Alan awoke bright and early, invited to rise by the sun through the window. He double checked that he had packed everything he needed for a long journey, including his latest prototype railgun, and enough broad arrowheads that he almost felt bad for the horse that would carry him.
His entire pack, which included a separate bag for his brand new chainmail and gambeson, weighed a lot more than he was comfortable carrying if they were to travel by foot, and he was already breathing lightly by the time he had assembled with the other acolytes in the square outside the administration building. He noticed most others had packed significantly lighter, and was slightly jealous of their smaller packs until he remembered that they probably wouldn’t be given horses.
An unassuming administrator clad in the academy’s standard red robes climbed the small stage with a stack of papers in his hands.
“We will now hand out your official orders, along with your first destination and mission. You will be responsible for your own traveling arrangements, but if you have any questions feel free to come up to me or any of the staff afterwards to discuss options.”
“After you have received your orders, you can proceed to the main entrance of the academy to meet the rest of your squad. I wish you all good luck in your endeavors, and remember, you represent the Royal Mage Academy now, hold your heads high and act honorably in all your dealings.”
“Group Alpha, please approach.”
Alan waited impatiently as the first group received their mission, feeling excited and slightly scared of the journey ahead of him.
“Have you considered packing some of your heavenly belongings with you?”
“Ehh.. what?” Alan turned to find a smirking Cal walking up to him.
“Since you’ve clearly packed all your earthly belongings, I mean,” Cal laughed, lining up next to him.
“Is the size of my package making you self-conscious?” Alan smirked back, not able to stop himself.
Cal faked a gag, and wisely decided not to reply, as the first group was leaving the stage.
“Group Bravo, please approach.”
Alan and Cal walked forward, meeting Marissa and Lia halfway to the stage.
“Right,” the administrator began in a lower voice, as they had closed in.
“As the most senior acolyte in the group, Aelia Ildmane, you will be the squad leader of your group, and thus the “highest ranking officer” on your missions.”
Alan turned abruptly towards “Lia”, suddenly connecting the dots. Looking back, he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. Well, this just got a bit… awkward, Alan mused to himself.
“Here are your orders, Aelia, and here are the details of your first destination and mission.”
Aelia received two official looking papers, which she quickly looked over.
“Your first mission will be to investigate allegations of corruption against Lord Aldwin Sinewood, and I strongly advise you to go about this discreetly.” The administrator looked dead serious.
“You will report all your findings to a contact in the guards, and you will under no circumstances confront the Lord about this. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear, Sir,” Aeila replied, equally serious.
“Good. Now, the soldier squad you are paired up with is quite experienced as investigators, as some of them come from previous city guard duty. So listen to them, and take things slow and thoroughly.”
“Your cover for visiting is outlined in the mission details, which will be to bring brigands and thieves to justice, as the criminal activity in the region has significantly increased as the country prepares for war.”
“You will also provide healing and aid where needed, now that you have been issued a healer. And I assume I do not have to remind you to keep her safe at all costs. Are your orders understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Aelia responded, “And we will protect Marissa with our lives.”
“Good, you are dismissed.”
As the group approached the entrance to the academy grounds, they found several squads of soldiers milling about on the road just outside. Only one of the group was outfitted with horses, and they had obviously been given a description of who to look for, as they waved Alan’s group over the moment they spotted them.
“Team Bravo, correct?”
The man speaking looked to be in his late forties, with a well trimmed beard and mustache, and a red and black uniform fitting snugly over a well trained and sun-kissed body. He held his hand out and greeted all of them with a crushing handshake.
“I’m Sergeant Greg Marsten, the squad leader of the ragtag group of misfits you see behind me there.” He said with a warm and deep voice, pointing with his thumb to the group behind him.
“Aeila Ildmane, nice to make your acquaintance,” their leader introduced herself in a small and insecure voice. Alan did not covet her position, as the power dynamic in their group obviously favored the veteran in front of them.
“Well, you all seem a tad young to be going on these sort of missions, no disrespect meant.” Greg stated, looking them over sternly.
“Just to make this clear: Our orders are to protect you, not obey you. This means that if we get a sniff of danger, you get behind us, do as we say, and keep out of harm's way. Remember that, and we’ll all get along just fine.”
Greg turned about and strolled back to pick up his pack.
“That went well…” Aeila muttered to no one in particular.
Alan patted her back as he walked passed. “It’ll be fine, Lia. Let’s meet the others.”
Aelia recoiled slightly from his touch, and Alan berated himself somewhat for the overly familiar action.
“Ah, it’s great to be out in the nice, clean, countryside again!” Cal exclaimed, sniffing the air with obvious exaggeration from atop his horse.
They had left the city behind a few hours ago, and had been going at a steady and sedated pace. It was mostly for the benefit of Marissa and one of the younger soldiers, Mark, who had no riding experience, and found the mounts somewhat terrifying.
Alan didn’t mind the slow pace, as even with all his training, he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of riding, and never really felt comfortable at speeds higher than a slow trot.
“Patros doesn’t smell that bad, does it?” Alan asked.
“It smells soo bad, it’s horrible!” Cal answered. “I swear, it’s a wonder the rats haven’t infested every part of that city yet.”
“Hmm… I guess you get used to it if you live there for a while..” Alan mused.
“I still can’t believe our first mission is to investigate Lord Sinewood of all people,” Cal said, after a pause.
“Ah, that is the lord your family pays “rent” to, right?”
“That’s right, though rent is not the word I would choose.”
“So, how would you describe him? What do you think of the accusations?” Alan asked, curious.
“Oh, the allegations are true, no doubt about that. He’s a piece of shit, alright, slowly increasing taxes every year since he came into power, until most farmers aren’t capable of paying, and end up having to sell their farm to settle their debts, or even worse, end up in indebted servitude.”
“Really? That bad?”
“Yes, he’s a real piece of work. But the strange thing about this is the timing and the group. Why now and why us? I don’t understand that at all.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dreamed, for years, of a squad of knights arriving at his doorstep and dragging him off. I’m all for removing him, I just expected it to be more of an official group on a mission from the King, you know? Not… Us.”
Lia rode up next to them at that point, having obviously listened in.
“I read through our orders thoroughly, and guess who signed them?” She asked, expectantly.
“The lieutenant?” Alan guessed. “I can’t remember his name.”
“Think bigger,” Lia answered.
“A general?” Cal questioned.
“Nope, the Second Prince.” Lia said with a frown.
“Now, what do you make of that?” She asked, looking between the two boys.
“Eh… I have no idea.” Cal said.
“Yeah, me neither.” Alan said.
“Think about it,” Lia started, carefully. “Assume that most of our groups have been given similar orders. Investigate low level crimes as a cover, but silently gather evidence against the people in power all across the country. What could an opportunistic man in a position of significant power do with leverage against several of the lords controlling vast parts of the country?”
“Acquire more power, somehow?” Cal ventured.
“Do you think he’s planning action against the King?” Alan asked, confused.
“He doesn’t need to do anything to the King if the Empire handles that part for him. He only needs to take care of his older brother, who has significantly less sway with the nobles, and practically lives on borrowed influence and respect from his father.”
“You are suspiciously well informed about this, you sure you’re not in on it?” Alan asked mirthfully.
“Unlike some people, I actually paid attention when the High Society was discussed in school.” Aelia shot back. “Also, my mother enjoys gossiping.”
“Wait, how did you know I didn’t pay attention to these things in class?”
“Cat is surprisingly talkative once you manage to sneak past her frigid outer defenses.” Aelia said, smugly.
“Right, that makes sense, I guess…”
Cal was still considering the plot implicated by Aelia. “Do you think the Second Prince would stoop low enough to conspire with the Syrodin Empire to have the King killed as well? Is that why it all went so wrong?”
“Divide and conquer, huh?” Alan said, mostly to himself.
“It’s possible, I guess, but I really don’t know. Would he be willing to sell out parts of the kingdom for the chance of ruling it himself?” Aelie asked herself. “It doesn’t seem all that unlikely, but if any such correspondence would be uncovered, it would lead to mass rebellion on a scale the prince would never be able to handle. It’s hard to say if he’d think it worth the risk.”
“You would do well to let matters like these lie untouched, young acolytes.” Greg said with seriousness, as he rode up to the next to them. Eavesdropping is in season, I guess, Alan thought.
“The royals are very protective of their own, to the point that you would most likely be executed for your theories even if it saves their lives from an internal threat.”
“Even a personal advisor to the royals is severely restricted from talking about anything in public, so don’t think your status as acolytes or mages will afford you any leniency.”
With that, Greg fell back to mingle with the rest of their squad, leaving the three acolytes on their own.
“His argument is valid, we should drop this topic.” Aelia admitted, and took off ahead of them, with a distant look in her eyes.
With their conversation brought to a solid stop, Alan decided to ride up alongside Marissa, as she had been unusually quiet most of the ride.
“How is the horse treating you?” Alan asked.
“My butt is killing me.” Marissa answered through clenched teeth. “How far away are we from Sinewood? Also, isn’t it a bit pretentious to name a village after your own family name?”
“Heh, I guess it is a bit strange. I think we’re about a third of the way there.” Alan guesstimated, based on his previous trip to Cal’s family farm.
“Ugh… I hate this…” Marissa said, leaning forward while trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Can’t you just, you know, take a break and heal the bruises?”
“Nu-uh, my mentor would skin me if he found out. The divine blessing of healing, a grace only given to the truly faithful, to grant comfort to your pained butt?! A mockery of the gods!” Marissa gesticulated and mimed while talking, a sliver of good mood returning while mocking her mentor.
“Hehe, right, I get it. I’ll ask if we can take a small break.” Alan said, understanding of her pain, as he had experienced quite enough of it himself while learning to ride.
“Yes please, please, please do!” Marissa exclaimed.
“Alexander, I need a word in private.” Aelia approached Alan, as he was lying down resting. It had been easy to convince the others to take a small break once they realized that their healer wasn’t feeling too great.
“Uhh.. Ok,” Alan answered while getting up. He followed Aelia a bit away from the others, unsure what this was about.
Once Aelia decided they were far enough away from the others, she steeled herself, taking a deep breath.
“Have you ever thought about us?” She asked, her gaze steady on Alan’s. “About the life that has been planned for us, the future we didn’t choose?”
“I have thought about us, yes, but only in the sense that I am aware that we are betrothed. The wedding will not take place for years yet, I believe, so why bother worrying about it?”
“Perhaps because it’s not just a wedding, but our lives,” Aelia responded, a slight tremor in her voice. “It might be years away, but it’s a future that’s being crafted for us.”
“Our lives are happening right now, not in some distant, uncertain future.” Alan answered, taken aback by the accusatory tone he felt from Aelia. “Frankly, I don’t have time to brood about what may or may not be my life years away from now, I have more important stuff to think about. Besides, our country might soon be at war with the Syrodin Empire, anything could happen. Why worry about it now?”
“You’re right, the present is important. But just because you don’t want to think about our future doesn’t mean it’s not worth considering!” Aelia’s tone is sharp and frustrated. “Are my feelings so insignificant to you? Do you even care about this arrangement, or am I just a distraction from your important stuff?”
“What do you want me to do? I can’t change our arrangement, I didn’t choose this anymore than you did! Why are your feelings about this so important? What difference does it make what you feel about it right now, when there’s nothing we can do about it anyways?”
“What I want is some understanding, some empathy! Not you cold dismissal, Aelia snapped back, her voice more than loud enough to reach the rest of the party, and realizing this, she lowered her voice before continuing. “Yes, we didn’t choose this, but it’s happening to us! Do you not see how your indifference can hurt? Or is that too insignificant for your grand considerations?”
Alan paused, trying to understand where Aelia was coming from, and not quite finding it.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to make this easier for you. Just try not to think about it too much for now, and then we’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to deal with it, so you’re asking me not to think about it. It’s not that easy, you know,” Aelia responded, anger simmering in her voice. “Not everyone has the luxury of brushing aside the future.”
“Deal with it when the time comes?” She continued. “Just like you’ve dealt with it now? With ignorance and nonchalance? Perhaps that’s your way, but it isn’t mine. I don’t have the power you do, the freedom to brush it off.”
Aelia turned away before Alan managed to get a response in, her composure shaking and threatening to unravel.
“I had hoped,” she threw over her shoulder as she was walking away from him, “that you’d be more than just an arrogant child. That you’d understand. But it seems I was wrong.”
With that, Aelia left Alan standing there, confused and chastised, reprimanded for something he couldn’t fix.
Alan slowly made his way back, head full of thoughts, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong in their so far quite limited interactions.
He really believed that there was nothing to gain by thinking too far ahead, and had made his peace with the arranged marriage long before he met Aelia. Of course, he had been curious about her for a while after learning of their arrangement, but had decided to let it lie, as overthinking it would do him no good.
There was also the very real risk that one or both of them would perish in their future mission or the potential upcoming war. Any number of things could drastically alter their future, so why worry?
Alan pondered the questions as he walked back, and soon they were back on the horses, continuing onwards to Sinewood.
Sinewood was a town by strict definition, as it had both a small church and a relatively small keep. But to Alan, it looked more like a loose collection of haphazardly built houses in various states of disrepair, with only the keep and the church in any serviceable condition. There were vast farmlands around, with small farm houses dotting the landscape here and there.
As the group ventured up the main road towards the inn that would be their base of operations in the area, they were met with suspicion or outright hostile looks from the local population, who seemed poor, distraught and malnourished to Alan’s untrained eye.
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The Inn was barely large enough to house all of them, and they were split up into four different rooms, with Aelia and Marissa getting a room to themselves. The state of the rooms matched the general impression Alan had gotten of the town, and he was uncertain as to whether he would sleep better on the ashes of the bed than the real thing. A small controlled burn to sanitize every surface of the room wasn’t that bad, was it?
After having deposited most of their belongings at the inn, they split up and went to work. Greg went to the keep to speak to their local guard contact, both to report their arrival and to get the latest updates on the local criminal activity.
A few of the soldiers were tasked with guarding Aelia, as she took a trip around the town to speak to the locals, while a few stayed behind in the inn to guard the horses and their belongings.
The rest went with Marissa, Cal and Alan to the local branch of the church, where Marissa set up shop and offered healing to everyone in need. The word quickly spread, and soon there was a sizable queue of people impatiently waiting in line to get healing, and Marissa had more than enough work on her hands.
“How often do towns like this get visits from healers?” Alan asked Cal discretely off to the side, while Marissa treated a burly man with a large gash across his left arm.
“Rarely. They usually come by once or twice a year, and they seldom announce their presence the way we did today.” Cal answered.
“Then how do they treat their injuries normally?”
“Most injuries heal on their own, Alan, given enough time. A fact often forgotten by the one privileged with easy access to healers.” Cal gave Alan a meaningful look.
“Besides that, the local church representative sometimes helps the ones in greater need with travel arrangements to Patros, if they are young and the injury severe.”
“Sounds rough…” was all Alan said, aware that both his upbringings were in sheltered and rich environments, compared to most of the world, but what about infections and diseases and similar? A farmer’s life seemed dangerous considering the lack of access to medical care in this world.
In the evening, the group gathered at the inn, over a hearty meal, to discuss the day and their findings. Greg quickly took control of the discussion.
“I have reported our arrival to the local guards, and have acquired a list of potential hideouts of bandits operating in the vicinity. Unless you have any major findings, I suggest we work our way through the closest locations, and reassess the situation depending on what we find in the first few locations.”
Aelia spoke up, with an attempt at a confident voice. “I have asked around town and talked to the locals, and have discovered that at least one group of brigands have been targeting farm houses south-west of here, demanding protection payments from those who can pay, and kidnapping the children of those who can’t. As far as I heard, they have hit three families in the last two weeks, and so far two children have been taken. We should focus our effort in the vicinity of these farms, as there might be a chance to rescue the children before they are transported elsewhere.”
Greg seemed somewhat annoyed by Aelia’s suggestion, but did not interrupt her.
“I believe that the goal of the outlaws will be to either extort the parents for whatever they are capable of paying, or outright selling the children as slaves.”
“But slavery is highly illegal? Where would they be sold?” Alan asked, aghast at the possibility.
“Yes, it absolutely is, so they would have to transport the children to either the Syrodin Empire or further, which is a significant logistical task. This is why I believe we still have time to save the children. It would make little sense in killing them outright, economically speaking.”
Greg spoke up at that. “Speaking of economy and logistics, the burglaries of local war stockpiles and raiding of caravans are higher priority crimes than the rescue of a few children. We shouldn’t bring our sentimentality into the threat assessment of the local criminal activity. I say we stick to the original plan, cooperating with the local guards, and matching priorities with our nation’s interest.”
“If we want to cooperate with the local people, we need to earn their trust, and rescuing their children will garner far more goodwill than protecting the property of the King!” Aelia answered angrily, staring defiantly at Greg.
Greg stared back, unflinchingly. “We have clear orders and priorities. We follow them, work with the local guards, and do our jobs as ordered.”
Aelia was shaking slightly under Greg’s glare, but did not falter or look away. Just as she was about to start shouting at him, Marissa spoke up loud and clear, surprising Alan with the strength and defiance in her voice .
“I am going to go look for the kidnapped children. I’d gladly accept company on the way, but I’ll go alone if I have to.”
As no one present had any authority to order acolytes of the church around, Marissa effectively put a stop to the entire discussion, earning a murderous glare from Greg, but a warm and thankful smile from Aelia.
“We will of course accompany you, Miss.” Greg answered between clenched teeth, immediately getting up and leaving the table in quick and terse fashion.
“Wow, I ain’t seen nobody stand up to the sergeant like that before, I’m impressed.” Mark said, earning a beaming smile from Marissa, and a more reluctant but genuine smile from Aelia.
“Just, ehh, keep in mind the saying about old soldiers, yeah?” Mark said as he got up to leave himself. “He’s not only old and stubborn, he’s lived for a bit too, you know? Just saying…”
They were off early the next morning, going towards the location of the last known kidnapping. When they arrived, Aelia took responsibility for talking with the distraught family, while the rest were looking around the farm and local vicinity for anything that could lead them to the bandits.
They didn’t learn much from the visit, so they went about visiting other nearby farms and victims of the bandits. They only managed a few visits per day, as the farms were fairly spread out, and had no luck on the first few days of searching.
The lack of success clearly grated heavily upon Aelia, who’s mood plummeted by the end of the third day.
“What are we supposed to do?” She asked out loud on the way back towards the town. “Someone has to know something about them, so why won’t they just tell us?” she asked, frustrated.
“Because they fear the bandits more than they fear us?” Mark asked.
“Because they don’t know what will happen if we find the bandits, but they know very well what will happen if word gets around that they’re helping us find said bandits.” Greg supplied.
“We are the unknown factor here, and people look after themselves first and foremost. This is a waste of time.” Greg grumbled, clearly annoyed.
Aelia didn’t let up, however, and her persistence was rewarded the very next day. While Aelia spoke to the head of the house on a new farm they visited, a farmer named Willis, Marissa had taken it upon herself to entertain the four year old daughter of the family. As they were playing hide and seek around the farm, Marissa had complimented her on how she must be the best in the world at hiding, and the young girl had said that the men playing hide and seek in the old ruins of a farm nearby were almost as good, because only she had found them so far.
The moment Marissa asked Willis about the nearby farm, however, he became guarded and defensive, stating only that it was an old farm that had burned down several years past, and had been abandoned ever since.
The remnants of the farm known to the locals as Old Rorick’s Stead, was barely recognizable as decrepit husks of farm buildings. The group had gathered in the outskirts of the woods nearby, and were studying the place from a distance.
To Alan, it looked exactly like the farmer, Willis, had described. A small collection of old, burned down and abandoned buildings. Nature had quickly retaken most of the fields around the farm, but the outlines of the fields still hinted towards the impressive size of the plot of land. It seemed strange to Alan, that the farm had been abandoned after the fire, rather than rebuilt.
With some imagination, one could see that the buildings would probably have been quite impressive, especially the main house and the main barn, or what Alan guessed them to be, anyways. But he was looking at mostly charred pieces of wood barely holding together, with practically nothing rising higher than a meter towards the sky.
It seemed impossible that an entire gang of bandits were hiding within the ruins, as there was no obvious shelter to be found. The only thing in somewhat serviceable condition was a main road leading up to the group of buildings, which seemed to be hard packed dirt that had seen extensive use, but that also bore signs of nature’s reconquest.
“It does seem quite abandoned.” Cal said from beside him. “Are we sure this is the place?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Aelia answered, sounding both tired and concerned. “Let’s go have a closer look.”
“Wait,” Greg said, holding up his hand to stop them from moving out. “If this is indeed the temporary shelter of a group of bandits, we should approach this with caution. I suggest I go over with Paul to investigate first, no reason to place the rest of you at unnecessary risk.”
Aelia thought about it for a moment. “Alan can go with you.”
Alan turned to Aelia, wondering where she was going with this.
“With all due respect, Miss Aelia,” Greg began, though his emphasis clearly showed how much he thought there ought to be of that. “ I believe it’s better if he doesn’t accompany us, as this might be very dangerous.”
“I understand that, but he is by far the strongest mage out of all of us, and he can take care of himself in a fight. Besides, I do think it’s important that you bring someone who can think outside the box, and he seems to be good at that.”
“I’ve never even been in a fight, I’m not sure what you are expecting of me here.” Alan said, uncertain as to Aelia’s motives.
“You’ve brought that chainmail everywhere up until now, haven’t you? This will be a good test to see if it’s worth carrying around. And I’m expecting you to find the bandits, so chop chop, get to it.”
Aelia seemed to be in a strange mood, and Alan couldn’t understand where this was coming from. Marissa and Cal seemed to be equally lost for words.
“Don’t worry, Alan,” Marissa stated with confidence. “We’ll come running immediately if we see that something goes wrong.”
“No, you won’t.” Greg said, as a matter of fact. “You will stay right here, no matter what happens on that farm over there. Squad, small perimeter control, all directions. Don’t let anyone near that ain’t us, let the arrows do the questioning if anyone refuses to keep distance.”
Then Greg turned to Marissa, with a serious look. “Miss, for your own safety, and that of my men, please stay here with them. Can you do that for me?”
Marissa bit her lip and squinted her eyes, looking up at the imposing and experienced soldier.
“Ok, but only if you promise to bring Alan back safely.”
“I promise. Now Alan,” Greg turned to Alan, who was in the middle of equipping the chainmail, which was a bit of a process.
“Good, that should provide at least a modicum of protection. But don’t don that red dress again, please, it stands out like a sore thumb. Put on these oversized rags instead, that should make you less of a target and more of a laughing stock, which is much better for survivability, trust me.”
“Understood, Sir.” Alan responded automatically, and accepted the large and slightly dirty jacket from Greg’s hand, which easily fit over his chainmail. He felt like a pack mule, with too much clothing on, and he assumed he would have a serious risk of overheating in the relatively warm weather, if not for his ability to control his body temperature at will.
“Don’t Sir me, kid, and listen here. In the event that there actually is someone here, I’m a merchant looking to buy the.. eh.. farm land, Paul is my bodyguard, and you’re my mute son. Understood?”
Alan finished putting on the jacket, then nodded his head exaggeratedly to show that he understood.
Once Greg was satisfied with their preparations, they set off towards the remains of the farm.
On the way there, Alan loaded the broad arrowheads into his latest prototype of a railgun. This one had capacity for five arrowheads mounted after each other, but this design meant that the first projectile had a much shorter “barrel” before it left the railgun than the last one, which made it significantly slower when powered with the same current. The result was a somewhat unreliable accuracy at range, as none of the five shots behaved exactly the same, but on the plus side, he could fire the railgun five times in a row before beginning the awkward process of reloading new arrowheads into it.
“What is that thing?” Greg asked on the way, curious about the strange metal contraption Alan fumbled about with.
“It’s a railgun.” Alan answered automatically, as he was loading the last arrowhead into it.
“A… raygun? Which is what, exactly?”
“A rail-gun. It’s… uhh… a magical weapon.”
“Never heard about mages using magical weapons before. What does it do?”
“Think of it as a crossbow.”
“Hmm.. I can kinda see it, I guess. I just don’t understand how exactly it’s supposed to work.”
“Well, hopefully, you won’t get a demonstration today.” Alan said, nerves clearly audible in his voice.
“You’ve never fired that thing at someone, have you?” Greg asked, skeptically.
“Of course not!” Alan answered quickly, “That would be… murder…”.
Alan was aware that there was a large gap between the theoretical knowledge that he could use his weapon to defend himself, and the actuality of aiming it at another human being and pulling the trigger, so to speak.
He had a clear idea about the kind of damage his weapon would do if it hit anything, and was not at all eager to see it in action. And still, he felt safer with it in his hands than without, even when he didn’t want to ever use it.
It was ironic, in a sense, because to Alan, it was a deterrent more than a weapon, a bit like most nuclear weapons were built while hoping they would never be used. But the railgun would probably never work like a deterrent, because no one would recognize it for what it was.
“Yeah. Maybe just put that away and stick behind us, kid. No reason to get your hands wet here.”
Upon closer inspection, the buildings were significantly larger than they seemed from afar. There was also more than Alan had thought, with obvious remnants of at least several smaller buildings surrounding the main house, and what he guessed was the ruin of a large stable next to the barn. But his observation that the few short walls still standing would give poor shelter against the elements was still correct. It didn’t seem possible to live among the ruins.
“It seems empty, alright.” Paul commented as they were closing in.
“There’s nothing here, but we might as well have a look around to satisfy the girls’ curiosity.”
Alan walked around on the outskirts of the buildings, looking for any sign of recent activity. He realized that he wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, but walked all the way around anyway, to see if he spotted anything out of the ordinary.
Having no success, he walked back into what constituted a small square in front of the main house ruin, where the other two were looking for signs of life.
“Found anything?” Greg asked, while searching through the burned out husk of the main house.
“Nope.”
“What was all that about thinking outside the box?” Greg asked with a hint of accusation in his voice.
“I don’t know… Well, there might be something I can do, give me a minute.”
Alan closed his eyes and spread out his senses through his aura. He felt the presence of both Greg and Paul next to him, and focused on the ruins around him. They seemed just as devoid of life as the air above or the ground below… Wait, the ground below wasn’t just dirt and rocks.
“There’s a cellar.” Alan suddenly said, eyes still closed, his senses focused on feeling out the hollow he had discovered below ground.
“What? Where?” Greg turned to him sharply. “How do you know?”
“I can sense it below us.” Alan said while opening his eyes, focusing intently on the ground.
“I can only sense a small portion of it right below us, but there’s a corridor leading into the main house.” Alan followed the corridor above ground, into the ruins of the main house, where he had to climb over several small walls until he found what looked like a small cleared part of the ruin.
“It ends just below here,” Alan pointed to the small clearing, but didn’t see any obvious trapdoor among the charred wood and ashes.
Greg came over and started brushing away the ash on the floor, until he realized it wasn’t ash. “This floor is painted black…”
Fiddling around, he found the outline of a trapdoor, and he eventually found a latch, which he tried to open. “Ugh, it won’t budge. Get over here, Paul.”
Even with Paul’s help, the door would not open. Alan strained his senses to figure out what exactly the problem was, and quickly found that it was barred from the inside. He also discovered a person moving around down there, and chastised himself for not noticing earlier.
“There’s someone down there.”
“Really?” Greg asked, suspicious.
“Should we just knock?” Paul asked.
“Why on Gaia’s green earth would they let us in if we knocked?” Greg countered.
“It’s polite to answer when someone’s knocking. They don’t know who we are.”
Alan tuned them out, focusing on the person below. It was a grown man, of relatively large stature, and he was apparently standing very still, just below the trapdoor.
“I think he can hear us.” Alan said, carefully.
“Well, nothing to it then.” Greg said, before kicking at the trapdoor a few times.
“In the name of Lord Sinewood, open this trapdoor!”
After a short wait, a small hatch in the door opened, and a voice was clearly audible through.
“Are you here representing Lord Sinewood?” a deep male voice asked, suspiciously.
“Yes.” Greg answered.
“Do you have new orders for us?”
“...Yes.”
“Alright, pass them through the gap.”
Greg paused at that. Considering his next words carefully.
“We were only given the orders vocally. You are to release the children to me immediately, and cease all activities in the area until further notice.”
“Passphrase?” The voice asked simply, not at all reacting to the supposed order.
“...” Greg seemed to be lost for words, before he clearly made up his mind. “Look, I wasn’t told about any fucking passphrase, so I don’t know jack shit about that. What I was told about, was that some stupid fucking idiots hiding underneath a trapdoor in the middle of fucking nowhere, had the brilliant idea to kidnap the children of a family with a relative in the Royal Fucking Academy of Magic. So my job, as I was told it, was to get the fuck out here as fast as humanly possible, and make sure the children got home safely before the entire town of Sinewood is burned to the fucking ground by the mage looking for his relative’s children. So… Do we have an understanding here?”
Silence reigned for a bit, as the tirade had come to a close. Alan was very impressed by the improvisation from Greg, and hoped it sounded equally convincing to the man listening underneath them.
“I’ll… uhh… have to talk to the boss about this.” He replied eventually. “Wait here for a bit.”
The man below them started walking away, without closing the hatch again. Greg looked meaningful to Alan, and mouthed a quiet “follow him”, so Alan did just that, following the man’s steps from above ground. He estimated that the cellar was dug out about half a meter below ground, so Alan had no trouble keeping the bandit within his aura’s range.
The bandit turned after a few meters, and kept walking until he was below one of the smaller house ruins surrounding the main building. Here, Alan noticed the presence of several other people. If he focused on it, he could notice through his aura that mouths were moving below him, but he had no idea what was being said, so he spent his time investigating all the presences he could sense.
There were 5 in total within the room, including the man they had spoken to. All five seemed to be adult men, by their size and stature. Alan also took his time trying to feel out the room around them, and the equipment they were carrying. Three of them carried short swords of some kind, but one was clearly equipped with a crossbow, which he had just picked up and started loading.
“I don’t think they’re buying it.” Alan said, loud enough that Greg and Paul could hear.
“One of them is preparing a crossbow now.”
“Shit,” Greg said, looking critically at his shield. “This thing can’t stand up to a heavy crossbow. We’re leaving, right now.”
“Wait, one of them is moving.” Alan said, as he started following one of the bandits out of the room.
He went in the direction of another one of the smaller houses, and when he arrived, Alan sensed the forms of two children, huddled together in a corner of the room.
“The children, they’re right here!” Alan said, pointing to the position of the room underneath him.
As Alan frantically started looking for another trapdoor, several things happened in quick succession. The tired squeak from a poorly maintained hinge sounded from across the square, in the ruins of the house Alan had sensed the group of bandits, and Greg shouted out a command that Alan didn’t have time to process, as he turned around and saw a man rising out of the ruins and lifting a crossbow.
The bandit holding the crossbow was obviously well prepared, as he quickly assessed the three people before him, and turned to aim at Greg, who he obviously deemed to be the highest threat.
Greg was also well prepared, or at least quick in his reactions, as he quickly ducked down behind the low wooden walls making up the outline of the ruins of the main house. Paul had understood what Greg shouted, or just had similarly quick reactions, as he also ducked down and hid behind a number of thick wooden beams.
Alan however, was not as quick, and when the bandit realized he didn’t have a clear shot at the two largest threats, he quickly turned and aimed towards Alan.
Alan felt fear overwhelm him, and simultaneously tried to step backwards while lifting up his hands in surrender. The bandit, however, had no plans of taking prisoners, and fired his crossbow just as Alan tripped over a beam.
As Alan fell backwards over the beam, he felt absolute terror as something impacted his upper left shoulder, just before his back hit the hard floor.
The seconds that followed felt like minutes to Alan, as he tried to catch his breath and understand what had just happened. Looking at his shoulder, he noted that a short crossbow bolt was lodged in it, but there was no pain yet, only the realization that he had been shot. It was like watching himself in third person, and Alan stared, fascinated, at the bolt that had pierced his chainmail and shoulder.
In the background, Alan vaguely heard another squeak from a trapdoor, and wondered if it was opening to emit more crossbow wielding people. He also heard more shouting from Greg, but it felt distant and muted, somehow, and he didn’t worry too much about it. After all, why was that more important than the bolt sticking out of him?
It wasn’t until Greg violently lifted him up over his shoulders and started running, that Alan finally started feeling his body’s response to being shot; an incredible amount of pain. Alan screamed out loud, desperate for the pain to stop, but it only grew worse, and being jostled around while Greg was running under him didn’t help in the slightest.
As they closed in towards the trees, another crossbow bolt flew past them, close enough that Alan thought he could feel the air being displaced by the bolt. Then they were in the forest, hidden from view by the lush green life around them.
As they finally found the others, Alan lost his grip on reality, falling into a semi-conscious state, where he barely recognized any activity around him.
He heard a familiar voice screaming his name, and felt someone fussing over him, but didn’t catch the details of what was happening. With his vision swimming, he found it difficult to focus on anything, until he saw and felt a hand trying to work the bolt out of his shoulder. Pain overwhelmed him once more, and he screamed his lungs out for a second or two before a hand clamped down over his mouth. Alan struggled and squirmed, but was fighting with only one arm against a much stronger opponent, and didn’t manage to get away.
When the bolt was finally removed, Alan briefly lost consciousness. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking up at his daughter’s worried face.
“Em… Emily… How? How are you-”
“Shh.. Alan, go back to sleep.” Emily said, her warm and soothing voice a stark contrast to her worried expression.
“I don’t understand…” Alan tried to continue, but felt weak and light headed, and he fell quickly back into the comforting darkness.