To say he was surprised when he opened his eyes was an understatement. Cillian fully expected never to wake up again after being captured, and an organisation that was able to capture a Ranger lieutenant, even one returning to the borderlands through a relatively safe route narrowed down the potential culprits. He didn’t even see the face of his captors, nor did he remember what he had been forced to reveal. The recent past was a haze of confusion. There was some pain, of course, but the memories of pleasure were the ones that stood out in his mind. What did he say under that haze? What was he forced to reveal in the pursuit of seeking more of the same?

He felt relatively normal now, even if his muscles were akin to jelly. He saw only darkness, but soon enough his eyes adjusted. He was in a cell, of course, but not a crude one. It had many modern amenities, and he soon found the switch to turn on the ceiling lights. Elemental Fire gathered in the glass orb along with a few other Elements he couldn’t see. The light was a warm yellow. Cozy. Except, it was a prison cell, so the effect was mostly lost.

He was clad in loose grey robes, nothing else underneath. There was a network of fading bruises across his legs and torso, on his back too from the stiffness he felt. There was a desk across his bunk, and the mattress was nice and soft. The room was less than five paces long and three wide. Claustrophobically small, too. If he stood up, his hair was just a handspan away from the ceiling. The door on the narrow side was wrought iron with heavy rivets visible on the edges. Bars were set at eye level with a slider at the bottom where trays of food could be sent in.

He staggered towards the door and grabbed the bars before he smacked his nose on the metal. His legs were a bit stronger than when he just woke up but were nowhere near normal. He pulled himself up and looked out, expecting a hallway and perhaps another cell across from him. Instead, what he saw was an empty void. A quick glance to the side showed the rest of the hallway and a hint of other cells in the distance. He went on tiptoes to look downwards and found that the hall was set against a cliff. The skies were dark and he wasn’t sure if it was overcast or if they were underground. From the feel of it, they were in a Chaos Fount, too. How was he going to escape?

He could feel the tendrils of Chaos worming its way towards the residences, only ameliorated by the presence of Chaos Wards set above the door. From the way the ward flickered, it was almost filled to the brim.

He swallowed nervously. Having weak wards was almost worse than having none at all. Once the wards failed, the gathered Chaos would erupt into a denser mass than it would normally have. And he knew who captured him now. The ward design made it obvious.

Raptura Ecclesium.

The Breaker Cult. Magi who’ve lost their minds and morals to the Chaos of the Shattered Realm and who desire nothing more than to shatter the rest of the Great Continent. To bring the rest of the world under the enlightenment of Chaos, and to return to the Primordial Origin.

Cillian swallowed convulsively. What did he tell those madmen? It wasn’t much of a leap to guess. They were interested in the foreigners that came from through the Shattered Realm, and he had been the one to ferry them from the border to Nirlith. The question was, how did they know? How did they learn enough to know that they should gather more intel? And why capture him instead of going for Lady Davar and the others?

No, that was a foolish question. Lady Davar was at least a True Magus, if not a Grand Magus. There were only three Grand Magi in the country, four if one counted the Adventurers’ Guild branch master. Five now, if one could count Lady Davar. Although that still was not definite.

Capturing a Grand Magus, even a True Magus, was at least ten times more difficult than killing them. Most True Magi could take on an elemental form, even if only for a short while. Trying to capture the elements like that was like catching water with a sieve. Difficult, if not futile. Not unless they knew the specific element to counter. Oh, what did his foolish mouth reveal?

He swore loudly and banged the door. The clang echoed across the empty void, bouncing off the cliff face and probably amplifying the noise. It was a distorted sound, however, and chilled him to the bone.

He sighed and was just about to go back to his bunk.

“Lieutenant Coinoch?” A tinny voice reached him from across the void. He recognised it anyway, and with that, any hope of a quick rescue was lost.

“Corporal Ortiz.”

___________

“Are you…alright?” Heron asked when they were far enough away from the battle slavers. Gwendith shook her head

“Do you want to do something about it?” Heron continued.

She pursed her lips and said, “I would, but we don’t really know their culture.” She took a deep breath. “Miss Saki, what did they do to their wounded?”

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The Shadow Guard answered, “Those pierced by your daggers were dragged away by the other grey robes. I peeked at them and saw that they were getting treated with healing potions and salves.”

“I see.” Gwendith grunted. “Do you have an idea who they were? And who were the redcoats they fought?”

“They're definitely not Bresian,” Heron said. “I think…” he frowned. “I remember checking a geography book. Those robes looked like they were made for deserts. Southeast of Nirlith, of Bresia, east of the Great Lake, is a desert. From there?”

“That’s assuming the Chaos Fount’s portal brought us there,” Gwendith said.

“Hmmm.” Heron nodded along. They took a roundabout route but still headed towards the ruins. “Why did they assume I was a slave?”

Gwendith shrugged. “Who knows?”

Saki piped up. “Probably because you weren’t casting spells. None of the grey-robed ones did.”

The three of them continued their trek in silence. Gwendith was in deep thought. Her experiences in the barbarian fortress rose up in her mind like a nightmare and she couldn’t help but shudder. She was free. She had been saved, and she was stronger now. She could kill those barbarians with a flick of her finger. She had killed her tormentor, watched him fall down a waterflow, frozen in a block of ice. She was free. She was…

She had a protector, a lover, and a compatriot. She was free.

Her breath grew ragged and she noticed both of her companions looking at her with some concern. Those slavers…even though they treated their slaves well…though that was still to be debated, considering they were used as literal meat shields…

She…what could she do? What would Yuriko do? What would an Ancient do?

Implacable. The Ancients walked their path heedless of what stood to obstruct them. That was the impression she got from the World Trials and from Yuriko herself. If Yuri saw injustice like that…she would not have turned a blind eye. Not that she would rush and poke her nose into their business immediately…or would she?

Yuriko was quite impulsive after all.

So that really meant Gwendith should not be…

She closed her eyes for a long moment and felt for her connection with Yuriko. It was there at the back of her mind, the thread that connected them. She couldn’t feel through them without going into deep meditation, but she could always get impressions if she paid a bit of attention.

Yuriko was…content? Focused? Introspective. She must be meditating. She felt the closeness between them through the threads and felt the weight of Yuriko’s regard.

It wasn’t quite love, Gwendith knew. Yuriko did not love Gwendith like that. Not like her parents, or any other married couple. She wasn’t sure why, but Yuri’s feelings were more affectionate than anything else. That and the act of making love had probably opened more than a few doors in her mind. Mishalas were rather promiscuous after all, or perhaps the correct term would be passionate. Yuriko was certainly that.

Gwendith was fine. And the next time she encountered those slavers…well, she was sure things wouldn’t end so peacefully. Perhaps they should have pressed the attack since they were the ones who attacked first, huh? But while her hands were not unstained with blood, she had no real desire to stain them further without need.

She gave Heron a sideways glance. His hands were probably blood red. He had performed as part of the militia during the early parts of the Rumiga War. But she noticed he wasn’t that eager to kill either. He gave crippling blows, but that was it.

Was it a weakness? But they were far more powerful than their foes and mercy was a luxury for the strong. Then, the only thing she and Heron needed to do was make sure that they would always be stronger than their foes. And if there came a time when the scales weighed the other way, then there would be no holding back.

“Somebody’s following us,” Saki said quietly.

“Where?” Gwendith asked, holding her impulse to turn around.

“Next to that building. Invisibility spell.”

“How can you tell?”

“Even invisible, there’s still a slight shadow.”

“Ah. What to do? Heron?”

He shrugged. “Confront them or ignore them. I’m feeling a bit itchy, so…”

“Gotcha,” Gwendith said.

She turned around, and Saki pointed at the shimmer in the air. She could actually feel that the space was a bit warmer than the surrounding air.

“Show yourself unless you want to get burned.”

The shimmer paused for a long moment. Gwendith held up a hand and pulled the heat from her surroundings. She focused it over her palm while allowing the cold to create flecks of snow. The Chaos Fount wasn’t that humid though, so only a few flurries appeared.

The orb of fire crackled menacingly, and the hidden person apparently decided he didn’t want to get fried. The invisibility spell faded away and revealed a redcoat. His hands were empty and he held them out in front of him.

“Peace, I mean no harm,” he said in Wojan, though his accent was different from the slavers.

“So who are you?” Gwendith asked crossly.

“I am Alaric Mateo.” He looked to be middle-aged, with weary features, sun-tanned skin, and close-cropped greying hair. “I’m a scout belonging to the 23rd Delving Company of the Ishodir Empire.” He cleared his throat. “I am following you because you are trespassing on a disputed Chaos Fount between the Empire and the Xotha Matriarchy.”

___________

Laura Mondero looked at the pamphlet posted on the guild’s bulletin board. The board that posted notices and missions was the next one over, and it was her job to make sure that the assignments and missions would not lead an unprepared group to their deaths. Posts with problematic information were given to the Vigilant to check, and to complete if need be.

Laura had just returned to Nirlith City after a couple of weeks of travel, and she was eager to return to Lady Davar’s tutelage. While she hadn’t learned the particulars of the Primordial energy, she had progressed leaps and bounds with her Elemental Truth. Perhaps in a year or two, she would be able to advance her Elemental Heart and become an Advanced Magus.

The pamphlet was an announcement of an upcoming match between Lady Davar and an infamous professor in Niria, a True Magus, Eduardo Farran’ir. It also announced a betting pool and the odds were against the newcomer.

Laura smirked and decided to wager a hundred golds on her teacher. Watching the fight would hopefully be illuminating, and the gods knew she needed every advantage she could get.

Home had come a-calling, and she didn’t want to think of what she had been forced to do.