I run for hours, breaking only for water and course corrections. Where am I going? I tailored the divination to find safety, and I am beginning to suspect that means leaving the kingdom.

I spot a column of soldiers marching down the road in the opposite direction. Two dozen foot, a third of which are archers, two chevaliers, and a noble lady.

Tempting, but the noble is dressed like a mage. She’s likely quite capable in the arcane if she’s making it part of her presentation, which means she’s more powerful than me. I might be able to take her out with surprise at a distance, but she’s the best offering of the group and I have no way of reliably incapacitating her without killing.

Ignore the mage, the group is too big to take on even without her. Even not counting the chevaliers, who could likely kill you on their own, they’d overwhelm you with their numbers.

My skin itches.

Okay, let’s think about this. Break down the problem. (What problem? Just let them pass.) The infantry first. They’re divided into six groups of four. In marching order: one group of spears, then archers, then spears, the riders, another spears, second archers, and spears again. I can likely kill any one group with a firestream spell, maybe two, and can likely cast that a second time before the melee charges and kill me due to its limited range.

Moreover, I can only kill one group of archers in a single cast, and casting will end my concealment spell completely even under the boon. The group of archers I don’t kill will immediately shoot at me, pinning me down and forcing me to cast a shield spell instead of another firesstream.

So let them shoot me. Don’t cast a shield. Even if all four arrows hit, I probably won’t die. I can pull out any threatening arrow and let my regeneration handle it while I cast the second firestream to kill the second group of archers. Then I retreat faster than the infantry can run, recast concealment, and incapacitate them in melee after regenerating.

Okay, congrats. You solved the problem if you pretend the problem is just infantry, but what about the riders? The chevaliers will probably see through your concealment once alerted, and the mage will start casting defensive spells if you don’t kill her first.

… I guess I’ll have to kill the riders first then. It’s a pity to give up the noble, but it’ll still be worth it if I sacrifice enough of the soldiers.

Sure, but ignoring the high probability that the chevaliers’ armours are enchanted against fire, or that the mage has passive defences of her own, can you survive being shot with eight arrows instead of four?

… Then I’ll cast the shield after the first firestream kills the riders, retreat into cover and cast concealment, then come back and do the first plan.

You’re still ignoring the chance that the riders will survive, but even if they don’t, by the time you get back the infantry will spread themselves out so you can only kill one or two with a single cast.

Then I’ll be able to pick them off in melee under concealment.

But that will take time, which you will not have because of the smoke from your firestream. And if they send runners in opposite directions to report your location? They’ll send elite mages after you– assuming the lady isn’t one herself.

Okay, but what if I…

The column disappears behind a hill. I take a sharp breath as if coming out of a trance– realizing that I have been staring at the group for a quarter of an hour as they slowly marched down the road.

My arm is in agony. I look down to see I have torn it to bloody ribbons. It takes at least five minutes for my boon to regenerate, and five minutes after that I am still staring at where they disappeared.

I pull myself from my stupor and take a mouthful from my waterskin.

…I need a leader. I could always count on Gebal to find enemies for me to sacrifice while being reasonable about risks. If I don’t find someone to give me orders soon, I’ll probably self-destruct attacking every Arkothan I come across with the slightest chance of sacrificing.

With that in mind, I slowly turn to resume on the path towards safety. I wilfully ignore all signs of people not directly in my path. I spot a few travellers, and a small town, but I refuse to look– my fist clenched as I pass them.

It’s almost dusk when I smell blood directly ahead of me. I move several paces to the side and pull out the crystal pendulum which confirms that no matter how much I move off path, the blood is in the direction of safety. Moreover, the angle of the path changes drastically with each deviation, meaning that the promised safety is near.

I creep closer and see a farm. A few seconds later I spot figures in the shadows keeping watch. I sneak up behind one, grab them, and place my ritual knife against their throat. I whisper, “Snakes in the shadows…”

“Strike without warning.” He answers quickly, and I immediately let go and sheath my knife.

“Shit, that scared me! Who the fuck are you!?” He asks loudly.

“Is this cell in the habit of giving out their names to anyone who asks?” I say amused.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“N-no.” He stammers. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“What’s going on Cylus.” The watch partner shouts from a distance, approaching us with blade drawn.

‘Cylus’ rolls their eyes at the comedic timing and shouts back. “It’s nothing, just a guest. Stay here, I’ll take them in.” Then turning to me. “Come on, Tanyth will want to see you straight away.”

“This is Tanyth’s cell?” I ask excitedly.

“Yeah, weren’t you looking for us?” He asks confused.

“I divined this location with a broad criterion.” I explain.

“Oh, you’re a mage. Good. We can always use another… Our current one is moody.” He says with a joke whisper then turns to lead me to the farmhouse.

I follow. Noticing that the blood smell is getting stronger as we near the house, I ask conversationally “By the way, what happened to this place’s owners?”

“Collaborators.” He says nonchalantly.

“Ah.” I say in understanding.

“So… any news.”

“…I think it’s best if I tell Tanyth first.”

“Right… Probably.”

We reach the farmhouse and are met at the door by a young guard, perhaps a little older than me. They wear an imperial breastplate that has been heavily modified to make it clear it’s been stolen. A messy stripe of black and green paint and a fury of metal shards for epaulets. A large sword hangs from their side with a golden rune glinting on the pommel which tells me it’s likely magical. Their face is scowling and hair is a shortly cropped mess under an imperial helmet with sections removed to be open faced and not obstruct their ears.

“Who’s this?” They say as we enter the antechamber.

“Guest. Will you entertain while I tell Tanyth?” The guard nods. “Thanks… Oh, they’re a mage.”

The guard’s hand goes to their sword and eyes snap towards me. I lean against the wall and put my hands in front of me, palms up with fingers visible– the universal gesture for ‘I’m not casting anything at the moment’. I do know one spell that requires neither words nor gestures, but it’s highly situational and is something they would be on the look out for anyways. Not that I feel the need to try anything.

“So, squire?” I smile conversationally.

“Yeah.” they nod.

They’re not afraid (nor am I), it’s just standard practice to be cautious around an unknown mage. A commendable level of vigilance. Likewise, my current posture isn’t to dull suspicion, but is just common courtesy in this situation.

“Tanyth’s?” I continue my questions.

“Yeah.”

“Quite an honour.” I say, just a little bit jealous. It’s irrational given that our paths are incompatible, but it’s still there.

“Yeah, well… it’s hard to live up.”

“I bet… don’t worry, I’m sure you’re doing fine.” At the very least I haven’t noticed any major flaws in the scant moment since we met.

“…Thanks.”

I hear Cylus talking with someone about me. The other person sounds how I remember Tanyth, but perhaps a bit gruffer. It’s been two years since I’ve seen her. I smile when Cylus tells her that I sneaked up on him (I’ll have to thank him for mentioning something good about me), then relax slightly when she tells Cylus to bring me in.

“You have enhanced perception.” The squire states. “I could barely make that out.”

“Yeah.” I admit.

“Unusual, for a mage.”

“It’s a god thing.”

They nod. Cylus opens the door a moment later, and the squire nods for me to follow him. We go through a pantry full of food, emerge into the kitchen and then the dining area. Cylus brings me to the middle of the room and leaves.

Tanyth is sitting across the table from me, and a woman a bit older than me is leaning on the wall behind her. It would be obvious the latter is a mage even if I didn’t already know. I don’t know her name but recall her doing interesting magic the last time our cells met up.

There are two heavily armed underlings standing to my sides ready to attack. I assume a third is behind me (having been obscured by the door when I entered), but I deliberately do not turn to check as it might make me seem nervous.

My eyes are locked on studying Tanyth. There’s a new scar on her face, but otherwise she looks the same as I remember. Long braided hair that I know to be part of an oath made to a deity. She wears enchanted full plate, and a magic two handed sword leans against the table next to her. My eyes rest on the three holy symbols of different gods hanging from a chain necklace resting on top of her breastplate.

Almost every soldier is contracted to one of the war gods to receive boons. Most boons granted are minor since most people either do not qualify for greater contracts, or the restrictions are too harsh for them to maintain.

The most common contract is enhanced strength in exchange for making an oath to behave in a way the god favours. Failure to abide by the oath will result in a curse. It’s possible to be under contract with multiple gods at once, but most don’t since similar boons don’t stack, and gods tend to be stricter when interpreting oaths made that way. Moreover, the multiple behavioural restrictions become hard to juggle and can lead to contradictions between them.

Tanyth is famous for receiving major boons from three different deities.

The first oath she made publicly to Calmar, the god of defensive wars and vigilance. The boon granted is a standard package similar to what I am receiving from Anar. Enhanced strength, resilience (omitted from my boon), perception, reflexes, coordination and healing.

The behavioural restrictions are numerous but can be boiled down to a prohibition on alcohol or any activity that reduces fighting readiness. Finally, Calmar will smite her dead should she surrender, be captured, or give up the fight while the enemy is still in Caethlon.

It’s said that when the contract was designed several hundred years ago, the last clause was meant to be part of its cost, but that she views it as the primary benefit. She has certainly used it to gain a deserved leadership role in the resistance– both as a sign of her dedication, and because it makes her a secure repository of secrets.

The second oath was made to the smith god of arms, Muerin. I don’t know what the oath is, but the boon is that her weapons will not break, nor her armour be pierced. There are rumours that it also has some effect on magical weapons, both hers and her enemies’. Some say she can periodically create them for free, but that seems unlikely.

The third oath was made to the nature deity of forests and beneficial plants Palgia. She and her companions leave no tracks, are better obscured by foliage, and periodically receive large amounts of food in the form of berries and other forest bounty. The latter is said to be magical, and bestows strength and healing to those who eat them.

The oath includes having to plant seeds wherever she goes and having restrictions on destroying plants. Examples include being unable to chop down a tree or burning a wagon full of grain. I don’t know all the details, but the last part is particularly relevant in partisan warfare.

These three oaths combined with her own talents as a high ranked knight [similar but distinct to chevalier] makes her the deadliest fighter in the resistance.

After a few moments of mutual observation, she speaks. “You’re Gebal’s pet cultist, aren’t you.”

“Yes.” I say, not knowing to be excited that I’m recognized by her or insulted at being called a pet.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“Your cell?”

“Gone. I’m the only survivor.”

She sighs. “… That’s the fourth one today.”