The logs went up in flames. It was the first spell she had learnt and now Nissa had used it to create herself a campfire. She sat down next to the fire and ate the meal she had prepared.

It had been three years since she was first allowed to leave the village – eight since she started her training. Jerold had said that he was proud of her. She started her training a year later than most but still managed to finish on schedule.

Being out in the world wasn’t as glamorous as she had once imagined but she loved it regardless.

“You still live in your head as much as you did as a child,” said a voice from behind her.

“And you still make as much noise when you walk as a wailing baby,” Nissa retorted.

Jerold couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No,” he sighed. “No boars. I’ll just have to eat rabbit. Rabbit every day. How do you not get sick of it?”

“I’m often thinking of other things when I eat. I don’t take much note of the taste.”

Jerold looked confused – or intrigued. Nissa couldn’t tell.

“Rest up. I’ll take first watch for the night,” Jerold stated. “We’ll be heading out at first light.”

Hours passed and Nissa woke to Jerold in her face. She jerked her body in the opposite direction.

“Sorry for startling you,” he said with a grin on his face. “Your turn to keep watch.”

As she got up, she was thinking of ways to get back at her mentor. Perhaps I could just stab him a little, she thought with a malevolent smile on her face.

Nissa sat still as a statue in the middle of her camp, with her dagger resting on her lap. Her eyes were closed. She was supposed to keep watch but she found that her eyes could betray her. Her ears are what she relied on instead.

On the year prior, a lone paladin had tried to sneak up on her when she was on watch. He walked quietly, but not quiet enough. Nissa waited until the paladin was only a foot away before making her move. She slowly cut into her leg. She wanted to make as little movement as possible so the paladin would continue to believe she was unaware of his presence.

With the blood, she increased her speed and reflexes for a short time. It was a useful spell to know, not just for combat scenarios. With her increased speed she spun around, dagger in hand.

The paladin was not expecting this at all. His natural reaction was to put up his hand to defend his body, but that only caused the dagger to cut his hand instead.

This paladin wasn’t trained well, Nissa thought. He looked young but she couldn’t tell in the dark. She focused on the blood on his hand and made it explode. There was only a small amount of blood but it was enough to cause the paladin to lose his hand.

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The paladin, in an attempt to save his life, crafted an illusion of himself where he was standing, and hid himself from view. He tried to run away but the illusion didn’t last long.

Nissa realised it was only an illusion when she tried to take control of the blood gushing from the paladin’s arm. She walked through the illusion and tried to sense where the blood was. The illusion didn’t fool her but the paladin was still hiding himself.

In his panic, the paladin tripped on a rock as he was trying to flee which only led him to release the focus on his illusion. Nissa walked up and stood over him. The paladin turned over to face her, begging for mercy, “I yield! I yield!”

“That’s good,” Nissa said coldly before giving him a quick and painless death.

Jerold, ever the mentor, only congratulated her for the way she handled it. He didn’t even thank her for potentially saving his life. He just went back to sleep, as if nothing had happened, leaving Nissa to deal with the body.

The sun was beginning to rise. Nissa kicked Jerold gently to wake him.

“No trouble?” He asked.

“Aside from your snoring?”

He smiled. No one could make Jerold smile or laugh as Nissa could. She was like a daughter to him. After Nissa completed her training, she was partnered up with him. The village elders knew they would work well together and they were right, as always.

Jerold collected their things and Nissa kicked some dirt on what was left of the fire she had started the night prior.

“You know this area better than I,” started Nissa. “Which way are we heading?”

“Are you calling me more experienced?”

“Old, more like. So which way?”

“So rude. Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders?” He nodded toward a rocky outcrop, “that way.”

They travelled in the direction Jerold had indicated until they spotted what they were sent out for. It wasn’t hard to see from where they were atop a hill.

“Remember, we are just here to watch and report,” Jerold reminded her. “Do not engage unless absolutely necessary.”

“Thanks mum.”

Off in the distance was a large outpost, full of paladins.

“How many do you count?” Jerold asked.

“Can’t tell. We’re too far away.”

“I’ll get closer and get a count.”

“You?” She asked in disbelief. “They’d hear you coming! I’ll go.”

Jerold hesitated. “Be careful. They have hounds that are trained to smell blood so you won’t be able to cast enough when you’re down there.”

“Good to know.”

Nissa stayed low as she approached the encampment. The first thing she noticed that not only were the paladins armoured, the hounds were too. They wore chainmail armour. She was confused as to why they’d armoured the mutts. The paladins were the only ones who used any slashing weapon.

She stayed as still as possible so as not to draw any unwanted attention, and began counting. She had managed to get within their patrols around the outpost so caution was of utmost importance. If she was spotted, she was as good as dead.

Ten, twenty, thirty. Nissa had counted some 34 men. For every third man, there was a hound. Some of the men had differences in their armour, but she could not discern why. It couldn’t have been rank as some of the men that she thought younger than her had these differences.

She came to the conclusion that it must be some sort of division marker, like magicians have a different colour trim on their clothing for the division they belonged. Nissa belonged to the intelligence division, meaning her normal black clothing had a maroon trim.

When she realised that there were no more men to count, she carefully made her way back to Jerold who was waiting where she left him. She had narrowly made it past a patrol without being seen or heard.

“So?”

“I counted 34 men, and about eleven of those mutts,” Nissa told him. “Some of the men had differences in their armour as well. I presume they mark divisions like colour do for us. I counted three distinctive differences but could not tell from their equipment or behaviour what their divisions may be.”

“You did good,” Jerold told her. “Let’s head back before we get spotted out here.”