… Hunched over? He could make out what were legs under the girl and that immediately sent him into a panic.

“Wait- Stop !” Norman yelled, running over. He nearly stumbled over, but rushed to keep his friend from doing anything rash.

“Norman?” Hina slightly turned, her face immediately softening upon spotting her friend.

She rose from where she was, practically forgetting the individual she was accosting, before running over and giving Norman the tightest hug she could muster. In a matter of moments, she sheathed one of her blades and sought to ensure the swordsman was fine.

“I’m fine, Hina. Whatever I got hit with was… Nothing, seriously.” Norman sighed, returning the hug, “But what were you doing?”

Hina’s expression slightly hardened as she spared a sidelong glance at the robed individual in violet, who was just now recovering from her sudden advance and near taking of their life.

“I was about to deal with the one who hurt you.” the thief mumbled under her breath.

Norman let out a huff as he saw the person across from him and Hina slowly stood up, parsing themselves for any injuries. The fingers on the hand which found itself on their neck were lightly coated in blood, causing the person to step back in fear.

He didn’t know what to say. Hina nearly just killed someone, for him.

“Hey- I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to get in the way of your business and my friend here is just really-” Norman abruptly began speaking, trying to communicate with the shocked mage.

“Why are you apologizing…?” Hina cryptically mumbled into Norman, staring daggers into him.

“Hina… You don’t kill people just because they…” the swordsman tried to start, but felt his friend’s grip becoming more aggressive.

“It’s a miracle that whatever they casted wasn’t with the intent to kill. What would you be thinking if you didn’t- Couldn’t get up?” Hina asked, her voice strangely dark in tone. Norman wasn’t used to hearing her like this.

He also couldn’t come up with a reply fast enough before Hina continued.

“You should know how we’re meant to handle things like this. There’s no one to help us but ourselves and the few friends we make.” Hina spoke, “It is our responsibility to claim payment for any of our blood that’s been spilled. And you are my friend.”

“That doesn’t excuse what just happened.”

“I know… It’s a nice thing you never really got into the whole crime part of our job. You’re too good for it.”

“Don’t change the topic. That…” Norman sighed, “Magic I was hit with did little more than throw me for a loop and that guy over there probably didn’t expect to hit me. So instead of blades, how about we try words?”

Hina finally released her hug, hands still on the hilts of two long knives kept in sheaths under her cloak at waist level. She stepped back, clearly not wanting to do the talking bit.

She looked slightly ashamed though, when Norman gave her an annoyed glare before he stepped forward to explain himself. But from there, it was up to the swordsman to set things straight.

“What’s your name… Sir? Ma’am?” Norman asked. He couldn’t tell what gender the purple-clad individual was, and he wanted to be respectful.

After a moment of staring at their lightly blooded fingers, the figure spoke, “My name is Violet.” their voice still left their gender an ambiguous topic.

“I’m Norman, good… Friend.” Norman sounded a bit exasperated, “And she’s Hina. Again, I apologize for what she tried to do. She’s very… Protective of her friends.”

Violet nodded in registration of that fact, but kept silent.

Norman’s expression shifted to worry, trying to figure out anything else to say, “What were you doing?”

“Practicing my magic.” Violet plainly spoke, feeling their neck where Hina had cut it. Not too deep, but shallow enough it would still draw blood.

“Oh..! That’s cool… Yeah… What kind?” Norman was running out of options.

“I do not know. I cannot demonstrate, at the risk of my own health.” Violet spoke, but flinched when they saw Hina step forward. Norman raised his arm behind him as a gesture for her to stop, to which she obliged.

“It didn’t hurt, by the way. If you have any worries about that.” Norman now firmly believed that Violet was the one who had hit him.

“That is fortunate.” the mage said, gulping slightly.

“So.. We’re good? All’s well that ends well, right?” Norman tried to get this over and done with. He felt things were friendly enough, and his main concern was getting Hina elsewhere to calm her down and reduce the risk of a violent outburst on her end.

“There must be payment.” Hina grumbled, drawing her blades.

“Hina- No!”

“I apologize, I have some coins here if that would be adequate-!” Violet yelped as they stepped back, fumbling with a sack of coins thinking Hina was talking about money.

As Hina tried to dash forward, the grass before her was scorched in a wall of fire as a blob of flame crashed down from the skies. She jumped back in instinct, and seeing how fast things were deteriorating, Norman drew his sword as well. The flames made it hard to see what was on the other side, but it was clear they weren’t casted by Violet.

What was clear was a second individual rushing forth as the fires subsided, leaving but burned grass and ash. A man in a blue-grey cloak with a set of charcoal pants and vest over a worn shirt had flames dissipating from his fingertips as his one visible hand grabbed the hilt of his weapon. In a near-instant thereafter, a silver streak flashed in front of the two bandits as the man took up a defensive stance, sword held close while pointed at the two of them.

“Through the magma of where you were forged. Calesco. ” the mage of fire spoke, the blade of his sword soon seeming to sear and glow with pure heat, “Now what the hell is going on here?”

“The purple one must pay.” Hina coldly said, gripping her pair of knives tightly.

“Violet doesn’t owe either of you anything .” the man said.

“... Brander, in the course of my training, I have accidentally and non-fatally struck the swordsman, Norman.” Violet spoke up soon after, pointing at the swordfighter in question.

“Alright. Then maybe they owe you an apology.” Brander shifted his blade towards Norman, but then tilted it towards Hina, “And what of you, assassin ?”

Hina kept silent as Brander called her that, the two exchanging a tense gaze. She grunted, her face contorting into one of anger as she… Sheathed her blades.

“Hina..?” Norman asked, also stowing his sword.

“Let’s leave them alone.” Hina grumbled, stepping back while keeping her gaze trained on the two mages. She ultimately fled into the trees, forcing Norman to chase after her.

“Again! I’m- We’re sorry! Have- Have a good day!” the swordsman desperately tried to apologize again, disappearing into the trees soon after.

It would take a solid minute or two before Norman caught up to his well-tilted companion. He found her against a tree, tightly clutching her cloak as she hyperventilated. Hina gave him a brief glare, before forcing herself to calm down.

“Sorry.” she muttered.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Norman rubbed his face, “I appreciate you looking out for me but please, don’t do it like that.”

“I won’t. Not again. Never.” Hina vehemently answered, more to herself than anyone else.

“You sure?” Norman looked at her with a tired expression.

“I swear. I promise.” Hina spoke, and then mumbled to herself repeatedly.

Norman nodded, and just kept a glance at his friend. A mixture of questions were running through his head as to how bad this could’ve been, and what this meant for his and Hina’s stint in Adversity. As well, the fire mage- Brander’s remark calling Hina an assassin gave the novice swordsman a degree of worry. Just how worse could things get if he had a few more bad run-ins with enough people that Hina would go back on her promise? As much as she wanted to seem to keep it for him, everyone had to have some upper limit.

“Why don’t we get back to hunting? I didn’t catch the rabbit from earlier, so we can still get that quest done.” Norman tried to offer a smile despite what he had been through.

“I think that’ll help us both.” Hina nodded while lightly brushing off Norman’s hand from her shoulder. She drew one of her knives, but didn’t keep so tight of a hold on it.

In silence, the two returned to sweeping the forest for their quest. Norman always gave a look towards Hina to keep himself assured about her restraint, and Hina always glanced back to make sure one of the people she cared the most about was still behind her.

 

---

 

“What in all that is both holy and unholy in this realm did you do to nearly get gutted like a lamb?” Brander seethed as he and Violet began walking back towards Adversity.

A set of books was held under his arm, a degree of dirt and grime on the texts. They were evidently dropped when he stepped in to intervene on Violet’s assault, and the fact the battlemage of flame would have to explain their condition to the librarian probably added to his current anger.

“I was practicing my magic.” Violet said with an intentional monotone.

“How? And why in such a way that led to that mess?” Brander reiterated.

“I was using the trees as target practice when one of my shots failed to land true, and it hit someone that I was not aware was in the forest. I was additionally unaware that he had a companion who was extremely caring for him, to the point she would attempt to take my life for this accident.”

“Couldn’t you have… I don’t know… Taken a break ?” Brander said.

“I have deduced that neither of us have not exerted ourselves extensively in either physical health or mana reserves when you left to retrieve more practice material. I saw it as inappropriate to squander what could be used as valuable time to practice.” Violet replied.

“And you saw it fit to just lob mana projectiles over and over?”

“I practiced other uses for magical energy, including utility usage such as bodily augmentation or basic wind manipulation through discharging mana immediately.” Violet recounted.

“Well… This wasn’t a total mess, then.” Brander’s demeanor shifted slightly, his anger letting way for an odd sense of relief… And confusion, “ Augmentation? That’s… Impressive. ” he thought.

“How will we handle my development in my arcane ability now?” Violet inquired. Their tone indicated they were quite concerned about that.

“We’ll just have to find some nice, empty spot inside of Adversity. That means we’re gonna be less practical and more theoretical… Which might not be the best given how much you already seem to know about this.” Brander grumbled, “Or we could spar. That’s what I think we should be doing, so you don’t wind up dead before you know it.”

“Develop my… Combat skill?”

“Self-defense, or offense. You’re really lucky to still be alive. That girl… I can tell you from my years of experience that she was going to kill you.” Brander shook his head, “Keep that in mind. Not everyone you meet is going to be as calm or reasonable as me, her friend, or anyone else in Adversity.”

Violet nodded, and then remarked on an old memory, “... She was like two people I ran into on my initial trip to the town.”

“Hm?” Brander raised a brow.

“A woman with a spear and a man with an axe. The lancer called themselves part of the ‘Gravel Bandits’, and she struck me about here.” Violet patted their chest, locating a piece of ripped fabric on their undershirt and a nearly healed over cut underneath.

“How’d you handle them?”

“I… Didn’t.” Violet’s brows furrowed, “I acted on instinct. I tried to avoid them as much as possible, and any speech they had was in regards to ending my life and between themselves. When my life was in extreme danger, I may have augmented one of my arms with a sheer amount of mana that one punch from it immobilized one of the bandits immediately, and scared them off.”

“And you didn’t know any of the forms of casting then, right? All emotion?” Brander asked.

“It would seem.” Violet plainly nodded.

“Then honing your skills in combat is top priority. Luck’s saved you twice, and I’d rather not have you end up paying the price the third time ‘around.” Brander said, shifting his cloak, “This world isn’t very kind, Violet. There’ll be more of what happened back then and today.”

Violet glanced over and saw what was under their friend’s cloak for the first time. Where his undershirt sleeve should’ve started was instead tied fabric, over a stump .

“... Okay.” Violet simply nodded, remaining silent through the rest of their trip and any further training sessions that day, for that matter.

Chapter 8: Borrowed Time

“It’s time, Gaia .” Mortivant mused as his boney form slowly glided across the large garden of corpses cultivated by Gravel. A wide, unrelenting smile of pure malice was set upon his old features, wrinkles and streaks of age giving way to a terrifying visage. However, to the bandit leader who viewed him in disdain, any fear he felt came from more than just a scary looking man.

“No… I… You… We need more troops. This place… Will not suffice alone.” Gravel spoke, eyes vacantly scanning the sea of graves made by his hand. Some only marked by a cross or tombstone amid the green field, others a freshly sowed plot of set dirt.

“I have reassured you many a time that, for now, we possess more than adequate forces to deal with Adversity. It would be in our best interests if we both respected the time of my masters.” the Necromancer hammered in his voice, producing the Inviere from under his cloak, “Or are you having second thoughts about our partnership?”

“I only wish to ensure we do not do anything rash. Raiding a village will be a large step up from mere robbery or isolated killings.” Gravel answered, the worry evident in his voice once he was taunted with that spellbook Mortivant gripped.

“And what do you think for these dormant soldiers? They are your reinforcement. Or even part of the initial attack. Whatever grants us greater success.” Mortivant said.

Gravel huffed. His knuckles whitened around his shovel as he just considered swinging here and now, doing away with the insistent mage. His glance constantly shifted from Mortivant’s smile of spite and the Inviere .

“One more week, and we will move in full force.” Gravel adamantly said, earning a series of tsk’s from Mortivant.

“Time, Gravel. It is of the essence, doubly so to those I serve. Was it not a week ago that I informed you they needed their plans set in motion? What must I say to buy you another week to waste away?” Mortivant cackled, “And what of then, in another seven days? ‘One more week’ in a week, to two, then three?”

“I just need to make some last preparations.”

“A simple speech to rile and rouse that dastard family of criminals, cutthroats and psychos should come to you naturally.” Mortivant’s expression suddenly hardened, a thick aura of dark purple energies surrounding the Inviere .

Gravel flinched, any pent-up anger turning to fear in an instant.

“We march. Now . Lest you bring upon the wrath of forces greater than I.” the Necromancer spoke without a hint of evil amusement from the situation, but soon a few laughs escaped his chest, “Even if I fall, by your hand or someone else, there will be another to handle this loose end.”

Gravel huffed, nodding in resentment, “Understood.”

“Go.” Mortivant dismissed, gesturing the man away. Gravel obliged.

As the leader of the Gravel Bandits left his garden, the Necromancer began to reap what he sowed. Stowing the Inviere back under his robes and gripping his staff with both hands, he planted the sharp base of the pole into the ground. Dark energies and mana soon flew out and sparked from both the orb held between the two pincers of the staff’s head and Mortivant’s hands, a bright pink replacing the whole of his eyes as his power began to surge throughout the land.

A powerful force emanated from where the staff was lodged, Mortivant’s cloak fluttering in the wind as the dark mage stabilized himself. Letting his hands off, the Necromancer called up to the clouded skies above.

“ Encase this domain in your power my masters! Grant your servant the tools to uphold your will! Grant me the right to the bestowment of life just so briefly, so I may call upon a new generation of those to serve you! ”

As the skies began to darken at those words, a bolt of lightning struck the head of the staff, rebounding back up into the clouds above and expanding across the cemetery into a low dome-like field of purple energy. Mortivant laughed, as he began to swing his hands and arms through the air. The shapes and figures he drew began to be represented on the ground itself, manifesting as faint black light cutting through the soil and grass.

Once the whole of the ground where the garden of the dead lay was marked with this sigil, Mortivant raised his arms up to the sky as a deep, volatile pink encased his hands. He slammed his mana-infused hands into the ground, the energies quickly rushing to the nearest part of the sigil’s black outline like blood through veins and arteries. The ground shone with a now deep purple glow, as the Necromancer continued to chant and call out to his masters for their power.

Stepping forward and gripping his staff again, Mortivant dislodged the pole from the ground and uttered one more incantation as he prepared to stab it down again.

“Arise from your slumber and wake again in undeath! To serve and be vessels to the highest power! Exsurge ut servias !”

The Necromancer drove his stave down into the Earth and every bit of mana and energy in the area began to resonate. The sigil’s light expanded upwards as it touched the ceiling of the dome, coating the cemetery in a bright pink-purple light as it was torn down to be absorbed into the spell. Mortivant felt power both leaving and entering him as the energies in and around him continued to overflow. In one last burst of dark light, everything ceased.

The sigil shone brightly one last time, before disappearing entirely from the ground.

Then, the ground began to stir .

“How delightful… I’ve still got it.” Mortivant remarked to himself as an rotten and decayed army extricated themselves from the ground, tilting their loose, stiff and partially complete heads towards him in guidance. For now, all he could reply was with that old, malicious , smile.

 

---

 

Gravel heaved and huffed as he returned to camp. A scowl of anxiety and rage marred his features while he spouted curses and wildly struck nearby trees with his shovel in an attempt to calm himself, but to no avail. His fear and anger had boiled over, and there was little he could do to stop himself from exerting it at this current moment.

His mind was in utter turmoil. Gravel questioned everything which he had done over the course of the last few years since he had met Mortivant. To let himself fall from grace at heights which would outright kill most people. But Gravel hadn’t been like most people for even longer.

“ The symbol of life, Gaia. ” he thought, “ He’s dead ! Why do I even believe that Inviere will answer my call if I ever lay my hands upon it again in this life? ”

Gravel cursed himself. Cursed what he let himself stand for now. A twisted mockery of his peak as a hero of the realm. He wasn’t just a fool as he had called himself a week ago, he was much worse. Nothing better than a walking husk with the misfortune of keeping a semblance of consciousness. The only thing which he found positive about this was that no one ever recognized him as such.

The only people who he even met on a consistent basis viewed him as a warlord - a savage, a criminal, a cunning brute, a comrade …

A leader in banditry .

“ How did I even attract all this attention? ” Gravel’s head began to hurt, “ Why, of all people, I was the one who became a leader of the scum of this earth? ”

Gravel’s thoughts toward himself became more and more negative as he drew near to his camp, the epitome of what he had become. In criminal terms, it was like his own little kingdom. Land that the law couldn’t touch while keeping those who it guarded protected. Those who tread on it having sworn utmost fealty through fear. For all intents and purposes, he was a king .

But he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel anything close to that. All he felt was sadness and anger towards himself. To an extent as well, the world at large for letting whatever had led him here pan out. But above all, he felt rage towards that damned Necromancer.

Mortivant.

“If I must trade my own life for that bastard’s to end, so be it!” Gravel yelled up towards the sky, “Have you heard me? Have any of you heard me?”

He seemed to be talking to no one, but Gravel felt like he was just being ignored. He cursed and lashed out against the environment all around him, to naught but the quiet wind. Once he had cooled himself out just a bit, he continued his accusations against the gods and goddesses above.

“I have served, fought for this land for decades and eons… Used the long life granted when I became one of your champions to stand up against the worst evil to have plagued this world in millenia!” Gravel shouted, his voice nearly cracking into a sad croak.

“I tried my best, is it not enough !?”

“You damned Builders, answer me !” Gravel demanded, stopping in his tracks as he stared up towards the deep blue and scattered clouds.

He let himself just stand there in silence, and silence was all that replied.

“ Idun... Mother. Have you forsaken one of your sons ?” his voice drooped down as he murmured, continuing to stare vacantly.

He didn’t know what to expect if none of those he was trying to communicate with said anything, nonetheless the particular goddess he had been the most associated- closest with.

“... And Hel… Must I force my own hand if I am to convene with you again?”

No sound. No reply. Nothing.

“Very well. But I shan’t meet you again before that skeletal excuse for a man has had his soul presented to you for judgment.” Gravel swore, his rage flaring again for just a moment.

In that instant however, his hands tingled . His oath to vengeance manifested as proper magic he had not been familiar with for an immeasurable amount of time. A light green layer of mana seemed to resonate from the skin of Gravel’s hands, but quickly dissipated once he had taken note. The calloused, darker olive green he was used to was all he found after a mere split-second.

“...”

Gravel, in silence, turned his gaze back up to the sky.

“ Thank you for not giving up on me, mother .” he thought after a while. The green energy lightly appeared again, on-and-off as Gravel began to really calm down.

Head held high, the soon to not-be leader of bandits continued towards his compound.

 

---

 

“Got anymore of those sweet tarts?” Slick said while chewing on a piece of jerky, sat around a doused campfire near the center of camp.

Eyeing the inside of the small box present on his lap, Slough glanced briefly between it and his friend before offering a simple, “Nope.”

“I’ll take one bite and you can have the rest.” the lancer didn’t buy it, extending one of her hands and winding her fingers quickly in a “over here” gesture.

“Hmm… Yeah, a 70-30 split.” the former lumberjack chuckled, “Get your own.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

The two bandits continued their short banter over their snacks, taking the current day nice and easy. Yesterday was the somewhat fruitful end of a week or so of pointless stake-outs in the forest in the hopes of robbing someone via ambush. Though the only time they did, it was catastrophic. It was on that last day when they intervened in their former comrade’s own robbery, saving the lives of their victims, in which things seemed to turn around.

For their efforts, they earned food, respect in the outside world, and to an extent, status . Gravel’s unexpectedly nonchalant stance towards their slaying of four of their own was impactful, to say the least. The fear which seemed to be instilled in nearly anyone in Gravel’s presence had interpreted this as the man favoring these two in particular. Which in turn, meant that if they had problems with Slick or Slough, any direct action would probably lead them to speaking with the boss himself.

There were of course people who thought nothing of the sort, and held the two bandits as traitors in their views regardless of any regret or second thoughts they may have had about their actions. More likely than not planning schemes of revenge and retaliation to an extent, biding their time. But the amount of those like that to those who continued to view them in relatively good terms was so disproportionate against them it was unlikely Slick and Slough would ever have to worry about it… For now.

“At least lemme get a peek at what you got, eh?” Slick retracted her arm, leaning over.

“Alright then.” Slough took the small box and opened its lid all the way, revealing… Nothing. Except a few crumbs and jam stains on the light fabric of the interior.

Slick swallowed the piece of jerky she was eating and after briefly fighting it down as it threatened to choke her, she let out an exasperated “ huh!? ” at the sight.

“I mean, what did you expect when I said ‘nope’?” Slough spoke with just a tiny bit of smugness.

“... That you’d be hiding some, what else do you think my insistence was about?” Slick jabbed him in the shoulder with feigned animosity.

“Fair, fair. Why? You’re out?”

“We’re in the same boat, I’d say.”

The both of them remained silent.

“It’s only been a day since we got all of that and we already ate it all.” Slick remarked.

“Good protein. Lotta calories are in our system for spending in the coming days.” Slough shrugged, tapping one of his relatively toned arms. Slick felt the same on herself, checking elsewhere.

“It barely accounted for how much time we spent without eating or drinking anything out there.” Slick said, a bit alarmed at how much empty space was between the hem of her shirt and her stomach.

“But now that we’re here, we can take our fair share of anything in the storehouse.”

“Gonna miss the high class stuff though.” Slick sighed.

Slough did as well, nodding in agreement, “Stale bread is better than nothing, I suppose…”

The two continued to just laze about for a while, having small talk and occasionally interacting with the others around camp. Sometimes getting into brief arguments or altercations with less kind folk, and exchanging a kind remark to those with more well-off dispositions.

After about an hour or so, the loud, rhythmic banging of some kind of metal on metal echoed throughout the camp. Attentions drawn, the assortment of brigands and bandits going about their business investigated to see their leader standing around the center of the compound. There stood Gravel, banging his shovel against an old, rusted cuirass presumably plundered from one of the more “undeveloped” parts of camp.

“Alright everyone, c’mere. I’ll only be saying this a few times, so if any of you don’t understand or haven’t heard a lick of what came outta my trap, ask a friend. Plenty around.” Gravel spoke, his way of speaking was rough and blunt, a far cry from the relatively plain yet partially intimidating tone he employed when he seldom spoke to the bandits.

Slick and Slough found themselves as part of a large crowd gathered around the man, listening to what he had to say.

“Now, this camp right ‘ere? It’s good, yeah? Nice little home for each and everyone one of us, a slice of heaven some would say.” Gravel began to speak, “Wouldn’t some of you say it’s quite stale? A little boring, even?”

Silence filled the air as no one dared speak, not aloud, at least. Though in contrast to what some may have thought due to the inherent fear for their leader, Gravel seemed to be seeking actual discussion.

“... The same old broken cobblestone stops being homey and starts feeling like a prison cell you don’t have a stay in. I’m sure at least a few of this lot think that way.”

Again, quiet.

“C’mon, be honest. What I have to say next’ll be on their side.” Gravel shrugged, tossing away the broken cuirass.

“Well… It isn’t the most comfortable place to be.” one bandit spoke up.

“Really! Hammocks get old and there aren’t enough beds and mattresses to go around without a squabble.” another added, much more vocal.

“The second floor of the barracks ain’t even complete.” one brigand pointed to the building in question, “And the top of the watchtower gets colder than the northern wastes at night!” 

“How’d you know? What are ya, a Talvian?” another remarked.

“Yeah!”

“And our food stores aren't even properly managed, too. Half our bread is stale-going-moldy, and anything that’s even a bit organic is rotting.” a particular cook, Breanne, spoke.

At that man’s contribution to the list of problems plaguing the camp, Slick and Slough relaxed that they hadn’t plucked anything out from the storehouse for an extra snack a few moments ago.

“Okay, so I can see plenty of you got a bone ta’ pick with this place, and I’ll be frank. I do too.” Gravel paused, his expression unchanging, but the cogs in his brain turning, “It ain’t enough no more.”

Numerous bandits within the crowd raised a brow or had some look of intrigue at their leader’s remark, while others raised suspicions. Slick was of the former, while Slough backed off as his mind considered the latter.

“ Where’s this going ?” the two of them thought in unison.

“So, here’s an idea.” Gravel raised his voice, “It’s about damn time we all move up in life, yeah?”

For a moment, everyone was quiet, but soon enough the slight clamor and cheer began to reply to Gravel’s call. It quickly grew louder and more vibrant as people picked up on what their boss was suggesting. Slick and Slough remained quiet, the latter especially slipping into the back of the crowd so his scrutinizing expression wouldn’t bring any attention to himself.

“Let’s move up into the big leagues! We all tread this path ‘cause we ain’t lickin’ up the slop that the so called ‘nobility’ and ‘high class’ toss our way!” Gravel raised up his shovel amid the cheers and yells of his subordinates, “We got some pretty good numbers behind us, right?”

“So I’d say… First stop, Adversity !” Gravel pointed his tool to about the north-east of where he stood, “Easy pickings with an excuse for a militia!”

The rambunctious clamor among the bandits seemed to reach an all-time high as they learned of their target for takeover. A few expressed muted reservations to the idea, given Gravel’s second statement, but the feelings of the group spelled overconfidence one could only find in larger-than-life bands such as this.

Slick and Slough however held much more than just hesitations and such. They were to put it bluntly, shocked . While they didn’t know enough about their fellow bandits to know things like where they came from, to the two, Adversity wasn’t just some random hapless village. For them, it was their hometown. It would be one of the most bombastic, violent homecomings that could ever happen.

“We’ll walk in and take what we want! It’s survival of the fittest out ‘ere, aye?” Gravel spurred on, his voice booming around the compound, “Get packin’, ‘cause we move out tomorrow! That goes for all of you!”

As Gravel finished his speech, the cries and cheers of his bandits never seemed to cease. They all dispersed on his order, whether or not to actually prepare or to daydream about possible future riches was uncertain.

As the camp began to be repopulated all around, Slick and Slough retreated to the edge of the compound in relative seclusion.

“This ain’t good, man.” Slick rubbed her forehead, wiping off some sweat from her brow.

“What’s Gravel thinking..?” Slough pondered, deep in thought, “He’s not… Stupid.”

“But he seems damn adamant on having us take over our hometown!” Slick hushed her voice, “You saw how he talked, right? That wasn’t a half-assed performance, he’s serious.”

“Why though? He is not the kind of leader to make such decisions on a whim, and I don’t suppose this is just one impulse he’d let through… That’s more fitting for how he acted when we brought back the food Pela and Merl gave us.”

“The allure of wanting to try high-class stuff is much more reasonable than wanting to take over a village.” Slick mumbled.

“This won’t end well, no matter who comes out on top.” Slough shook his head, “Barely any of us have professional training with any of our weapons, and we’re the only two who know that two Redcliff Knights are among the militia numbers.”

“I mean, I kinda have some skills with my spear, but I’m a reject. Goes to show how much Gravel is underestimating them, even if for morale…” Slick scratched the back of her neck.

“It’ll be a slaughter. Every entrance to Adversity is a natural chokepoint, and if our approach is even slightly picked up on, we may as well try and climb all the rocks around it to flank.”

“Don’t suppose any of us are planning on bringing ladders…” Slick huffed.

“Hey- Hello?” a third voice spoke, causing the other two bandits to slightly flinch at who it belonged to. It was Breanne.

“Oh, hey…” Slick tried to greet, giving a small wave, but gave up once she couldn’t recall this individual’s name.

“It’s Breanne. Are you two talking about the boss’ order?” Breanne asked.

“Yes..? And do you want to talk about it?” Slough raised a brow.

“Well… I… It’s not good. Not at all.” the patchwork overall-wearing bandit spoke, “I’ve got people I know there. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why are you telling us of all people this?” Slick asked.

“You two didn’t seem to have the most… Happy reactions to the order. Saw you guys back away, and all…” Breanne answered. The other two’s eyes briefly widened, before they relaxed.

“Ah, we’re in the same boat, really… Unfortunately, that includes not having a clue how to deal with this.” Slough answered.

“We can’t stand up against everyone. There’s too many of them.” Breanne spoke, “But we can’t just splinter and run off when we march.”

“Actually, we could.” Slough was hit with a realization, “Me and Slick have built up a certain reputation with some key figures we know are in Adversity at this moment.”

“Like?” Breanne listened intently.

“Just your dime a dozen, well-doing adventurers. Good standings.” Slick said, “There may be other issues to us suddenly appearing there but… I think that’ll be set aside for the greater problem at hand.”

“We won’t be able to just leave early from camp under the pretense of ‘getting a head start’. If anything, Gravel will try to organize a proper march.” Slough predicted.

“The boss does seem like he favors strategy, probably has big plans if he decided to do this of all things.” Breanne remarked.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Slough mumbled, glancing in Slick’s direction.

Slick raised her hands defensively, “Look, none of any of what we’re slinging here is concrete. The chances of him being actually bent on taking over Adversity are as high as him leading us all on a death march. Whatever might be ticking in his head is also something we can’t pin down.”

Abruptly, Slough and Breanne silenced themselves. They kept their gaze on Slick, who seemed to be unaware of… Whatever caused them to act like this. Noticing they seemed to be looking behind her, she slowly turned around.

To find Gravel standing right behind her.

“O-Oh, hey boss!” she tried to greet, noting his usually unreadable but implicitly intimidating expression. Whether or not that was something to be happy about was for another time, “How's it hangin..?”

“... You don’t wish to take part in what’s to be done tomorrow, none of you do.” Gravel said after an uncomfortable silence. No accusation in his tone, just a plain matter of fact. At that notion, the three in front of him nodded.

After another silence, he also nodded, and spoke, “Good.”

Going against her better judgment, Slick replied, “Excuse me, boss?”

“What you and Slough did yesterday is one of the few decent things I’ve learned anyone in this lowlife gang has done. Your moral compasses aren’t entirely screwed, is what I gathered.” Gravel explained, “I have zero respect for effectively everyone in this group. You’re part of the exception.”

The eyes of the three bandits standing before their leader nearly widened as a collective when he spoke, not expecting that from the same person who seemed to rule through fear and just announced an attack on a proper town moments ago.

“So use whatever reasoning and standing you have or whatnot to cut ties with this mess , and fall in with the people in Adversity. But, listen closely, do not try to stand against the assault.” Gravel’s tone lowered as he glanced around, like he was hiding something.

Unable to properly register this, the three in front of him nodded.

“There won’t only be the criminals here to worry about once we set off. There’s something no one here will be able to handle, not on their own.” Gravel made that a point, “Find a way to get Adversity evacuated . Convince those Knights of Redcliff, if they are still in the settlement, that must be so.”

Slough cleared his throat to speak, a bit weary about the idea, “To them, me and Slick were passing adventurers. I’m not sure we can just barge in and get them to understand a whole force of bandits and more will try to take over, no matter how we act or word it.”

“Then just do anything you can to get them prepared for anything .” Gravel sighed, “This is all your choice, by the way. Do whatever you wish. Past this moment, consider yourselves no longer bound to my order, if you ever thought that way.”

The three bandits, or rather, soon-to-be former bandits, stood stupefied at how Gravel was acting. It was a complete and utter turn of character for him, at least whatever character they thought of him before now. But the time to ask more questions was rapidly passing.

Slick looked at her effectively former boss in his now both visible eyes, feeling a sense of melancholy. The bandits had somewhat been like a second family for her, and while she was never close with many of them, it still came as a bit sudden for all this to happen. She spoke plainly, “We’ll see what we can do.”

“See to it.” Gravel nodded, in the same way when he had asked and had been answered about the sweet tarts he tasted before. The taste was still on his tongue.

He began to walk off, but sparing them one last glance, pulled his hood further over his head, “And good luck in the future.”

The three people standing idly by the edge of camp watched as Gravel moved deeper into the camp. The exchange had answered a few questions, brought up new ones, and overall left everyone still… Confused . They didn’t exactly get Gravel’s intentions with the attack, but with what else he told them, that mattered very little.

Slough, Slick and Breanne nodded to each other, instead focusing on heeding what Gravel had told them. Speaking in even more hushed tones, they planned what to do the next day when whatever was to happen tomorrow, happened.

Chapter 9: Calm Before The Storm

“Your form is sloppy. You’ll be swept off your feet at any moment.” Cain sternly spoke while he adjusted the stance one of the members of Adversity's militia adopted while wielding his spear, golden armor guiding the dull silver-plated villager who volunteered to take up arms in defense of his home. One of many.

“This isn’t a two-handed sword. Use one hand. Be quick, swift.” Abel advised, drawing one of his own blades in demonstration as he passed by a woman practicing with her secondary short sword, “You’ll need to get used to handling the weight in one hand.”

Before the day had properly started for the town of Adversity, the members of the town militia and their Redcliff Advisors awoke during the break of sunrise in preparation for a harsh day of training and conditioning. Using the still empty streets outside the central barracks, armored forms sparred, struck and practiced various tactics passed down to them by bona fide knights. Those in question had one goal in mind: like chiseling a block of stone into a lifelike statue, they would whip the already disciplined and hardy fighting force of the village into the best soldiers they could be. If the lack of complaint and willful trust of their more royally-tied comrades was an indicator, the militia men and women found that an agreeable term.

The near-silent, rhythmic pace to which the soldiers engaged in their training continued on throughout the earliest reaches of the morning. Even as Adversity woke up proper and the citizenry filed out of their homes to begin their workdays, the outdoors training session of their protectors was a slight sight to behold. Passing folk usually spared a warm glance or friendly word to either a particular someone they knew in the militia, or just to those present as a whole. Regardless, the soldiers fittingly soldiered on in their regimen.

“Attention!” Cain commanded, suddenly halting the actions of the militia members near instantly. Abel moved from where he was to stand next to his comrade, as the militia began to form ranks.

“This concludes our first weaponry skills refreshment!” Abel announced, clearing his throat, “And if I may share my observations, a good majority of you do know how to handle your weapons in some capacity… However , further refinement is much needed. But, good job.”

“While meddling skills may be tolerated at this moment, know that you will be expected to go through some semblance of improvement within the coming days.” Cain continued with less kindness in his tone relative to Abel, but a similar conviction.

“Remember, none of you are just common folk who chose to take up arms against the threats your fellow men and women may face! At least anymore…” the younger knight began, “In their eyes, you are as good as knights! You must… Uphold that image!”

“Therefore, you must be able to endure, and thrive in the training regimen me and my partner have planned for you this week. Just as you all have been under the instruction of the previous knights dispatched for the same purpose, and just as you have been under their predecessors.” Cain nodded, “And this is but a fraction of what proper Knights of Redcliff must go through prior to being titled as such!”

“So to anyone who aims to go to higher places after a well-served tenure in this nice town, do your best during the next seven days!” Abel added, “Who knows, we might even have a kind word or two to our recruitment officers should the need for more soldiers arise in the future!”

Cain let out a tell-tale annoyed sigh at his more upbeat counterpart’s last comment, nodding it off, “Until that point however, keep focus on your position as Adversity’s shield. Sparring duels will commence shortly. Disperse into pairs, and be ready for any conditions me or Sir Abel will apply.”

The men and women forming ranks quickly nodded, scattering across the training grounds as they swiftly hustled into pairs. As soon as that was dealt with, Cain’s commanding voice boomed aloud once again as he pointed to a random set of militia.

“State your rank and name, both of you.”

“Footman, Pike.” the first soldier spoke. He lazily supported his spear against himself as he transitioned slowly into a salute.

“Corporal, Keen.” the second soldier answered while saluting. One hand rested on the hilt of a longsword sheathed on his hip.

“Take positions across from each other, center of the road. Prepare your weapons.” Cain stated while directing the two as their comrades cleared the way to give them space.

The two readily - At least in Keen’s case - followed the order, retrieving blunt, wooden renditions of their weapons of choice. Pike’s movements could be compared to sleep-walking as he used his wooden spear like a glorified walking stick. A rough pat on the back by the much more aware Keen didn’t help his stability, as he nearly stumbled forward from the unexpected gesture.

“Fight until you can’t. Disarmament is not the end of everything.” Abel simply said, adopting Cain’s by-the-book way of speech for a moment, “Begin.”

Keen delved forward with his longsword with a clear tenacity and drive, while Pike - As slacked as he made himself to be - replied in turn with well-timed sidesteps and retaliatory thrusts. Two experienced users of their respectable weapons worked to try and find gaps in the other’s defense while simultaneously fronting a suitable offense. Levying what knowledge, skill and muscle memory had gotten them to this point under the watchful eyes of their comrades and the Redcliff Knights. Occasionally as well, for civilians who found the time to spare for the spectacle.

Despite the professional nature of their presence in Adversity, Abel didn’t halt himself from trying to kick up some small talk, “So who do think’ll win?” he whispered.

Despite his helmet visor seeming to be bolted down at all times, it was clear Cain was giving Abel the nastiest side-eye possible through the slit which granted him vision, “It is inappropriate to treat such matters like we’re no better than hooligans at a coliseum.”

In return, Abel gave Cain a frowning deadpan face of his own. A taste of one’s own medicine, which seemed to work somehow, as Cain let out a brief huff before lowering his voice even further, “The Footman.”

“Elaborate.”

Despite his annoyance, Cain tried to condense the flurry of notes and anything else he had to say about the two sparring in his head to get the most simple and least harsh answer, “In this particular scenario, he has the superior weapon type and adequate accompanying skills. Steady footing, a ready stance with the polearm. Observant, I’d say.”

“Ah. Just like you eh? Spending minutes at a time just staring at the enemy to look for the one loose brick to send the house crumblin’ down?” Abel imitated a building collapsing after ‘removing’ part of it, patting one of Cain’s pauldrons with a rattle.

“Not a matter of relatability… Which I admit is also not entirely untrue, but that is the way you should approach a battle.” Cain continued to observe Keen and Pike fight, the rattling of their armor thankfully masking his hushed tone, “The Corporal has a clear focus and an apparent advantage, continuing to extend off his first strike-”

“-Which is why I think he’ll come out on top. It’s important to act fast, and on a battlefield you don’t leave tactical analysis to the point where you’re facing your enemy eye-to-eye.” Abel interrupted, tossing his two cents on the philosophy of combat.

“But he isn’t managing himself sustainably.” Cain spoke, eyes narrowing like a hawk’s to better track Keen’s movement. The Corporal was still kicking and swinging, but to seasoned fighters and warriors like the Redcliff Knights, small imperfections and exponential mistakes in how he was conducting himself could be readily apparent. 

What Cain saw was a soldier who was treating every one of his strikes like a decisive one - A strong fell swoop which would immediately crown him the victor. Even as Pike seemed to be adamant in remaining defensive with nearly all of his current maneuvers focused on evasion, Keen still tried to put as much force as he could in each swing or even sword thrust of his own. It was a rapid drain on stamina if results weren’t made apparent quickly, and a usually fatal mistake in both single combat as well as out on a battlefield where skirmishes between one and several people could and would take place.

Such ideas were soon proven true when even Abel noticed his favored duelist’s slightly waning hold on his wooden sword. Keen’s arms flexed and strained to recover from each of his attacks while Pike calmly kept a firm grip on his spear. On an evidently tired strike, Pike decided to counter by swatting away Keen’s weapon and succeeded in spades - His opponent staggered back as one of his hands lost its grip and his sword was deterred far enough away any recovery attempt would be for naught.

As it was when Keen tried to bring back up his wooden blade, only to find the tip of the long pole Pike used as his lance abruptly poking against his throat. If it were a real spear, that would’ve been the bladed metal head of the polearm slicing his windpipe open. Though the duel wouldn’t have ended if either of them were properly disarmed, it sure as hell would if a would-be fatal injury was achieved.

“The fight is over. The victor is Footman Pike. Clear the road.” Cain flatly spoke while the militiamen retrieved their proper weapons. 

“... Well, maybe he could’ve pulled through or responded better if he hadn’t worn himself out that much.” Abel remarked in the aftermath of the spar.

Cain visibly turned his head, the blank expression of his visor looking at Abel now. The younger knight was about to ask if his comrade had anything to say, until the gears clicked in his head as to what would most likely come out of his mouth.

“Don’t bring it up.” Abel partly leered. A faint chuckle escaped the small patterned holes on the lower half of Cain’s visor.

“I was just going to say that if you had followed such advice during our bouts as initiates, you’d probably have won a good few of them.”

“... You are very lucky we’re both considered the same rank.”

“Likewise, likewise.” Cain remarked as he gestured to another pair of militia members, and got them ready to fight.

For the rest of the foreseeable morning, the town militia continued their training under their Redcliff counterparts. Much of it was sparring, with those defeated in each initial bout eventually being grouped up into a loser’s bracket for further observation and advising. Once that was completed, more basic physical exercises and such were conducted. Overall, it looked to be an intensive if simple to follow routine for the day, and days to come.

At least, that’s what everyone hoped it would be.

 

---

 

Dawn crackled over the soon-to-be abandoned camp of the Gravel Bandits as three figures began moving under the cover of the residual darkness of the night. Two emerged from one of the buildings serving as a barracks, while the other came from a tent set up by one of several dead campfires. They made their way to the edge of the camp, gathering under a tree to further leverage the cover of its shadow.

“Head to Adversity, wait for a bit, and tell the right people bandits are coming?” Slick asked, adjusting the lance strapped to her back.

“That’s the most believable route we can take.” Slough nodded, weighing the axe in his hands, “We’ll need to lend a hand, most likely too.”

“Will you be fine with that, Breanne?” Slick turned to the third of their number.

“I w- will.” the young man slightly nodded, checking his overalls for any personal belongings he wanted to bring along.

“Also make it a point to join up with Norman, Hina’s most likely with him too.” Slough attached his axe to his belt, “Hopefully they haven’t made the decision to come back here. I can’t think of anywhere else they’ve run off to if they aren’t here.”

“If they ran into my sister, they wouldn't.” Slick reassured, beginning to lead the way out of the camp.

The lumberjack silently agreed as he began to follow, Breanne trailing soon enough. The three ‘pardoned’ bandits left what had been a large chunk of their lives behind as their old leader was to wake and prepare their less-intentioned former colleagues for an outwardly simple raid.

They still were unaware of what else would be on the approach.

 

---

 

“Here. Take this. One of the best things to have happened in the last decade.” Brander nudged Violet with his arm - his one arm - before digging around in his satchel. He produced a small, wrapped slice of bread.

“What is it for?” the purple mage asked, quizzically tilting their head at the product of various condensed grains thrown into an oven.

“Breakfast. Eating. Consumption.” Brander looked particularly unamused as Violet reluctantly took the piece of bread. 

Of all things the battlemage of fire could’ve hoped that Violet was not missing in their brain’s increasingly evident preset routine on existing, it appeared that the simple act of intaking nutrients had a high chance of being lost to them. That made Brander question just exactly how Violet had seemed to live up to this point. Their social and practical skills, as far as what the last week had shown Brander, were less than ideal for individual survival. 

But nonetheless, Violet had also shown that they had the potential to not be a pushover waiting to get torn apart by predators. The biggest takeaway Brander got from the nearly fatal training session yesterday was that Violet could be considered a magical prodigy … or at least a man (woman?) with an abnormally high tolerance to using magic. Whatever Violet personally identified as- if anything, they were quite quick to learn the basics of the arcane arts in hindsight.

The fact Violet had been nearly non-stop slinging mana projectiles and using it in various other ways in Brander’s absence, until nearly signing their death warrant, served as the biggest testament to their underlying ability. Even on the way back to Adversity, Violet’s exhaustion clearly came more from their near-death experience over anything else. Brander sparsely knew anyone he could recall that wouldn’t be weak in the knees or panting like a dog after expending their usually limited mana reserves for that long.

That began to beg the question in the fire mage’s mind. Not only was there the matter of who Violet was, but also to an extent, what Violet was? Brander’s best guess was that Violet was just a particularly gifted if inexperienced reticent hermit. But even a hermit had to live life as part of some kind of community to pick up the necessary skills to live in isolation before doing so. As deduced prior, Violet didn’t have those key skills. Which again asked, what would they be then?

“This tastes good.” Violet abruptly remarked while chewing on their bread, snapping Brander out of his reflection, “Where did you procure this grain?”

“Just down the road in the morning market.” Brander answered. He raised a brow at his friend’s positive reception to plain bread, though it was much more understandable. Outside of the… Alarming possibility Violet was unfamiliar with eating as a concept , most didn’t really have developed taste palettes. The average inhabitant of the Robloxian continent usually didn’t have the means to value taste over hardline nutrition.

“I suggest we begin to acquire more bread for nutrition along our journey.” Violet said, finishing the slice. That earned a chuckle from Brander.

“Right, but it probably won’t be as ‘good’ as what you just ate. You familiar with hardtack? Brander asked, then answered himself, “Biscuits which are effectively immortal, practically never mold if you store ‘em right. But they are perpetually stale.”

“That sounds most practical. I believe it would still be in our best interests to acquire at least a degree of bread slices in addition to long-term suited rations.” Violet restated. Brander just gave a dismissive shrug in reply.

“We’ll pick up some more tomorrow then. So how’re you feeling now, stomach full?”

“Indifferent.” Violet blinked.

“... Right, up for some theoretics?” Brander retrieved his personal fire tome from his satchel.

“Ready.” Violet gave a thumbs-up. For some reason, Brander felt off-put by that gesture.

The two magi began to pace around Adversity while Brander did little more than just read off the descriptions of the various fire-based spells to be found within his spellbook. It was clear teaching was not his forte, but he severely did not have the will to go visit the town’s library to sit down and parse through other sources of information. Not while he was on his way to a ‘third strike’ as the librarian asserted after he returned the slightly damaged books in the wake of the incident yesterday, or after vividly recalling that the first time he came across Violet was after the mage had quite literally read several aisles worth of books.

At this point, it was probably just a refresher to the purple mage, and now to an extent Brander himself. At several points, after seemingly having their memory jostled by Brander’s “teaching”, Violet would make remarks and replies which most often acted to correct or clarify what the fire mage conveyed. They became the teacher, effectively.

At least the question of what they were was partially answered to some degree - Strange, oh so very strange Violet was.

 

---

 

Hina stood over Norman as the latter laid in bed, unaware of the presence of his friend looming over. The sunlight which entered the room through its sole window hit the cloaked figure rather than casting down onto her still-slumbering friend. It if had, it would’ve woken him by now. But it wasn’t what woke the thief.

It was instead a bad dream which gave start to Hina some hours ago, while it was still dark. She’d wake up, ready for another day of trying to appease Norman’s sense of adventure by tackling whatever the local guild needed done. Then as she’d try to wake him, he found his body drained of all color - of life . His pillow stained with blood trailing out of his mouth, and a downright abhorrent mess of charred flesh and bone where he’d been struck yesterday. Then right before she could make any sound in reaction, she actually woke up.

Hina wasn’t fully convinced Norman was fine after the altercation with those suspicious magi. After he had been directly hit by the purple one, or ‘Violet’ as they were called. While he appeared to be completely well and able just moments after being disoriented back then… She couldn’t confirm if there was nothing else to it. 

She felled plenty of spellcasters over the course of her career as a thief and occasional assassin, and had come to view nearly any kind of magic as analogous in a way to a normal blade. If the initial impact wouldn’t put someone down, the bleeding or whatever else, would . Poison, sickness, actual bleeding in some cases -  the list of aftereffects which she had worried Norman was afflicted with went on.

So far, none of it outwardly showed itself. She gave herself a brief period of mental respite as she saw Norman stir, the novice swordsman sitting up with his eyes still closed. She stepped back, giving him the space to get up as he stretched.

“Good morning.” Hina greeted her friend.

“Mornin…” Norman yawned, nearly falling back at how close Hina was to him when he opened his eyes, “... Well you’re up early.”

“I got a good night’s rest. Did you?”

“As best as I could, the debt I owe Sharpe’s been nagging at me since we got here… I’m surprised we haven’t run into my parents yet.” Norman scratched the back of his head, slipping into his gear.

“Slick and Slough will turn up soon enough. You don’t need to get worked up over it.” Hina spoke, quite hypocritical given her own fixation on Norman’s well-being. If the two she mentioned were here as well, that worry would probably extend to them as well.

“I hope. But then they’ll have to deal with the repercussions of what I started. Hiding or explaining that we’ve fallen in with a bunch of bandits won’t bode well with the town.” Norman exhaled, lowering his tone to but a hushed whisper in caution, “And speaking of them, we’ll probably need to go back to camp eventually.”

“We don’t need to say that, or go back ‘home’.”

“Huh?”

“We can just keep the adventurer bit going. We already have made a good amount of money from our guild ventures. We can keep going, disguise some of that money as menial payments from jobs that weren’t worth doing, and just say things weren’t worth it and you all decided to go back to your real home.” Hina suggested, “Besides, no one in the camp aside from me and your friends cared for you. I doubt anyone else would miss ‘ Spare ’ that much.”

“Well, sure… But you . You aren’t from here. We met you when we became bandits.” Norman reflected with a conflicted expression. To say that he was back in town because he failed in chasing his dreams wasn’t pretty, but it was surely better than saying how he failed.

“I guess I’m just a friend you made while adventuring. Simple as.” Hina replied, continuing quickly, “I can read and do algebra as well.”

“Uh…”

“Just in case the old folks ask if I’m a good influence.”

Norman didn’t know how to respond to that at all , nor any of its implications, so he just shrugged it off, “Alright then.”

“If you want to, we should get going for some breakfast.”

Almost conveniently, Norman felt a grumble in his stomach, “Yeah. That sounds good.”

The two set out from the inn, no one else the wiser about what they had just discussed. Stepping out into the already bustling streets, they made their way to the town’s market to get some food.

Once they got there though, they immediately found their attention drawn to a trio of quite familiar individuals running through.

 

---

 

“Alright! The militia barracks should be close by!” Slick huffed as she ran ahead, Slough and Breanne following suit.

“Ah… Slow down! Why do we need to run!?” Breanne asked with an exasperated tiredness.

“Because we need to warn the militia as soon as possible.” Slough plainly replied, only partly spent from the group’s sort of mini-marathon.

Turning corners along the dirt roads of Adversity, the three eventually came into view of the large blockhouse serving as the residency of the town militia. The vast majority of the group in question appearing to be gathered around it. From here, Slick saw a glimpse of gold between the dull silvers of the armored soldiers. With that bolstering the three’s objective, she stepped forward.

“Hey! Halt!” one guard who noticed the approach of the three non-militia turned, soon joined by a few of his comrades, “The militia is currently conducting training drills. Please submit any inquiries to actively patrolling person-”

“We need to talk to Sir Cain and Sir Abel!” Slough stated, catching up with Slick while a breathless Breanne stumbled along.

“Urgent matters, please.” Slick added.

The guardsman and his colleagues glanced at each other for a moment, before a very familiar looking woman faced Slick in particular, and asked, “What do you have to say to the Redcliff Knights?”

“There’s… A… Bandit… Attack… Incoming…” Breanne roughly spoke between harsh breaths, pounding his chest as if to get his lungs to work better.

Nodding, and feeling an uneasy pressure from the guardswoman staring at her, Slick added, “We’re adventurers traveling around the area, and saw a large number of them headed to Adversity.”

The militia exchanged a few glances again, before they wordlessly dispersed deeper into the crowd composed of their fellows towards their Redcliff Advisors. All of them except the woman who kept her gaze on Slick, face unreadable to anyone but the lancer.

After a moment of silence, the guardswoman spoke with a clearly pained voice, “It’s been a while.”

“I know.” Slick mumbled, “I’m sorry, sister.”

“Mom and dad still miss you.” Slick’s sister, Sharpe , continued.

“I’ll visit once everything’s sorted out. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better.” Sharpe let her professionalism slip for a moment, embracing her sister despite the circumstances of her reappearance in the town.

The brief reunion was cut short as Cain and Abel moved through the crowd of Adversity’s militia to convene with the three trying to warn them. Sharpe pulled away from her hug and stepped back, giving the knights space to talk to, as far as they knew, proper adventurers.

“Slick, Slough. Pleasant to see you two again.” Cain lifted a gauntlet to his heart, and a lagging Abel did the same. The gesture seemed to surprise a few of the militia nearby.

“Where are the bandits marching from? Did any of you estimate what may be their number?” Abel asked. Gone was most of his naivety, replaced with a sternness more befitting of Cain. It could still be seen he had a few other motives in wanting to know more about the enemy.

“We just saw a lot of them to the east. Maybe… Forty of them, give or take. We couldn’t spend long observing or else they’d notice and chase us down.” Slough pinched his chin, using the knowledge he already had about his former affiliation to try and clue in the knights.

“Understood. Abel, take a few of the militia and move to confirm the situation. Get those trained with shields to accompany you, and form a phalanx.” Cain ordered as his younger partner moved to gather troops to aid him, “Everyone! Adversity may be marched upon by a large hostile force soon! Enforce an immediate stay-in order for all non-militia personnel!” the knight continued.

Unquestioning, those who had not joined Abel quickly ensured they were fully geared-up and dispersed throughout the settlement to warn the citizenry of the possible threat. Only Cain, Sharpe, Slick, Slough and Breanne were soon left standing in front of the militia barracks. The knight turned to the remaining guardswoman, tone commanding.

“Sergeant Sharpe, is there a problem?” the Redcliff Knight inquired while checking over himself for his weapons.

“No sir.” Sharpe swiftly replied, “However, I request permission to briefly delay my current assignment so that I may have a word with my sister.”

Cain’s eyes trailed from Sharpe to Slick, putting the pieces together. A variety of questions he knew to better save for later, he decided to appease the guardswoman’s request in another order, “Then your task is now to ensure her and her compatriots remain safe until the situation has passed. Dismissed.”

Cain ran off to aid in preparing a defense, leaving Sharpe alone with the three, unbeknownst to her, former bandits.

“Inside. Now.” Sharpe pointed to the militia barracks, moving to open the front door to the blockhouse. 

Slick and her fellows readily obliged, a bit uneasy at the militia woman’s much sterner demeanor. Before any of them could say something, Sharpe continued with another order as she drew her lance from her back.

“Stay inside. Don’t think about leaving. If you get tired of standing, use the bunks in there to get some rest.” Sharpe pointed to an open door halfway through the hall.

“I’m really sorry.” Slick reiterated from earlier, stepping closer to her sister. As if understanding her movements, Sharpe set her lance to the side, wrapping her little sister in a hug tighter than before.

Slough and Breanne watched as the two continued their reunion. The latter decided to retreat into the mentioned quarters from earlier to catch his breath, while the former kept thinking to himself. While they did get the militia warned about the incoming threat, Slough remembered that Gravel wanted them to leave Adversity as a whole. Not move to defend it, which is exactly what was happening.

It was too late to go back on that now, and they didn’t know if they did enough. They would have to wait and see.

 

---

 

Gravel slowly marched down the dirt path towards Adversity. Following behind him were the entirety of all the criminals and brigands who had decided to gather under his name. Rowdy and riled up to take over Adversity, they would’ve been charging forward if it weren’t for the express orders of their leader to keep put. “Save stamina”, Gravel had used those two words as a reason which sat well for most of them. But there were still a few unsatisfied with their slow progress forward.

Using the forcibly sluggish pace he’d enforced among the bandits, Gravel continued in his attempts to rekindle the powers he’d thought he lost long ago. Uncaring for the questions and curious gazes of “his” minions, he channeled the emotions he’d long suppressed in favor of maintaining the fearsome front most knew him for. Mana and other energies, light green in color, periodically absorbed his hands and manifested in other forms close to his body. Growing more intense every time he tried to call upon this dormant power.

“Oi oi! Boss’ a wizard!” a bandit who’d taken notice cried out.

“Aw hell yeah! Adversity’s ours lads!” another remarked, hands raised in the air, “Those weaklings won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“It’s survival of the fittest out here, and damn, we’ll be feasting like royalty.” one of the bandits closest to Gravel added.

Then, all chatter ceased as Gravel spoke with a clear irritation in his tone, “Shut it.”

Nearly all of the bandits obeyed as the man ordered that, with the only sound filling the air being the crunch of boots and distinct crackle of Gravel’s magic. He cursed as he noticed the far more volatile form his mana was now taking, trying to calm his nerves down enough to aptly stabilize how it manifested. The more violent applications of his arcane ability would best be saved for Mortivant. For the rest of the march until the natural wall surrounding their target came into view, Gravel steadily progressed in relearning his power.

Once the group had drawn near to their target, Gravel stopped just shy of the tunnel which served as one of the entrances to the town. He saw on the other side, a contingent of guardsmen accompanied by a Redcliff Knight were formed up. A small but reluctant smile found its way onto his face. The respectable few he conversed with the previous night had done their part and had clearly warned of the bandits' approach. But rather than organizing an evacuation, they’d taken the route of stagnant defense he hoped they wouldn’t have.

Gritting his teeth, knowing what would happen once Mortivant and his forces “joined” the bandits in their assault on Adversity, Gravel stilled as a now-persistent layer of green mana resonated from his free hand. Holding his shovel in the other, he gazed through the tunnel at the town ahead, trying to think of what else he could do to buy them more time. 

Minutes passed as he idled and he heard the bandits behind him getting restless. They were no professional army, but they were raring to go for a fight. “Overconfidence”, that was how to describe them in one word. If another had to be chosen, it would be “impatient”.

“... Form ranks.” Gravel plainly ordered. The bandits seemed to break away from acting like barking dogs on a thin leash, looking at each other and at Gravel like the man was speaking in foreign tongue.

Silence ensued, as well as a degree of annoyance and underlying relief from Gravel, “Get into organized groups.”

The bandits heeded the call and followed the order, disastrously. They largely remained the same as they were before - a garbled mess of bodies waiting to charge the defensive line ahead. Except now they were somewhat more densely packed. A few of the brighter or sensible individuals, like a few archers in the back, got the memo. But the vast majority of crude melee-weapon bearing grunts and brigands just stood shoulder-to-shoulder in broken lines.

At least they were being occupied. Which meant more time for Gravel to figure out how to further tip the scales in Adversity’s favor, and more importantly…

More time on how to kill Mortivant.

 

---

 

Far off from Adversity, and far from the contingent of bandits which marched with Gravel in their soon-to-be attempted takeover of the town, Mortivant took slow strides as an absolute legion of his “creations” followed. Various walking, living corpses trailed behind the Necromancer in an uncanny rigid and organized matter. Their physical states reflecting how long they’d been dead for - Some just barely rotted, while others little more than skeletons bounded by the absolute minimum of tendons and muscle. But they were all similar in an absolute lack of individual will , the minds and souls of these people long since passed on.

As the Necromancer drew closer to the town and with a few simple waves of his hand, the undead army seemed to part like a sea as they dragged their shambling selves into the surrounding trees, roads and forests. They moved to encircle the entire town before the actual battle for it would begin. If there would be one… The sheer disposition of unliving troops would more than likely just be able to simply drown whatever resistance Mortivant faced in sheer numbers.

Though, that’s if they could remain coordinated enough to do so. At one point, Mortivant grit his teeth as if experiencing a headache or other pain, coinciding with some of the undead failing to keep up.

“My masters, grant me the strength to see to it your will be done!” the Mortivant chanted as he raised his staff to the air while walking. The purple orb within the pincers of its head resonated, as energy exerted like rejuvenating mist before seeping into the very body of the Necromancer.

The undead straightened out once again, continuing to move and following their master’s order. It seemed they were all bound to Mortivant, and it was his own energies continuously fueling their animation. Even with favor from the higher powers he served, it was abundantly clear prolonged maintenance of this legion would even push Mortivant to his limits.

But the Necromancer was fully confident that would not matter. For in the face of what he knew was just a fraction of a fraction of the actual capabilities of his masters, a simple isolated town would not stand in either his or their way. Not with any amount of bodies or steel…

Not even if it had mages of its own, he thought.

Chapter 10: Potential

The rambunctious clamor and cheer of the Gravel Bandits echoed through the stoney maw to Adversity they charged through as they began their attempted takeover of the town. Their various crude, rusty and aged weapons clashed with the shields and armor of the phalanx of militia guards who were set to meet their attack. Sparks flew with each ‘ clang ’ and ‘ crash ’ of steel-on-steel, and occasionally screams and yelps over battle cries when a blade found purchase in an opponent’s flesh rather than protective gear. Only a few dozen, if heavily armored guards, were present to push back against the assault. But under the command of a pair of Redcliff Knights dressed in bold yet dull golden armor, they vigorously rose to the challenge.

Gravel stood back as ‘his’ troops rushed in, only doing so much as throwing themselves into a meat grinder when their more experienced foes eventually found openings to lash out before resuming in their ‘turtling’ maneuvers. They had come to believe that he was sitting back to ‘charge up’. Get his magic flowing to really put a sock to the blokes in Adversity who thought they could stand against them. Thus, they continued their downright absurd human wave tactics, attempting to soften up their enemies before their boss barged in to ‘kick things off’.

But Gravel didn’t seem intent on doing so.

“Boss! The guys upfront are takin’ so much of a beatin’ I’m getting clear sightlines. Ya gotta do something!” an impatient archer mumbled.

That remark earned him the odd glare of those who hadn’t joined in on the charge. However, those looks eventually tracked to Gravel, realizing how much of nothing he was doing right now.

“Give me time.” Gravel grumbled, greenish mana and other energies consistently coating his hands up to his forearms. He took heavy breaths while continuing to remain idle in the backlines, his efforts evident. 

“We’re running out of it though- Especially if those two golden-boys behind the tin-men do something!” a girl hefting a crossbow called out. 

Everyone else sans Gravel seemed to collectively gulp or shudder at that fact. Like their leader, the bandits saw the two Redcliff Knights right behind the militia phalanx. The high-valued cards in the hands of both sides were simply just biding their time. Waiting for when to be played, to push forward or push back .

It seemed the latter would be the case as the absolute wave of bandits began to pour out of the front of the tunnel they were trying to rush through. The militia shield formation slowly advanced, shields unwilling to buckle as they enabled their wielders to bear the brunt of a sea of savage attacks and blows, then retaliate with their own. The forms of a few of the fallen bandits were briefly passed over by the guards as they diligently watched their steps. One small trip would lead to a gap in their dam, and the flood they held back would just pour through as a result.

Trailing behind them were the two knights organizing the defense. One wielded a Redcliff-made great-spear, while the other was using one clearly just procured from the militia armories. They struck like fishers or huntsmen against their targets, peeking above the formation of guards to thrust and poke their lances at the slowly retreating bandits. More and more of the brigands and criminals fell, the strikes landed on them by the knights condemning them to lay idly by while the larger-than-life attack by their fellows was slowly and apparently crushed.

But once the militia formation began to make headway, that was when Gravel sprung in. As the retreating bandits parted to give way to a clearer look at the militia guardsmen, Gravel stomped forth with green mana flaring from his hands and encasing his shovel. The amped tool clashed against the shields and armor of Adversity’s militia, and unlike the weapons of the other bandits, it practically cleaved through the plate and steel with a guttural mix of metallic clangs and scratches. 

“ Be-gone !” Gravel’s voice boomed through the tunnel as the first and only layer of shield-guards was unceremoniously crumpled like wet paper after a few of his powered strikes.

The pair of Redcliff soldiers who had commanded over the militia force stepped forward with their weapons raised, attempting to simultaneously drag the wounded militia in their reach back. The only thing preventing the downed troops seemed to be Gravel’s own order, one of his hands signaling for the bandits to stay back. As the scattered militia retreated, the two Redcliff Knights plainly nodded at each other.

“Behead the serpent.” the knight with a grey pauldron muttered, wielding his lance in one hand while drawing a steel blade in the other.

“And the body shall follow.” the great-spear wielding knight continued as he lightly adjusted his stance, before going for a jab.

Gravel engaged the two knights in a sudden, abrupt and vicious melee. The two professional knights were already leagues above the guardsmen he had felled moments ago, parrying and withstanding his amped shovel more than the others had on that first surprise strike. Then retaliating in near-equal measure.

The one with the great-spear was cautious yet calculated, seeming to take every moment that Gravel didn’t focus on him as an opportunity to counter. While the one dual-wielding a lance and sword constantly pressed forth ever boldly. Gravel noticed that their fight increasingly progressed into the tunnel - thus buying his forces more ground - but he cursed as he noticed what the latter of the two knights did. Sidestepping deliberately, letting himself brush the tunnel walls as he circled around…

He flanked him . 

Surrounded on both ends of the tunnel, both exits , Gravel began to hustle more and more to answer attacks on both fronts. The great-spear knight served as a sort of trap that Gravel was trying to be pushed towards by the dual-wielding knight and his frankly erratic method of attack. Though, even as Gravel began to receive wounds that were far more than just superficial, he persisted. He fought .

Green mana faintly began to course from his hands to areas in his body where he had been the most struck. While Gravel kept fighting, those wounds began to heal. As much as he felt himself being spent of all energy internally, externally was a whole different situation. Through heavy and rapid breaths - His attacks had more power behind them, he moved and reacted harder, and he was just better .

“ Augmentation - Keep pressing until he caves!” the great-spear wielding knight called out as he tried to go for a thrust, only for Gravel’s shovel to practically slap away the lance into the roof of the tunnel.

The other knight cheered an affirmative battle-cry as he thrust forth with his spear, then tried to follow up with a slash from his sword after successfully baiting Gravel with the first weapon. The bandit warlord took a slash to his right shoulder, but what would’ve been a deep gash was but a semi-shallow cut that already began to fold over itself. Even so, the dual-wielding knight kept trying to press his assault.

The great-spear knight charged forward again, trying to skewer Gravel in the back. Seemingly anticipating the attack, Gravel stepped to the side as the polearm thrust past and under his free arm, then swung his arm down to catch the spear. The knight was briefly stunned, but was rudely struck out of his stupor as the convex side of Gravel’s augmented shovel made impact with his chestplate.

“Shit! Cain!” the dual-wielding knight called out as he hefted his spear up like a javelin before hurling it at Gravel. The sharp stick of a weapon found itself wedged in the walls of the tunnel as it failed to fly true, but allotted the sword fairing knight a degree of enhanced mobility.

Gravel focused his attention on the remaining able knight, who began to somehow move and attack with even more speed and power after being reduced to just his sword. He could see why- Trying to now dual-wield the great-spear and his own shovel was proving more trouble than it was worth. Parrying a particularly rapid sword swing, he threw the spear behind him, closer to the knight he’d downed.

And closer to him Gravel found himself stepping. His opponent was relentless, the golden knight practically dancing as his sword swung, thrust and struck against Gravel and his shovel. He was being forced out of the tunnel, closer to Adversity… But away from the bandits. He held no confidence in the abilities of his subordinates, their lack of training only giving way to fatal overconfidence if they attempted to meet this knight’s blade in his place.

Good . He thought. But he could not fall now and let them follow so soon. Further stalling out the fight until his real enemy arrived, Gravel’s limbs flared with an even deeper green mana as he fought.

 

---

 

Cain’s world reeled around him as his armored form tumbled across the ground. The urge to hurl surfaced from within his chest as he wheezed, the shovel of that bandit warlord not so much as giving it a nasty dent in the plate, but clearly impacting the flesh and bone of the man behind it. He spotted his spear lying just a few feet in front of him, but each attempt he made at trying to reach for it flaring his pain even more.

Not the worst. The knight thought, ensuring his helmet’s visor was still secure. Trying to prop himself up on a knee, a sudden and violent cough painted part of the interior of his visor with his own blood, the lot of it dripping out from the few seams and gaps in the headgear. Lurching forward, Cain dove for his spear, but it was kicked from out of his reach as Gravel defended himself from Abel.

Cain’s younger counterpart, for his naivety, occasional immaturity among other irks the older knight had with him, wasn’t backing down. Between the determination placed between each individual stroke of Abel’s blade, or his deliberate hustling out of his enemy’s range or into it for a parry followed by a counter, he acted like the heroes' bards would sing songs of or children would hear about to make themselves feel happy. The heroes that Cain could vividly recall Abel wanted to be like some long ways ago before they’d even been knighted.

Cain didn’t know if Abel could register it, but damn. He was already living the dream, if with a lot more riding at stake. Seemingly ignored by Gravel, whether it be due to his clearly wounded state or the fact Abel wouldn’t give the bandit a chance to breathe, Cain could only figuratively cheer on from the sidelines.

“ No- !” Cain heard Abel yell in his swirling vision, spotting a messy blob of gold crash into what he deduced was a bandit, before a wave of crimson sliced through the air.

It took him a few extra seconds until he realized that the bandit had tried to charge him , and those who weren’t attempting to claim his head had begun to pour into Adversity proper. Abel’s focus began to shift from Gravel to all of the brigands and criminals rushing to pillage from the village behind them. His blade cleaved through them like a hot knife through butter, those attempting to counter only staving off the inevitable as Abel’s increasingly reckless movements reflected the sheer violent determination he had to protect the town.

It made sense, seeing that Pela, his sister, was among the folk there… Oh no.

Cain forced himself to stand as he drew his secondary short sword, the adrenaline and other… Energies in his body began to suppress the pains he felt from Gravel’s strike and enabled him to fight once again. Even wounded, his movements proved too much for what bandits passed him as they fell like flies, but the vast majority instead circumvented him entirely by just running a different way.

Eventually the only bandits left who had yet to charge in where the archers, reluctant to fire lest they open themselves up to a charge from the battle-worn Abel. A hand from Gravel told them to stay put, as Cain and Abel readjusted themselves to face him.

“Now you tell them to hold off? This some sick game to you!? If any of your minions so much as lays a finger on my sister…” Abel seethed, the grip on his sword whitening his knuckles from behind his gauntlets.

“They won’t get far.” Gravel plainly spoke, his voice low as he stared the knight down.

“They shouldn’t have gotten past the tunnel, that was too far. Cain, any bones broken?” Abel glanced at his comrade.

“Nothing that’ll get in the way of me swinging a sword.” Cain replied with a gruff cough, raising his visor up so slightly, he spat a gob of blood to the ground.

Just as the two Knights of Redcliff were about the charge, they noticed Gravel turning his vision elsewhere. It was to the entrance tunnel, where they saw what appeared to be a disheveled, dark-robed man with a… staff of sorts? Most of his face - bar a boney grin - was concealed by the thick hood thrown over his head.

“I applaud you, Gaia . Your forward element has already managed to breach the town! I had my troops on standby, but it seems they’ll be doing the cleanup!” the man clapped, planting his staff in the ground.

“Tch… My sincerest gratitude, Mortivant.” Gravel spat, noticing that the bowmen of his bandits were still just idling in the tunnel, ill-eased by the man speaking in front of them and… The army of undead which was just barely a few meters behind.

“Now, if you may step aside, I may add these two particularly wonderful warriors to my masters’ ranks. It should speed up the process of taking this town ten-fold!” dark purple and pink mana began to surround Mortivant’s hands, the army of undead beginning to take slow steps forward.

“No.” Gravel spoke, eyes narrowing as the mana encompassing his limbs seemed to flare. He lifted a hand towards Cain, and despite the knight near flinching in reaction… He seemed to further heal .

“... Hm. Not a surprise, you’d attempt to rebel now of all times.” Mortivant smirked, producing the Inviere from beneath his robes, “Might I remind you what-”

Gravel threw a small spark of magic towards the ground, flinging past Mortivant. The shock startled the bandits behind, one of the more trigger-happy among them accidentally discharging their crossbow… 

And its bolt finding itself embedded through Mortivant’s chest. Hustling forth, Gravel crashed into the Necromancer with near-lightning speed as he ripped the tome from the decrepit man’s hands. The dark mage retaliated with a sudden outburst of his own magic, sending Gravel back. Ripping the bolt from his form, he turned to the set of bandits wedged between him and his undead army, and raised his hands towards them.

The mana swirling in his hands shot out, piercing into each of the unfortunate men and women, before tearing what seemed to be their souls from their bodies. The faint, ethereal forms of each individual were crunched and condensed, absorbed into Mortivant’s own self as the energies were used to heal him. As for the now ownerless husks… They were little more than that. Just more numbers to Mortivant’s army.

“You… Should not have done that.” Mortivant cackled, but then realized that his sole leverage point against Gravel, the Inviere , was no longer in his possession.

“And you should not have crossed me on that terrible day. My mistake of trusting you shall be rectified, here and now .” Gravel spoke, holding his shovel in one hand and tome in the other. His mana resonated more intensely than ever, his normally red eyes exerting a faint green.

Mortivant plainly scoffed as he took hold of his staff, and began to chant in a strange tongue as the undead behind him moved forward. Abel took hold of Cain’s dropped great-spear nearby, and tossed it to his older counterpart.

“So… This guy… Is it really him ?” the younger knight whispered with near-reverence, “ The Symbol of Life ?”

“Only one of the four champions of eld held truly an inconclusive answer as to his whereabouts.” Cain spoke, catching his lance and lightly flourishing it.

Gravel seemed to pick up on their conversation, and swiftly concluded it by adding a reply of his own, “And may today be when that answer is written, once he regains the favor of the divine mothers Idunn and Hel.”

The three men stood side-by-side as they faced the greater enemy laid before them. Despite what Adversity was going through now… They could only hope to spare it an even worse fate.

 

---

 

“What the hell’s going on outside..?” Norman mumbled as he peered through one of the windows in Adversity’s library. He, Hina, and numerous others… Including the two magi they’d made enemies of prior, had been herded up like sheep by patrolling militia, who were now hustling to-and-fro.

“Nothing good.” Hina squinted as what was very much a member of the Gravel bandits- Or several of them rather, stampeded through the street and took down a few unaware militia guards.

Several short moments later, the doors to the library were kicked and hacked open by a man waving an axe around, “Empty yer purses an’ pockets- Whelps!”

Initially, no one said or did anything. However, Hina slowly stepped towards the man, Norman in tow. The brigand recognized the trailing swordsman first, making several remarks heavily using the nickname ‘ Spare ’, before being unceremoniously gutted by Hina. The… Assassin , as Brander deemed her for a lack of a better word, calmly sheathed her blades after the fact.

“We’re leaving.” she glared at Norman.

“And these people? The fact that… Guy broke in shows the militia won’t be able to handle everything on their own.” Norman shook his head, gesturing at the others gathered in the library. Mostly civilians.

“... You. I’ll keep you safe.” Hina’s hands were still around the grips of both her short swords.

“ We need to keep them safe.” Norman reaffirmed. The little shadow in front of him seemed almost dejected, but nodded with a resolved expression.

“Follow the boy’s words. They’ll do us all good if the able among us chip in to the defense effort.” a voice spoke from the front of the crowd in the library. It was Brander, himself poised to draw his own blade.

“That’s what my intent is.” Hina stated, leering at the battlemage of flame’s purple companion, “Watch where you or Violet cast.”

“I shall.” Violet spoke neutrally, to the subtle chagrin of the assassin.

“Ready for some live-fire practice, eh?” Brander elbow-jabbed Violet, who replied with a plain nod.

“Hm. I suppose that means you two will be acting outside the library.” Hina spoke.

Brander chuckled and stepped forward alongside Violet as they moved to do that. Hina stepped slightly in Violet’s way, rudely bumping into them before receiving a reprimanding glare from Norman.

“We’ll keep this place secure. I’m sure the militia will appreciate a few mages assisting.” Norman called out. Brander responded with a two-fingered salute, setting off.

Brander and Violet began to sweep through wherever their legs would allow them, utilizing their arcane ability in the defense of the town. All around bandits seemed to be assaulting the militia men and women attempting to keep the town secure. Some even began to break into homes, and the most unfortunate of Adversity’s citizens already lay unmoving and bloodied. 

Upon sight of the two magi, especially with their magic at play, most of the raiders seemed to turn tail and run. The more violent and boisterous however, attempted on their lives. Whereas those who gunned for Brander swiftly learned a deadly lesson in attacking a Redcliff veteran, a much more varied outcome awaited the ones trying to slay Violet.

The relatively inexperienced mage, at least when it came to spells they could cast on demand, was incredibly vulnerable. If a ranged mana shot didn’t incapacitate or take down an enemy, the assignment of defending themselves was typically left to Violet’s instincts. Resulting in a lot of strange, downright insane uses of their mana.

From encasing themselves in energy shields which burst to volatile effect, or unleashing barrages of augmented punches and physical strikes- Violet acted with a sense of purpose mixed in with the inherent will to survive. Brander, whenever he wasn’t dealing with an opponent of his own, watched on as the purple wanderer seemed to commit more and more feats of magic accidentality more than anything else. 

It was clear Violet was learning to a degree from whatever they did, but things they pulled off left their properly trained friend quite bewildered. It was clear as day Violet had an abundance of raw power, but as some enemies started to land petty hits, or took far too long for the mage to down… 

Brander could only hope Violet would be able to pull through when the situation called for it.

 

---

 

The attack on Adversity intensified moment by moment. Some bandits had opted to raze parts of the damn town down. Several buildings scattered through the settlement had been set ablaze by torches, targeted towards the most flammable of structures. 

It was evident the bandits attacking were growing desperate. The lack of their leader partaking in the actual raid, combined with their dwindling numbers against a numerically inferior but experientially superior foe coming to just bite them in the collective ass . If they weren’t going to claim Adversity as effectively their new hideout, they would damn sure ruin it for the people who might be left after the fact.

Nothing but the utmost violence and savagery was what the brigands greeted the meek of Adversity with, bodies of anyone involved falling left-and-right whether it be from combat between the militia and criminals or civilians caught out in the open.

Even as the militia strained themselves to push their foes back, and succeeded for the most part, they were still falling short. Scattered pockets of moving brigands who couldn’t be cornered continued their rampages. The aid of some citizens or visitors to the town who were skilled in combat or could support the defense efforts did help a bit, but did little to completely squander the persistent raiders.

But after only a lengthy few minutes, the threat of the bandits was overshadowed as a new factor entered the fight… From both of the tunnels which served as Adversity’s entrance and exit points poured in a legion of the living dead. The vast majority were just shambling corpses, but others were proper resurrected warriors wielding rusted armor and blades. The tunnel near the west-end of the village was overflowing with them, while the one to the east was briefly stifled through the efforts of some of the town’s best defenders. However, even they began to be pushed back…

Slowly, a sea of unliving bodies descended upon Adversity. The militia and whatever bandits who had realized the severity of the situation quickly fell alongside the civilians still present in the outer edges of the town. If one were to see the scene from above in a bird’s eye view, it was like a small island being overtaken by everly-increasing waves… With a dark purple beacon slowly treading through as if it was a guiding hand.

 

---

 

“Sarge! Sharpe! Get the hell outta here!” called out a distressed Keen as he ran with labored breaths towards the militia barracks. Stepping out from the blockhouse was the guardswoman in question, her face stern despite the circumstances.

“Corporal Keen- What’s happened? Do any active troops need a resupply?” Sharpe asked the young and bloodied militia corporal, who was still panting. The man shook his hands in front of him, dispelling her assumptions.

“Worse. We need to build up a sizable defensive perimeter around this area. Anywhere close to the heart of the town. A new enemy has breached Adversity’s tunnels.” Pike spoke, heaving as well. Contrary to Keen, only his spear seemed to be coated in… Someone or something’s remains.

“Wh- What?” Sharpe’s eyes widened.

“Monsters. Undead, specifically.” Pike plainly stated.

“A whole damn legion of ‘em! Messengers from the outermost units have said we already lost a good lot- And… Eurgh…” the corporal vomited.

“We did battle with them. Vast majority were unarmed, but some of them seemed to be the husks of actual warriors rather than just shamblers armed with random tools.” Pike spoke. Not necessarily nonchalant, but clearly like he was just tired as he always was.

“... H-how? There hasn’t been a proper monster sighting in all of Kypediad for a decade .” Sharpe grit her teeth, shaking away any doubts, “Alright, rally the troops and get as many civilians here as possible. I’ll be here to organize any efforts… Anything on the eastern tunnel phalanx?”

“The initial bandit force broke through, but each member retreated and their roles were overtaken by the Redcliff Knights. We don’t know what happened after that, just that they engaged with the presumed warlord leading the force.” Pike continued.

“And I don’t think they’re related to the undead… All the bandits who’re still in Adversity were as shit-scared as most of us at seeing ‘em.” Keen seemed to finally straighten himself out.

“Right, get going.” Sharpe restated. The two guardsmen saluted her, and ran back into the fray.

Meanwhile, Slick, Slough and Breanne had left the militia blockhouse. From the looks on their faces, it was evident they had overheard what the militiamen had informed their comrade about. Sharpe was about to tell them all to get back inside, but Slick stepped forward before them.

“We’re not hiding. We came here to help, and we’ll help.” Slick told her sister.

“You three don’t know what we’re up against.” Sharpe shook her head.

“I might’ve not been able enough to be admitted into the militia, but I’m sure none of them, or you , know exactly either. We’re all the same, in that sense.” Slick responded.

“We can at the very least help plan the defensive efforts.” Slough crossed his arms, peering around, “We won’t be running in blind into the enemy.”

Letting out a heavy puff, in consideration of everything that was going on at the moment, Sharpe reluctantly nodded, “I pray your blades are up to par if you need to use them.”

“We will survive.” Slick reassured her sibling, giving her one more hug. 

They quickly broke off, and began waiting for those who still remained in Adversity to gather here. Once they did, no time was wasted in fortifying the area with what little barricades and other defenses could be mustered. Eventually, there were some familiar faces among those filing towards the impromptu defense point, even as Adversity seemed to burn off in the background.

“Hina! Norman!” Slick and Slough ran up to their two friends, while Breanne stood off to the side.

“Ah… You don’t know how much I’ve missed you guys…” Norman greeted with genuine sincerity, but it quickly morphed to a sort of guilt, “And I gotta say- I’m sorry for kinda… Getting us in this mess.”

“I don’t think a little adventuring would’ve led to our town winding up as is.” Slough shook his head, “We can make it up by proving ourselves able defenders, through fighting or otherwise.”

“We’ll keep all we can safe.” Hina glanced at Norman, the girl having returned to keeping her cloak wrapped tight around herself.

“Get the civilians and unable here to safer ground. The militia barracks is the best place we can house them until this… Hopefully passes.” Slick said.

‘We already got…” Norman glanced behind him, noting the large crowd of citizens who’d followed his and Hina’s lead from the library elsewhere, “A sizable amount on our hands.”

“Get to it.” Sharpe suddenly interjected as she set up a few improvised cheval de frise barricades along the bases of a few nearby hills.

Norman was a bit surprised at Sharpe’s sudden entry, but noticed her changed disposition towards him. Frankly, it was probably due to the situation at hand, but she gave the swordsman a nearly soft gaze as she moved to handle other supplies.

“You kept your promise. But it’ll mean nothing if there’s no home for any of us to be in by the end of all of this.” Sharpe plainly stated.

“Right.” Norman’s brows furrowed. He nodded at Hina, and the two of them began to guide the civilians from the library elsewhere.

Meanwhile, Slick and Slough had noticed a particularly strange face. That violet mage they tried to rob way-back-when… Or just a week and a few days ago, at most. The spellcaster seemed to notice their gaze as they stared back, face as uncannily neutral as it was back then. But soon, it seemed to scrunch up, eyes narrowing.

“You see somethin’ weird, Violet?” what appeared to be another mage of sorts spoke, a thin mustache and some eyebrows being the only kind of hair on his head.

“... Them.” Violet pointed at Slick and Slough, “Brander, they’re the ones who tried to kill me.”

An awkward silence fell over the two pairs of individuals - of mages and former bandits - as Violet kept their finger hovering in the air for longer than it needed to be. When they inevitably let it down, Brander’s only hand slowly reached down for the hilt of his blade.

Drawing the silver sword, the battlemage of flame spoke in a plain, matter-of-fact tone, “Try anything funny, and say goodnight at either this or an instant cremation. I don’t care if you’ve changed philosophies on the value of human life since tryna’ off my pal here, so we don’t need more problems, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Slick nodded, followed by Slough. They were genuinely frightened by the mage’s upfront attitude to their actions prior.

“Aye, then good luck out there. We’ll be fighting too.” Brander nodded in reply, a serious face on as he continued, “But on another note, you’re Gravel Bandits ?”

“Formerly.” Slough sighed. Violet tilted their head to the side, while Brander gave a simple nod.

“Got any clues where your boss is, then? Dead, alive, yeah?”

“Probably alive… Fighting whatever the hell kind of monsters have come into town. Sure as heck isn’t leading the remains of the bandits that followed him here.” Slick glanced around.

“Did you go before them or somethin’?” Brander’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. We… Warned the town of everything. At least up to a bandit attack, I don’t think anyone knew about the whole undead part.” Slough answered. 

Brander’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before he nodded again. There was a modicum of respect in his expression… Maybe, “Not bad. Just watch where you’re swinging your blades and who or what’s surrounding ya’. Don’t get overwhelmed by those walking bodies ‘less you wanna join ‘em.”

“Th-They can turn us into them!?” Breanne shot up, entering the conversation.

“ Whoever’s leading ‘em can . Kypediad’s been free o’ nearly every kind of documented monster the Redcliff’s ever come across. An army of zombies doesn’t pop up outta nowhere naturally.” Brander set his sword over his shoulder, “So don’t go dying or else you’ll be bolsterin’ the enemy force.”

That piece of information had… Worrying connotations given the earlier conversation between Sharpe and a few other members of the militia. It meant that among the rank and file of the undead foe could be the unfortunate of Adversity who were swept up by them. Or even former friends and comrades… Though in the case of the former Gravel Bandits, that at best could be translated to “pricks of varying degrees”. It would still be a very strange thing to consider.

Perhaps a rough half-hour passed for when the remaining militia forces and their third party allies within Adversity could ferry the meek citizenry to safer ground. Eventually, undead began to rear corners and appear over the horizon as they shambled forward. They were in legion , with the fact only exacerbated by the fact that Adversity was technically walled-off from the outside world. The people who had set up here began to engage in combat with their living dead foes.

Militia armed with spears and bows began to stab and lob arrows into the seemingly endless crowd of zombies. Walking corpses falling only for more to replace them. Some of the “higher-end” undead, dressed in proper armor and wielding actual weapons sprung in soon after. Their higher motor function enabled them to actually tussle with the guardsmen, which combined with their unnatural nature, resulted in them being able to take as much punishment as they were dishing out.

Among those warrior-class husks were clearly several members of the militia, emotionless in their automated maneuver as they assaulted their former comrades. Pike ran through a converted swordswoman as Keen hacked away at a halberdier who’s stiffened arms struggled to labor his own weapon. Sharpe nearly faltered as she dispatched of one zombie only to be charged by one of the recruits she recognized, but was saved by the timely and violent intervention by her sister.

Meanwhile, Slough and Breanne alongside others faced the automated remains of the Gravel Bandits in conjunction with the more able dead of Adversity brandishing crude weapons. The latter found himself far too often getting too close with his former “friends”, the rusty nature of Breanne’s blades forcing him to rapidly shank whoever approached until he eventually retreated to get something better. The former on the other hand, was demonstrating as much strength as he was strategy. Taking on the impromptu role of a commanding officer, Slough helped guide and advise what militia there was on this front while practically dismembering his foes with a few hefty axe swings.

Norman and Hina acted in a rough sync, the former always finding the enemies before him felled thanks to assistance from the latter. Whenever Norman neared a state of being overwhelmed, Hina sprung like a shadowy guardian angel as she nimbly twisted and slashed through the undead like a buzzsaw. Her capabilities for violence were on full display as she intentionally took her fights closer to what buildings were near - using the sides and walls as springboards to set her up for more elaborate actions while Norman kept hacking and slashing.

Brander and Violet were, for the time being, stuck in the backlines with the militia archers. They lobbed blasts of magic - Fire in Brander’s case, and that indescribable energy Violet seemed to be in-tune with. Whether corpses burned under proper flame or imitation of it, the two were by far the best assets present in the defensive perimeter as they kept the front they held secure. 

But even a few minutes into the defense did the lines surrounding the fortified sector of Adversity begin to falter. It was like a cage with a few birds unable to squeeze through the gaps of its bars, constantly condensing and caving in on itself as it stood to crush whatever was within. The undead began to slowly pick off the less careful of those making up the defensive perimeter, adding them to their number after the fact. Usually indicated by a bolt of purple lightning, striking down from the near pitch-black clouds in the starkly grey skies above.

“They’re breaking through!” Keen yelled as a cleaving slash of his longsword cleanly decapitated three corpses, only for a skeletal warrior to bash him away with its shield. He recovered and began combat again, but found himself and his allies on the backpedal.

“Alright, Violet! Time to dive into the fireworks!” Brander spoke as he casted off an enormous torrent of flame, which originally started a sigil-based fireball before invoking words caused it to turn into a practical fire-tornado. The battlemage drew his silver sword with a fiery edge, immediately getting to work hacking forth while almost everyone else tried to keep themselves dug in. The zombies caught in the way of the initial burst of fire were just gone .

Violet however decided to keep in the backlines, just watching their friend rush in. At first, they seemed dumbfounded by Brander’s decision- That was, until they noticed just what he was doing. Each felled corpse seamlessly disintegrated into ashes as the flaming edge of his sword cut off the un-life of the shambling bodies. Even with only one, occupied arm, Brander was near single-handedly dealing with much of the undead threat.

But that wouldn’t be enough. The battlemage of fire could handle one front, maybe, but the other portions of the defensive perimeter staffed by the militia were buckling swiftly. Directing their attention elsewhere, Violet began to keep up their role as some kind of magical artillery as they channeled more and more power into each individual blast. The corpses who marched onward practically eviscerated now upon impact, but even so, more just took their place. If anything, the fact they weren’t leaving bodies made it easier for them to advance.

That wasn’t good. It didn’t sit well with anyone that the defense was just an exercise in futility. But between the militiamen, armed civilians and mages, it was the purple one of the third who really did not want to settle.

Violet’s rapidly developed emotions and instincts began to take over again. The spells they casted grew increasingly volatile. Focused solely on power and destruction, they did away with droves upon droves of undead to some effect. But it was just a tiny push-back against the enemy surrounding them. They tried to move elsewhere, reinforce the other fronts, and all they reaped was that the areas they’d previously helped clear had been replenished tenfold with new zombies. On occasion, a face once fighting with Violet now against them.

Nearly stumbling as they hustled back to their prior position, Violet watched as their friend and others they’d interacted with began to slowly succumb to the horde. Brander’s flames, as bright as they were, slowly began to be snuffed by the more and more bodies piling to kill him. The former Gravel Bandits, for whatever wrongdoings they might’ve had against Violet, tried their damn hardest to do what they were doing and protect the innocent in all this. The militia, just doing their job in the face of armageddon… It was all going to be for nothing.

It wasn’t so much the imposing end which Violet faced that now weighed heavily upon them - But what was going on around. The effort, the struggle, the fight. They didn’t want it to be for nothing. They wouldn’t fail-

“Get off me!” Brander could be heard roaring as a coordinated unit of undead disarmed him, before being purged in a stream of raging flame. He was made just unaware of his surroundings long enough for a reanimated militiaman to come up, and hack at his side with an axe.

Violet’s eyes widened once the strike audibly connected, and an even more violent series of fire blasts and spells casted where Brander was. They could barely move to assist when more cries of those nearby sounded out - Breanne had just taken a spear to the chest, and Slough, an arrow to the knee while trying to drag the former to safety.

“Archers!.. Some of them can use bows!” Slough called out as he grumbled in pain, still trying to drag the rapidly limping Breanne to safety. A few militia archers assisted, even as he collapsed onto the ground. They attempted to pinpoint and deal with whatever husks cradled arrow and bolt weapons, but the sea of zombies proved a thick covering blanket.

“No… No! Get rid- That won’t work… Destroy, kill- ” Violet poised their arms to where Slough might’ve been shot from, trying to begin an incantation spell. The words seemed lost on their tongue to describe what they wanted to do, even if the intent was clear among them, “ Die, die, die ! All of you corpses, just die !”

A shot cracking like genuine thunder sounded off as a thin, unassuming bolt pierced through the horde of undead. Moments later, a pale blue explosion sounded off deep in the crowd, tossing undead and their gear about and stunning the lead most shamblers. Violet’s anger and resistant temperament to losing manifested in their magic, the mage surrendered entirely to their instincts and emotions.

Against a foe like the undead, there was practically no contest. Violet continued to let loose abnormally powerful shots and projectiles towards the horde in any direction they could see. Each primed with increasingly varied characteristics to aid in causing as many casualties as possible. Unbeknownst to them, a toll was beginning to be taken on their body as fatigue tried to set in.

Even as they slowly tired, Violet continued to lash out. They narrowly prevented Brander from getting struck once again, buying the fire mage some time and awareness to get to safer ground. A horde surrounding Slick, Sharpe, Hina and Norman was split thin, allowing the four to break out and reposition to weaker parts of the defense.

Still, it didn’t seem to be enough, but Violet’s thoughts were quickly drawn to grunts and shouts off in the distance.

Undead seemingly parted to give way to a trio of fleeing combatants. Among them, the Redcliff Knights Sir Abel and Sir Cain, as well as… Gravel himself. The leader of the bandits who tried to kill Violet, now here defending Adversity with a rusty shovel and spellbook in hand.

“This isn’t good. We haven’t even gotten him winded.” Gravel grumbled, a wave of his hand forming a symbol under himself. A brief green glow surrounded both him and the Redcliff Knights, seemingly reinvigorating them. But by their stances and postures, that wasn’t their first boost.

“Adversity… It’s… It’s lost.” Abel looked around, his helmet thrown off at some point, his young yet ragged, disheveled and tired expression staring at the scores of undead.

“You won’t leave this place alive!” barked Cain, tightly gripping his great-spear while casting a flaming glare at the controller of the undead forces.

Standing in front of the three with more zombies stood idle behind him, the Necromancer which raised the legion infesting the town let a simple, cruel smile show on his boney features. Mortivant cackled, taunting the three and those who clung onto hope that they could come out on top.

“Ah… Gaia - You’re nothing but a has-been! So too are those excuses for knights you’ve sided with… I’ve seen the peak of the Kingdom of Redcliff, and raised countless beasts and armies to crush their most elite! This town is but a warm up, an exercise- No… Appetizer in what’s to come! I would’ve considered raising you and a few others as higher husks to serve my masters’ needs… But the resistance you’ve shown has just made me ever-so-slightly annoyed ! So, goodby-”

“ Enough! ” Violet yelled, casting a crackling mana blast which Gravel and the Redcliff Knights narrowly sidestepped. The ball near-instantaneously made impact with Mortivant, sending the dark mage to a knee as the hand gripping his staff threatened to outright snap it.

“Who… What..? This… This energy!” the Necromancer wheezed as he stood up. His face was briefly shocked- But devoid of fear. He wore a face of interest once he spotted Violet, “Hm… I haven’t dealt with this kind of magic in a while… And that mana signature, it’s greater than even the old legend’s!”

Gravel turned to eye Violet at Mortivant’s last words. He dedicated some of his own mana to get a rough estimate of the purple mage’s. He nearly froze upon realizing how much energy the unassuming spellcaster seemed to possess. Sharing Mortivant’s surprise, Violet was just off the charts in regards to any of the ways the former bandit warlord and apparent ancient legend knew how to scale arcane prowess.

For a moment, Gravel felt a sliver of hope spark within not only him, but nearly everyone around fending off the undead. He took a few steps back, he and the knights joining the other remaining defensive forces to reinforce their effort. As much as many of them tried, they couldn’t take their eyes off of Violet as he and Mortivant locked gazes.

“You will be a much appreciated refresher to my mana reserves.” Mortivant chuckled as one of his hands shot out, sharp purple tendrils swirling from his fingertips like before as they tried to rip Violet’s spiritual being and chew on it like a snack.

Violet then grabbed the arcane appendages as they traveled in the air, yanking on them as if trying to rip the nerves from Mortivant’s fingers. The old dark mage stumbled forward while Violet winded up an augmented uppercut, sending the former flying to the side once Violet’s fist connected with thunderous effect. Mortivant cursed, trying to invoke some counter-spell, but Violet was quicker on the draw as another mana blast shot from their hands.

Hands still held on tight to his staff, Mortivant slammed it into the ground as purple lightning bolts conducted themselves towards it. The skies above continued to darken, a sigil forming around Mortivant and above all of the remaining undead. A purple-pink gaze filled the eyes and eye sockets of the corpses, who now continued their charge on the remaining living of Adversity with nightmarish force. 

Violet briefly saw the undead tear through the remaining militiamen, overwhelming the Redcliff Knights and making a break for the blockhouse where the citizenry sheltered. Screams… Not of defiance and bravery, but of fear and terror filled the air as Violet made a mad dash away from Mortivant to try and do something . But their steps slowed as they passed… The bodies.

Much of the militia had fallen, including Sharpe, Pike and Keen. Slick’s body lay close to her sister as it was trampled, and despite their wounds having been treated to a degree, the slumped over forms of Breanne and Slough both bore deep gashes in conjunction with their prior injuries. Even the Redcliff Knights lay still, and Gravel was nowhere to be seen. The lot of them dead or out of the fight, in only a few seconds. But there was still at least one .

Brander stood at the entrance to the blockhouse, swinging his fire-imbued blade as he retaliated with a burning resolve. A figurative fire lit in his eyes as they were an all-encompassing orange. A battle-cry mixed with laughter escaped his lungs every time he lunged forward, keeping his foes away for just a little longer. Violet began to tear their way through the horde, body augmented as they stampeded like a bull trampling unknowing bystanders. If they could just get to Brander, the two of them could turn the tide and-

“ Brander !” Violet called.

The fire was gone .

Brander fell unceremoniously as his eyes dulled, ran through by a few empowered warrior undead wielding a variety of weapons. Violet stared at the sight of their friend… their first friend they’d made in this life they were trying to carve for themselves. Just dead.

A maelstrom of emotions and feelings Violet nor anyone could ever hope to describe brewed within the strange mage, their mana subconsciously resonating as a thin veil of it began to encompass their form. One of the armed undead cast aside its old weapon and picked up Brander’s now inert silver sword, slashing it right at Violet’s eyes.

The gash created drew straight from ear-to-ear horizontally. But no blood was drawn, and instead seeping through seemed to be raw mana. Pale blue like all that Violet casted, and it dripped down the mage’s face in long streams. Their eyes became the energy now bleeding from the wound, and before the undead could move to do anything else, Violet struck. They threw a haymaker towards the undead who tried to fell them with their friend’s blade.

And the skies parted .

Piercing through the dark which Mortivant had cultivated, broke down a white lightning bolt which struck Violet directly as their fist connected with the corpse. A plain and simple explosion rocked nearly the whole of Adversity, eviscerating the nearby undead… Yet leaving those still alive and those Violet knew weren’t originally part of the risen legion alive. 

“A…Amazing.” Gravel coughed, as the weight of all the corpses piled on top of him was suddenly released. Casting a healing glow over himself, he stood up and looked at Violet.

The purple mage stared ahead at the briefly stunned Mortivant, then to Gravel. They nodded, “... Care to the fallen, Gaia. As Idun and Hel have ordained. If you may, I shall shoulder the responsibility of judgment.” for a moment, it was like someone else was talking through Violet. Or more strangely, this was another part of Violet speaking.

“... Make him suffer.” Gravel’s hatred towards Mortivant manifested in a plain grumble, steadying himself with his shovel.

“A swift death in this plane does not equate to Hel swiftly writing off his soul.” Violet… smiled?

Gravel weakly chuckled with a nod, and Violet bolted forward.

Violet tackled Mortivant as the Necromancer was in the middle of genuine panic, trying to frantically raise whatever corpse he could find in his vision before it all became a blur once a flurry of strikes came from the purple mage. The armor Mortivant wore buckled and shattered under the sheer volume of physical attacks. Their shards embedding into his body underneath in an ironic twist of purpose.

“Get back!” the Necromancer shouted.

Discharging a close-range spell, Mortivant sent himself flying as he drew energy from his staff. Skidding backwards, he began shooting off instantaneously bolts of dark purple, trying to nail Violet from afar. However, the pale-blue-blur ducked and weaved under nearly every shot, retaliating with a practically perfect copy of the attack which found its mark. It only worked to stun Mortivant, but let Violet close the distance, one leap at a time.

“You- You insignificant-” Mortivant’s eyes widened as Violet practically coalesced in front of him, a roundhouse kick socking him straight in the jaw.

“Thine end is now!” Violet reoriented their same leg, before slamming it down on the opposite side of Mortivant’s head like a guillotine. 

Mortivant was sent to the ground as he finally let go of his staff, Violet quickly picking the polearm up and snapping it. Kneeling down on the old man’s chest, which seemed to threaten to plain break under Violet’s weight, the purple mage began delivering a close-range smackdown of augmented punches. Pale blue mana burned away what wretched blood the Necromancer began to spew and cough as his face was brutalized, the bones behind nearing a state of liquidation which each blow.

Mortivant’s teeth flew out, one by one. His nose caved in. One of his eyes already went blind from the sheer rage Violet exercised, combined with his rapidly tiring mana banks. Coughing up a large gob of blood, voice rasp as if one of his lungs had already collapsed, he tried to bargain.

“Wait… Wait! Please… I beg… I beg of you!”

“Do not think you can escape judgment, no matter what concoction of honeyed words you choose.” Violet delivered another punch.

Mortivant recoiled, trying to hold up his weak arms to defend himself, “Please- I was forced to… Do this!”

“ I know of all your exploits.” Violet bounded his hands together and prepared to slam down on Mortivant’s face like a hammer. High above, the now-normal clouds seemed to part to a pure blue sky.

“I… I…! I never wanted this…! Please! You must believe me!” one of Mortivant’s hands moved to his cloak, much to Violet’s… Obliviousness.

“Beg for forgiveness to those you’ve wronged in the afterlife.” Violet spoke once again, but their eyes suddenly widened.

A knife had been embedded high into Violet’s chest, a crazed smile on Mortivant’s face. But it slowly let way to one of horror as the purple mage nonchalantly snapped the Necromancer’s hand and tore the knife out of their body. The wound was nothing but more pale blue mana leaking out. 

“What… What are you..!?” Mortivant’s breath quickened as he yelled in pain. It was clear he was now genuinely fearful of Violet… Whatever they had become.

“Your comuppence.” Violet spoke with an eerily straight face, slamming a single fist into Mortivant’s face as a final grand bolt of lightning connected with their body.

Another, smaller explosion formed a dome around the two and burst in a cleansing glory, doing away with all influence that Mortivant had on the town of Adversity. The spared bodies from Violet’s initial surge of power were returned to a respectable state. The life within them still gone, but not torn nor sullied like they were left. Even the physical damage done to the town seemed to be mildly healed, to a degree.

As for the Necromancer who had caused this… Nothing was to be found. Not a shred of his robes or fragment of his armor, or the two halves of his staff. Mortivant had been utterly erased . A victorious Violet stood firm, staring up into the sky as more of that pure blue they had seen the days prior returned. 

They walked over to the militia blockhouse, where Gravel was busy at work parsing the pages of Inviere until he settled on some kind of large-scale illustration spell. The man once known as the symbol of life drew his fingers across the dirt and sand of the area in front of the barracks. Violet watched on as green mana began to resonate from the man and the runes below him, while their pale blue energies slowly diminished.

Green crackles of energy began to seep throughout the town, finding their way to deceased bodies and reinvigorating them with new life. Slowly, those who had expected to fall into an eternal slumber found themselves waking. Even those who were alive were affected, their wounds and other physical traumas washed away in a healing stream of magic.

“B-boss..?” a soft squeak sounded from around the door to the militia barracks. Hina left the building, followed by Norman.

“What the- Slick! Slough!” the swordsman’s eyes went wide as he spotted the bodies of his friends, practically falling to his knees in disbelief. The grief he was to feel quickly turned into surprise as he remained stunned once the cadavers began to shift about, regaining their color in mere moments.

Sharpe grunted as she opened her eyes, feeling aches all over. As she tried to sit up, she felt herself tackled in a death grip by her sister, “Oof! What… What happened?”

Slick refused to reply as she buried her face in the guardwoman’s chestplate, so whatever Sharpe could derive from that was… Nothing great. She looked up at Norman, and the swordsman briefly broke out of his stupor to swipe a thumb across his neck.

“ Oh… Wait- Then how?-” Sharpe was about to question, when a loud groan from Slough drew her attention.

“If there’s anything I would’ve liked to know in planning, it was that my former boss was apparently some arcane savant who could resurrect the dead.” the lumberjack rubbed his forehead. Still seemed like there were drawbacks to awakening from an intended forever-sleep.

“And I was honestly lookin’ forward to a little shuteye…” Pike yawned as he laid down. The nearby Keen stared at the sleepy man with a face of pure bewilderment.

“Dude- You weren’t gonna wake up! None of us were ! What kinda-”

“Just shut up man.” Pike mumbled, getting comfy on the hard dirt and sand. Sharpe let out a small chuckle despite the severity of everything that just transpired.

“That was certainly… An experience.” Breanne murmured as he checked his overalls. There was a hole where he was stabbed, but his flesh seemed fine.

“Aye! I haven’t had a fight like that in forever, don’t suppose you new-leaf bandits have had one like that ever?” a suddenly resurrected Brander patted the patchwork man on the shoulder, causing the latter to break into a sudden yelp.

The mage of fire turned his attention to his purple companion, watching Violet observe the effective resurrections courtesy of Gravel. A small smile broke out on the one-armed man’s face, “Heh, Violet. Ya’ must’ve given that Necromancer a beatin’. Haven’t seen one of that lot in a while.”

Violet plainly nodded, the pale blue energies which leaked out of their wounds now having faded, such spots being replaced with light scars. Though after a moment, their steps became unsteady. Violet tried to open their mouth to speak but instead found themselves just… Looking around. Like they had woken up in a strange place, after even stranger dreams.

And then before they could ask, their eyes glazed over, and they collapsed.

“Violet?” Brander walked over, kneeling down. He put a pair of fingers to Violet’s neck, under their jaw, “Nothin’… Huh.”

“They’ll live.” Gravel spoke, picking up Inviere and his shovel, “I can still pick up their mana signature. You’re a fellow magus, can’t you?”

“Hm… Yeah… But no heartbeat?” Brander raised a brow, staring at Violet’s apparently living body, despite the lack of the aforementioned beat should indicate anything other than that.

“... But still a signature. The soul carries the body’s arcane energy. Once death occurs and they’re split, the body’s just that. A body.” Gravel stepped over, and cast a brief healing spell over Violet, “For good measure, when they wake up.”

Brander returned his fingers to where they were, nothing but a flatline if there was anything to begin with, “... Hm. Interesting.”

“Take them inside the barracks, we have a few free beds.” Sharpe spoke, Slick still clinging onto her like glue.

“Wouldn’t some of our comrades need them more than ever?” Keen stretched in a bid to shake off the rigor mortis which tried to introduce itself to him, “Case in point, Pike.”

The militiaman in question was still sleeping on the dirt road. Sharp let out another huff, deciding to drag him elsewhere, “He won’t mind.”

Brander heaved Violet up, joined by Gravel. They noticed that while Violet seemed to be some degree of unconscious, their eyes were still open. Gravel kept whatever he was thinking to himself, while Brander let out a sigh at what had happened to the fella meant to be their long-term companion on their journeys ahead.

“Just what exactly are you, Violet?” Brander parrotted what he’d thought and said in past days. Still, not much of an answer even now.

 

---

 

The dark void which surrounded Violet as their mind stirred was a harsh jolt to the purple mage. They clutched their head as if going through a headache, glancing around the vast nothing surrounding them. Everything was pitch black, but they could easily make out their own form. In the distance, something… Glowed.

Violet took uneasy steps, the areas where they’d been slashed and wounded in battle flaring with pain in spite of them appearing as faded scars. The feeling intensified as they were drawn to where the source of light was, a shock to their system sent as it finally came into view. A blurry orb of sorts… Constantly melding into various other shapes: Typically, the silhouette of various people. 

Normal people, a farmer, librarian and others - The citizens of Adversity . 

A series of unassuming individuals armed with various weapons, then a few armored - The former Gravel Bandits and Adversity Militia . 

The form of a mage bathed in flame, an arm missing - Brander, his sword high and heat of fire falling upon Violet’s skin . 

Then, more followed as Violet drew closer. A sense of familiarity still remained, but quickly dissipated as more appeared.

A pair of more ornate knights stood behind them a practical titan of an individual dressed in so much armor it was impossible to tell who was underneath - Sir Can and Sir Abel of the Redcliff Knights, and their presumed ruler . 

A partially armored, roughed-up swordfighter with a trail following their weapon - Some participant in a bloodsport, figurative sand flying around their skidding, armored feet .

A woman who seemed to be dressed in layers of thick clothing whilst holding a spellbook, a skeleton in foreign wear wielding a warhammer in her defense - Another Necromancer? But one could feel the chill radiating from her .

Another set of armored knights, similar to the melding blobs which stood for those of Redcliff, but sleeker. One of them kneeling, seemingly hunched over in pain, whilst the other seemed to levitate in the air, wings sprouting from their back - Predators of the sky… Perhaps .

When Violet was but a few meters away from the orb of energy, it morphed into even clearer forms.

A disheveled man cradling a tome as he held onto a shovel dug into the ground, the bodies of two women dressed in a nature-derived dress and darkened cloak lifting him in a close embrace - … Gravel, and the goddesses he answered to .

An armored warrior with a large, horned helmet hefting a great-scythe. The same fire which Violet felt from Brander’s replica emanated too from this new figure, and the two who stood behind him. One a male soldier, the other a female blacksmith. No one came to Gravel’s mind, but they presumed they were similar to Gravel, those other figures their patron deities.

Another soldier of sorts… But far more distant. A large brimmed hat prevented any clear-cut features from forming on their face. A strange sheathed sword gripped in one hand and a tiny dish was seated on some of their fingers. Behind them were two similarly clad individuals, their backs turned to one another in the formation of some kind of trifecta.

Then the last, the clear-cut image of a king , a hero . Another armored, yet crowned, individual in a refined plate, ornate blade held above his head with a shield strapped to his off-hand which formed some kind of spell. Behind him towered what Violet deduced was this ruler’s god and goddess, the pair plainly robed in appearance, but emanating an energy towering over everything, and everyone…

Except a figure which rapidly split from the king , visibly stumbling as the other forms spirited away. A perfect mirror… Of themselves .

“... What?” Violet murmured as they moved to touch this seeming copy. Their wounds soon glowered with pale blue mana, resonating with the same areas on the mirror mage.

“... Remember what you have lost. Cherish what you have gained. Always keep hope.” ‘Violet’ cryptically spoke, similarly to when the purple sorcerer had been amped in their fight against Mortivant.

“I… I can’t.” Violet mumbled, recalling their whole issue with practically having no life memory wise. How could they even perform the first of what ‘they were telling themselves’?

“In due time you shall lay claim to clarity. As a reward for your deeds… As a part of your journey with you and your many friends to come.” ‘Violet’ laid a hand on their ‘normal’ counterpart’s shoulder.

“To find myself. But… I haven’t thought about how I should even begin!” Violet said in a slight panic as things became more clearer to them, “ I haven’t even been thinking for what might’ve been most of my life- ”

“It may have not come to you clear enough, but you already know.”

“Wha-?”

“ A small place, amid the plains. ” ‘Violet’ smiled, “ And anymore confusion… Just a reason to continue to unfurl the secrets which not even the gods and goddesses may know.”

“I… I see.” Violet gulped, trying to take whatever ‘they’ said as best as possible. But none of this was easy to register.

“And keep in mind, it is within the collective potential of you and your allies that shall reap what you may all seek.” ‘Violet’ said with finality.

Before the proper Violet could say anything else, ‘Violet’ melded back into the orb of energy. It shot straight into Violet, around where anyone’s heart would be-

And everything burst into light .

 

< FANTASTICAL TOWERS - ACT ONE // ACCELERATED BEGINNINGS [END] >