“Attention, maggots!” shouted a tall, muscular man wearing the white robes and armor of Ironheart Fortress’ army. His bulging muscles pushed at the seams of his clothing and even against his chainmail vest. “Today we introduce our new recruits to what it’s like to fight against the Sworn Enemy!”
Artyom and Neitra stood in the back row of a group of several dozen soldiers, dressed in similar clothing. The dirt kicked up by the other warriors stained the shins of everyone’s white pants, but nobody seemed to comment on the trouble they’d have to go through to clean them later. With how intensely their apparent superior officer was barking, it was obvious why nobody dared.
“As the Neonate Company, your job is to stay in the back and gain levels until you can really put up a fight,” continued the man at the front. “And as your Sergeant, it’s my job to keep you all alive! So that means I don’t want to see you running at the enemy and get your head cut off! So tell me Neonate Company, what do you do if you see an enemy?”
“Stay back, Sir!” shouted all of the soldiers around the duo at the top of their lungs. Neitra was caught off guard by the sudden noise, but it was something Artyom had gotten used to from his previous military experience.
“Correct!” shouted back the Sergeant, somehow sounding even louder than the crowd around them. “We’re going to join up with the other Companies now and head into No Man’s Land for another taste of combat. We’ll be staying in the back so we get a good look at what’s going on and start gaining those levels. Understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” shouted the soldiers again. This time Neitra was prepared for their outburst and shouted alongside them.
“Excellent, soldiers! Neonate Company, move out!”
At his words, the soldiers began to haphazardly march together, tailing their sergeant in a rough square-shaped formation. Artyom and Neitra followed at the very back of it, trying to match their steps to those of their compatriots. They all passed through the wide opening in the fence surrounding the dirt field out into the streets.
The mostly-organized flock made their way down the dirt roads to the fanfare of the townsfolk they passed by. The soldiers basked in the cheers, but kept up stoic facades. Even Neitra mimicked the others, mostly.
Soon, they approached the towering walls and passed through the gates, out into a massive stretch of badlands that extended well beyond the horizon. Short rocky outcroppings and sparse vegetation struggling to make an existence for themselves did plenty to paint the land as one where one had to fight for the right to live. And that didn’t exclude the troops, either.
As the company of soldiers made their way across the badlands, they were met with several other groups wearing the same uniforms. They merged together, the others taking their positions in front of the neonates in a defensive formation. Soon, the soldiers numbered in the hundreds, all marching together to face their enemy.
“First time marching?” asked another soldier to Artyom and Neitra. He slowed down his own pace to walk alongside them. “It’ll be a while until we make it to the border, and then we’ll be seeing some action!”
“I thought we were supposed to stay in the back?” asked Neitra. The duo wouldn’t be able to sneak off easily if they were caught up in the middle of the battle, after all.
“Yeah, but we’ll get to see the fighting!” replied the soldier cheerfully. “I heard that if you practice something while in the middle of a fight, you earn levels in it! I know the sergeant told me I’m going to be a swordsman, but I brought along a slingshot so I can hopefully get an archer or ranger class. And I can at least try to hit the Sworn Enemy’s forces instead of just standing here.”
The two regarded the young man with polite, yet disinterested expressions. Artyom figured that getting to know him would help pass the time, at risk of him looking for them when they decided to slip away. He gave Neitra a look that carried over his concerns, but she returned her own that seemingly assuaged his fears.
“Oh yeah, I’m Dill, by the way!” The soldier extended a hand to the two, which they shook in quick succession. “The march is going to be pretty hard on you two if it’s your first time, but I guarantee you’ll get the [Soldier] class once you’re back in your bunks tonight. It always comes with a marching Skill too!”
“Thank you, Dill,” replied Neitra, not entirely facetiously. “That information’s really useful. So why did you join the army?”
“Well, my parents were part of the army and fought against the Sworn Enemy when they were younger, that’s where they met actually, and I thought I’d take up the fight too! Maybe I’ll get to meet my own special someone?”
The droll conversation continued for a long time, with Artyom chiming in with his own questions and answers from time to time. Eventually, after two and a half hours, the conversation died down as the battalion slowed down and a horn blared from the front.
“Alright, I see the mossy hill and river inside a small canyon in the distance,” whispered Artyom to Neitra. “Those are the landmarks Rugul told us about, so it’s time to break off.”
“Hold on,” replied Neitra, looking towards Dill.
“You’re not actually thinking of staying here to fight, are you?”
“Of course not!” she replied indignantly. “I just need to activate… [Noticed Presence]. There, let’s go!”
Already being in the back of the army, the duo had little trouble getting away from the rest of the group. Neitra’s other Skills and abilities that further cloaked their presences didn’t hurt either. Soon, they were clear of the others and made their way down the side of the small canyon to the flat surface surrounding the river below.
“What was that Skill you just used?” asked Artyom. “I’ve never seen you use it before.”
“Rugul isn’t the only one leveling up from all of this!” she cheerily replied. “[Noticed Presence] makes it seem like I’m standing next to whoever I target with it, even if I try to sneak away from them. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to use it with how sneaky we normally are, but I’m glad I finally got the chance to put it to use!”
“Yeah, that is convenient. Speaking of Rugul, where is he? He was supposed to meet us out here to show us the way in.”
“Right behind you, buddy.”
Artyom nearly jumped out of his own skin as he pirouetted and cast his full suite of combat spells, only to put down his raised arms when he saw it was Rugul standing behind him.
“Ha! I finally got you!” exclaimed the assassin, pumping his fist in an uncharacteristically open display of sheer victory. “You didn’t see me coming this time, and I got the drop on you!”
Artyom responded with an incredibly annoyed glare. “That’s only because we just got here, you know. I haven’t had the chance to lay down any wards yet.”
“Yeah, it’s rare to catch you so vulnerable, so I hope you’ll excuse me for relishing the moment.”
“Yeah, yeah, when you’re done basking in the enlightenment of your own intelligence, could you show us this secret entrance?”
“Sure, just follow me. I can enjoy myself on the way there.”
The trio made their way down the flat dirt path beside the river for several minutes, until they reached a large, metal pipe jutting out from the ground. Lightly colored water flowed from it at little more than a light dribble.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Alright, this is the exit to the sewers,” said Rugul, motioning the duo towards the gray structure. “Just follow it up along the walkway and you should reach a ladder that leads to the center of the courtyard. You can’t miss the chapel, which should be on your right. The main castle will be in front of you and the main exit to the grounds behind.”
“Thanks Rugul, you’ve been a big help,” replied Artyom, unbuttoning his army fatigues to reveal the stolen assassin robes underneath. Neitra did the same, while also pulling out a hood from their bag.
“Don’t thank me until you’ve destroyed whatever it is that’s keeping you away from your friends,” retorted the assassin. “Don’t forget that the real mission is tomorrow.”
“We won’t,” said Neitra. “What will you do now? Are you going to be coming with us?”
“No, any more than two assassins travelling together and they’ll think we’re a squad. None of which are supposed to be coming back today, so they’ll ask questions. I’ll just keep watch out here or something.”
“That’s fine, you’ve earned yourself a break,” said Artyom with a smile as he pulled the pitch-black hood over his face. “Anything else we should know?”
“Yeah,” replied Rugul. “The sewers are going to be full of other assassins, but they should let you pass if you’re dressed like this. Maybe nod at the less-stealthy ones to show you’re high enough up on the food chain to be left alone?”
“Yeah, I can do that. Thanks again, Rugul.”
The assassin absentmindedly waved at the duo as they entered the metal pipe and into the Dark Lord’s sewer system. Several steps into the structure, and the light from outside seemed to stop following them in. The application of their darkvision abilities mitigated it for the most part, but still left them feeling uneasy as the nauseating smell of raw sewage mixed with the trickle of adrenaline in their veins. Lucky for them, they didn’t eat a large breakfast.
As they continued down further, the tunnel seemed to expand, with several large branching pipes intersecting the one they were walking through. Once in a while, the duo were able to make out the presence of several assassins hiding in the branching paths. A quick nod was all that was needed to get them passage, and sometimes not even that. Their stolen robes did their job, as Rugul had promised.
Eventually, the two reached a large, circular room with a single ladder at the center. They scaled the iron structure slowly, making sure they wouldn’t be ambushed, and eventually reached the top. Artyom pushed aside the wooden covering and revealed a world of sunlight and green. As they exited the sewers, the duo saw themselves in the middle of the Dark Lord’s fortress.
They stood in a grassy courtyard, surrounded by all manner of buildings. Just as Rugul had said, a foreboding castle made of dark stone lay in front of them, while their true target was to their right. A small building made of spotted white stone stood apart from the castle, inconspicuous enough to not garner the attention of anyone who wasn’t specifically looking for it, when there were much more eye-catching structures around.
“Looks like that’s our target,” said Artyom, scanning his surroundings with a careful eye. “I’m still not sure this isn’t going to end in an ambush.”
“It will if you talk like that,” pouted Neitra. “Let’s just be careful as you normally like to be, and we should be fine.”
Artyom nodded as they made their way to the chapel at a casual pace. The fresh air and gentle sunlight were a world of difference from the dank sewers, and the duo made sure to fill their lungs with the surprisingly sweet air from a nearby flower garden.
“You know, I expected this place to be a lot more…” began Neitra, fiddling with her hands while thinking of the correct word.
“Dour?” suggested Artyom.
“Yeah, dour. I was expecting lots of black and red, skulls, and the like. You know, like what you’d expect from a Dark Lord.”
“Yeah, same,” nodded Artyom. “But some of them happen to have a sense of style, like this one apparently.”
“It’s still so unexpected.” Neitra sighed before putting on a cheerful smile underneath her black hood. “But that just means it won’t hurt our eyes as much when we bring this place down!”
Artyom chuckled, nodding in agreement.
They soon reached the front of the chapel, regarding the comparatively humble stone facade. After a quick circumambulation to confirm there weren’t any traps or magical detection spells applied to the structure, the duo headed inside.
The building’s interior consisted of a single, large room. The front two-thirds were made up of a flat floor covered in diorite tiles similar to that of the cathedral, with several rows of pews covering most of the surface. Further ahead was a large, raised platform featuring a podium and an ornamental fountain behind it.
“You know, I was wondering,” muttered Neitra. “What does the Sworn Enemy need a chapel for? This place really reminds me of the goddess’ churches, with how everything looks.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” replied Artyom. “It makes sense, when you consider that he’s part of the goddess’ scheme. This is probably where he gets his orders from her.”
“Then couldn’t we be caught by her?” asked Neitra, in a tense whisper.
“I thought the same thing too, but you remember what Yama said about her.” Artyom paused where he was and looked around the room for any hint of the goddess’ presence. “I don’t see her signature white-gray glow anywhere like in that dungeon, so we might be safe, seeing as how she apparently needs others to do everything for her, even keeping an eye on us.”
Neitra let out a sigh. “That’s true. Let’s just do what we came here for quickly and get out of here.”
“Way ahead of you,” replied Artyom, as he began to search the room more thoroughly. “First let’s make sure there isn’t anything here that could make things problematic for us. Hidden weapons, traps, or anything that could let the Spymaster get away after we show up.”
“Right, I’m on it. [Detect Traps]!” Neitra’s skill went off with little fanfare, as would be expected from a rogue. “There are a few, and they seem to all lead to the podium there.”
Artyom walked up to the structure in question and uncovered a hidden panel. “Here we are,” he said with a sly grin. “Can you work on disabling these traps, but make it look like they’re still active? Maybe keep the simplest and least deadly still working in case the Spymaster decides to test it out?”
Neitra nodded and began to trace invisible lines through the ground and walls with her eyes, working her expertise to a level she’d never done so before. “This is going to take a while, but it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Great,” replied Artyom. “And I’ll start replacing them with our own traps.” He removed the bag from his back and took out a stack of spell scrolls, quickly riffling through them. “Let’s get started.”
Artyom lifted up several of the thin floor tiles and placed explosive scrolls on their undersides, before putting them back in place. The force of the scrolls would be enough to send the rock flying in the air, tripping up anyone underneath, but not forceful enough to break the tile itself. Next, he placed the flashbang scrolls on the underside of most of the pews. The explosion of light and sound would be enough to stun anyone close by, especially if they were sitting on them. Finally, Artyom activated Sonic Waverider and used the increased speed to jump up the walls and place several smokescreen scrolls along the lower ceiling. He’d be able to fill the chapel with thick, black smoke in an instant.
Within several minutes, Artyom was able to finish his task and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The scrolls were small and placed inconspicuously enough to not attract any attention. Even with the supposedly untainted and overly-paranoid Spymaster, he’d have to go out of his way to find them. And even if he did do that, would he even know what the innocuous slips of paper did? Artyom hadn’t seen spell scrolls used at all in this World, with everyone relying on Skills to fill the need for creating portable magic.
“Alright, I’m done,” he said to Neitra, who seemed to be just about finished with her own fiddling as well.
“Same here!” she exclaimed, shutting the hidden panel behind the podium. “I’ve left the pitfall trap around the fountain still active, since that’s one of the only ones that automatically resets.”
“Perfect, that should be everything we need, then. One more thing left to do, and we can head back.”
Artyom motioned Neitra to follow him as he made his way out of the chapel, but not before confirming that the wards he’d placed around their position didn’t detect any would-be interlopers.
“So what’s left?” asked Neitra, scanning their surroundings to make sure nobody was watching from a distance.
“The RDX,” replied Artyom, using his enhanced physicals to begin climbing the chapel’s outside wall. “Call me if someone sees us and approaches.”
Neitra nodded as she began her vigilant watch.
After some careful parkour, Artyom landed on the roof of the building, his bag placed on the parapet and ready to dispense the carefully packaged explosive compound. The volatile bricks were evenly dispersed amongst their stone brethren, far enough away from the edges to avoid detection. Unless the Spymaster was going to have someone search the rooftop, they would remain hidden. Artyom just hoped someone wouldn’t throw a fireball at the sky while he would be inside the building himself.
“Alright, that should do it,” said Artyom, jumping down from the top of the structure and landing in a roll. “I should be able to collapse the entire roof, and most of the building, with just a spell.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Neitra. “I just hope we won’t have to use it.”
“Same here, but this should just be a quick job. We can always run if another flying snake shows up. I mean what’s it going to do? Eat the Dark Lord?”
Neitra giggled in response. “Let’s head back now. I saw some people pass by, and they might be starting to get suspicious about the assassins they can actually see.”
Artyom nodded as well, and they began a brisk, yet casual trek back to the sewer entrance. They made their way down the ladder and back out to no man’s land unbothered. As soon as they exited the large pipe to the path along the river, they were greeted by a familiar voice.
“So how was your trip?” asked Rugul, appearing behind the two. “Took care of everything you needed?”
“Yup, we’re ready to head back now,” replied Artyom, not bothering to look back at him. “Have you been keeping track of the armies? We probably won’t be let back into town if we go there on our own.”
“Yeah, I have. They should be passing by here in a few minutes, actually,” said Rugul, slightly miffed at his attempt at spooking Artyom falling flat.
The duo quickly removed their hoods and donned their army uniforms again, making sure none of the black fabric underneath was peeking out. As soon as they had finished, the thunder of hundreds of footsteps could be heard coming from the distance. As if they were waiting for Artyom and Neitra to return, Ironheart Fortress’ army came marching back along the same path they’d taken earlier that day. With minimal effort, mostly thanks to Neitra’s party-wide stealth Skill, the duo made their ways back into place, the rest of the army none the wiser.
“One heck of a battle, huh?” asked Dill, several hours later as they were approaching the fortress’ gates.
“Yeah, totally!” exclaimed Artyom with false exuberance.
“Too bad we didn’t actually get to see any action,” replied Dill, dejected. “But it looks like you did, with how bad you two smell. But don’t worry, you won’t sweat as much after you get that marching skill!”
Later that night, Artyom and Neitra lay in their beds at the inn, each having taken a long shower upon their return. While it was able to wash away the smell, Artyom still felt dirty inside, reflected by the quality of his sleep. He tossed and turned, once again vaguely mumbling about events long past.