Brand’s departure from Saint Hilda wasn’t easy. When he broke the news to Astrid, she cried openly, clinging to his head as if that could stop him from leaving.
“It’s ok. It’s ok,” he reassured her. “I’ll be back for you in a few years.”
“How many?” Astrid asked.
Brand looked over to Azmina who was still sitting at the table. She showed five fingers telling Brand what he needed to know.
“Five years,” He explained. “Just five years and we can all leave this city as magi.”
She relented, letting go of Brand’s head. “I’ll miss you,” she sobbed.
“And I’ll miss you,” Brand said back to her. “And I forgive you for giving me the name Brandy.”
“It’s a cute name,” she said, letting him go.
“Yeah, it is”, Brand reluctantly admitted.
Uhtred walked up to Brand punching him lightly in the side. “Don't you think I'll start crying too. I’m tougher than that.” He and Brand grasped each other's forearms firmly, their usual ritual of respect. “Five years will be easy. Hells, I’ll be so well off by the time you come back you’ll have to beg me to go with you.”
“No doubt”, Brand said, coming in close to speak into his ear. “My stash is 15 paces to the east from behind the house deep under a trash heap in the alley. Use it well.”
Uhtred’s eyes started to water but he blinked away the tears quickly. He raised his right-hand carefully to not be seen by anyone but Brand. A dark and translucent hand-shaped figure extended from his palm. It moved toward Brand slowly making him take a step back.
“Don't worry,” Uhtred reassured when Brand jerked away.
The dark hand went right through Brand’s hand then pocket, leaving both undisturbed. It then pulled the one gold finger he had out the same way the hand had entered.
“How, the, fuck?” Brand whispered before Uhtred shut him up by shushing him and handing the gold back over.
“It’s not my focus,” he explained. “Amra is my goddess, and she lets me use her power. That’s all you need to know.”
Realization quickly entered Brand’s mind. Amra was a goddess of thieves, the night, banditry, lies, and so many more deplorable acts. If Uhtred was not using a focus to accomplish his unseen thievery then he was using a divine gift won through devout worship or ceremony. But what would one have to do to gain favor from what some referred to as the heavenly harlot?
Brand had once investigated achieving a god’s patronage but was hindered by the ridiculous requirements. Some gods, most famously being Vara, goddess of pretty much being good in every way and children, wished for their chosen few to remain virgins to be granted power. Why a goddess of raising children would want to stop the act of making then, Brand knew not.
Other gods wanted great achievements like Magni, the god of war and thunder, who wanted representations of 100 foes defeated in honored combat. That was the one Brand had been aiming for.
He’d brought his first few tributes to the god’s temple, which had been a diverse collection of earlobes, teeth, and fingers. The priest that met with him said the defeated had to be killed in combat for the blessing to be granted, so Brand gave up on the endeavor.
The last method was to sacrifice to a god for power. Hel’s cult was known to hunt the streets of the Nulls for its bountiful number of starving peasants to slay over an altar dedicated to the goddess of death.
Upon his return, Brand would need to ask what Uhtred what he'd done to please Amra and see if he could do it too. One never knew what kind of blessing a god could bestow. Maybe where Uhtred received a spectral hand and Brand would create weapons of shadow.
Next came Magna which to Brand's surprise was quite brief. “I love you, now get going. You have a new life ahead of you,” she said quickly while looking towards the main street with ever other word.
“Is everything alright?” Brand asked. “You look like someone's coming to get you.”
“It's not me I'm worried about,” Magna answered. “There's a… chance some of Hoder’s men may come after you and there's the little miss’s brother. The faster you release your mana channels the better”.
“Mana channels?” Brand Asked.
Pretending as if she did not hear Brand’s question Magna handed him a rough stitched together bag and prompted him to fill it. “Put everything you want to keep inside. Hurry along.”
“Already done,” he said.
He hugged Magna one more time secretly slipping a few gold fingers into her pocket then gave one last hug to Astrid before he and Azmina left for the noble district.
****
Late in the night, striker Rollo walked up to Saint Hilda’s entrance. A feeling of nostalgia filled him at seeing his old home. It had been over 40 years since he lived there and seeing it now brought back memories of innocence; times before the training had made him into a weapon, before he lost count of the people he’d slaughtered for the greater good, and before death-dealing was almost game instead of an unforgivable crime.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Work, like most of his fellow strikers, had kept him away. Thankfully, his years of service gained him an easy life training the next generation to replace him and doing small jobs, sometimes even legal ones like this one. In exchange, he got to live within Vellia's walls with several ounces of gold a month to spend.
Walking up the familiar steps, Rollo paused from time to time. Memories were etched into the floor only seen by those who made them. He saw the flowers he loved to cut into the wood. Just a few steps up from that was where he had his first kiss by a girl named Hilda.
He chuckled to himself remembering how proud she was to have the same name of the orphanage like it made her its queen. She was doing well too. Fully retired and running some villa after an injury earned her an early retirement. Rollo hoped that one day this Brand he'd been sent to get would walk here and relive some of his own childhood as he had.
Reaching the front door, Rollo knocked four times then waited. He’d never met Magna in person but rumors of her were common throughout the striker ranks due to her raising every new recruit for the last few decades. Coupled with the infamous end of her service, there were few that didn’t know her name or the cautionary tale her career left behind.
She'd apparently been put into training because of her focus even though she and many teachers at the time didn’t recommend it. Sadly, they had been correct. Soon after being placed in the field, she caused an incident in Gridania that resulted in many innocent deaths. Soon after, she sealed her own mana and chose to retire to Saint Hilda’s.
Rollo wanted to meet this woman and find out what kind of focus she had. Replicating its effect might give him the means to-.
knives of agony dug into Rollo's mind forcing him to take a knee. He would have screamed if the assault of magic didn’t force his mouth shut separating his mind from speech. The thoughts dancing in the striker's mind shifted as his eyes grew red and the smell of blood filled his nose. Then the episode ended, and he could think again.
“Replicating Magna's focus would gift Makarov with power no one else had.” Rollo thought promising the magic plaguing his mind he held no overly selfish desires.
Still, he doubted any kingdom could wipe out a third of a city in a little under five minutes. If that power stayed within the striker ranks, he could live with it.
Rollo shook his head in an attempt to fend off the discomfort of his mind being forced into compliance. He hadn't put his own desires before Dreyark’s in years. Maybe this peaceful lifestyle left him idol enough to scheme. He’d need to keep such thoughts from his mind or suffer the consequences.
The entryway then opened slightly showing a dark-haired boy that used the door as a shield. Rollo smirked after scanning the area with a spell, something training had forced him to learn as a reflex.
The boy held a small hammer carefully hidden behind his back ready to be used at a moment's notice. There was also a fey kin girl floating above him in the cover of darkness with a sharpened stick held ready. If Rollo was mundane and looking for trouble these two would more than likely make him regret his actions.
“They'll make great strikers,” Rollo thought, looking forward to the day he got to teach them.
“What you want, Sir?” the boy asked, fear laced in every word.
Rollo appreciated the performance. Even as the boy talked, his grip tightened on the hammer and his posture shifted anticipating a fight. “I'm here to speak with your matron. Tell her, Rollo is here.”
“Uhtred what are you doing at the door?” said a feminine voice from further in the house.
The boy who must be Uhtred then tried to shut the door quickly. Rollo wedged his foot in the opening to keep it ajar. He raised his voice just enough to not let it be a yell.
“I'm here on behalf of the company.”
From the way Magna's expression turned cold she recognized the code used to refer to Dreyark's darker branch. She quickly walked up to Uhtred gently pushing him into another room.
“He could be you know who's man,” Uhtred protested.
Magna said nothing as her hand grabbed the boy’s hammer, quickly wrenching it from him and tossing it down the hallway she came from. The fey kin girl didn’t go unnoticed either. Magna made a small jump, grabbing the girl from her hiding spot by a leg and flinging her like a piece of cloth into the same room as Uhtred. She then returned her attention back to Rollo, a smile painted on her face that didn't reach her eyes.
Before the matron had a chance to speak, a wave of energy moved through her from Rollo’s position. He sent a thaumaturgical probing spell to gleam into the mystery of her focus. To his surprise, the spell was blocked entirely by what had to be an enchanted item on her person.
Rollo realized he’d been foolish to think it would be easy to obtain such secrets. Any striker worth a damn would have such defenses, even if retired. His momentary surprise diminished his reactions so much, he didn’t notice the wand pointed at his head until there was no way to dodge before it could release a nasty spell.
The wand was purple and gold with arcane writing on it than a smooth surface. The four gold rings placed along its length already glowed, primed to end him with what felt like a spell of disintegration if he even flinched.
Magna had already anchored his head to the wand. If he moved, the spell would fly, killing him before he moved an inch. Magna could move all she wanted without effect, so Rollo had inadvertently been made a prisoner, his cage the very wood he stood upon.
“I don't take kindly to men magically looking up my skirt,” Magna stated in a voice that dripped with mirth. “So many of you think I’m helpless without my mana, but in this house.” Her voice grew colder as she spoke like a judge delivering an execution’s decree. “In my house, you are like a child to me. Understand?”
Rollo was about to shake his head to answer but remembered doing so would lose him that head. “Yes mam,” he said, remembering never to underestimate this woman again.
Magna slipped the wand up her sleeve, turned her back, and walked deeper into the house obviously expecting him to follow. Reluctantly, Rollo followed.
Once inside, he realized that her earlier statement was not for dramatic effect. There were traps hidden throughout the walls of the house, some with similar effects as the wand. They were expertly hidden in cloaking spells that could only be seen through easily by those that went through striker training. Anyone else would have to be looking for such things to even get a vague sense any magic was there.
Rollo spotted spells to put one to sleep. He saw some that would shock an intruder to death while simultaneously burning its victim. Every few steps were some to trap you in a shield then steal away the air or fill it with something deadly. Every inch of the place also had animation runes hidden within. The very house could come alive to crush someone by shrinking its walls or a window drape constricting around a neck like a noose.
He also saw a few teleport spells that were linked to the matron's mark Magna wore and many others huddled around the house. What was even more terrifying about that particular set of enchantments was that when activated all other traps would be set off leaving only a crater in the ground. Rollo could hardly believe all this was done with enchantments that only drew mana from the air, unlike his own home that drew from large beats cores.
“This is truly an impressive place of power,” Rollo thought. “Even so, I could escape if I ha-.”
Rollo’s reassurance in his abilities was crushed when he noticed the dozens of wand tips hidden in the walls, all pointed at him. They were of the same caliber and had the same spell that Magna threatened him with earlier.
The wands moved through the walls as if intangible. He now knew if he wanted to leave with his life, it was completely up to his hostess’s willingness to let him keep it.