Riva and Roland ran as fast as they could to the Northern edge of town. A growing commotion filled their awareness as they drew closer. Steel clashing with steel, feet rapidly moving across the ground. Several members of the city guard were already engaged in combat against a large band of assailants. They appeared to be a mix of bandits and mercenaries, lowly people armed with weaponry they should have no means to possess. Riva drew her sword, quickly taking stock of the situation.

“Roland, you need to go back and warn everyone,” she ordered.

“But, what about-” Roland began, but Riva immediately cut him off.

“We can handle this, someone needs to make sure the townspeople evacuate safely,” Riva said. “Have them flee to the South. Can you handle that?” Roland’s eyes flitted between Riva and the continued fighting. He wanted to fight alongside her and the other guards, but he understood that he was needed elsewhere. He nodded his understanding to Riva before taking off back to the centre of town. Riva watched him go for a moment before jumping into the fray.

“Evacuate! We have to move!” Roland shouted, bellowing as loudly as he could while he ran. His goal towered over the rest of the buildings in town. He would surely be admonished for his plan, but it was the only way of getting the entire town’s attention. The roughly hewn stone construction of the church’s steeple loomed above him. He tried the doors of the church, but they would not budge. His arms and legs bulged with effort, but the door was barred from within.

He looked up to the apex of the tower. If he could not get up there from inside, that left only one option. He ran to the side of the church, where the ornate inlays for the windows gave him more options for handholds. He leapt as high as he could, grabbing onto the stones that formed the church, and began pulling himself up. Reaching the roof was a relatively easy task, but the real challenge still lay before him. Steeling his resolve, he began the climb, trying to find the most obtrusive stones for his hands and feet. It was slow going, but he made steady progress. His knuckles were white from excretion as he grabbed onto ever more precarious handholds. He could not stop, even as his fear increased with every inch he climbed. Failing was not an option.

Just as his grip threatened to fail him, his hands finally closed around the upper edge of the tower. He pulled himself to standing. All that stood between him and his goal was some wooden shutters that he easily tore from their setting. With all his might he struck the brass bell before him. It swung away and back, tolling loudly. He kept feeding it momentum, the ringing growing louder and more insistent. People quickly came outside to investigate the noise.

“We are under attack! We have to evacuate, to the South, now!” Roland shouted, struggling to be heard over the bell. Those closest to the church could make his words out and like wildfire the news spread. He could not help but swell with a bit of pride in his neighbours as they ran to each other’s doors to make sure they could all escape safely. Slowly a crowd began forming that moved South. Roland ducked into the tower, taking the staircase within back down to the ground. From inside he could unbar the door and exit the church.

“Son, what is going on?” a familiar voice called out. Roland quickly spotted the baker and ran over to him.

“A gang of bandits are attacking us from the North,” Roland explained, grabbing the baker’s arm and dragging him forward, encouraging him to move. “Riva and the other guards are fighting, she asked me to evacuate the town.”

“You should go help her now,” the baker said. “We lot will be alright, but those closer to the fighting might have trouble leaving their homes safely. Go take that weight off the guards’ minds so they can concentrate on their fight. I will make sure everyone from here escapes safely.”

“Understood,” Roland said. “Thank you. We will meet again soon.” The baker nodded, giving Roland an encouraging smile. The young man turned and ran back North, not even a moment’s hesitation standing between him and the danger they faced. As he ran he passed by more people exiting their homes, warning their neighbours, and beginning their evacuation. He made sure as he passed to remind them where to go and to make sure everyone was able enough to escape.

Before long he reached the fighting. The guards had lost ground, and the bandits were well into the streets by now. Roland ducked into buildings just before the fighting line, making sure they were empty and breaking down several doors in the process. Some families he found cowering in the darkest corners of their homes, unaware of what was happening. He escorted them out and made sure they got to a safe distance from the commotion.

Roland could hear screams of fear beyond the fighting line. People were in danger, and the guards were completely overwhelmed. He could not listen to Riva’s orders anymore. He had to do something. He climbed onto the roofs of one of the houses, and jumping between them he moved over the fighting to the rear of their attackers. A few bodies were strewn about. Most of them bandits, but a few wore the all-too-familiar armour of the city guard.

The sight twisted Roland’s stomach, and his knees buckled as he voided the dinner his father had made him. His head was spinning, and every glimpse of the scene before him threatened to make him even more ill. He had known from the day he started his training that he would need to experience death in many ways, but it was never as real as at that moment. He forced himself to take a deep breath and rose to his feet. He went to one of the bandits and took the spear that had been in his hands. He was more familiar with the weight and handling of a guard’s sword, but he could not approach one of those bodies.

Another scream from a nearby building drew his attention. He took off, refusing to let another body fall to the ground. He burst through the door, finding two bandits brandishing weapons over a mother trying to shield her son from their bloodthirst. Roland swung the spear as hard as he could directly towards the closest bandit’s head. At the last moment, Roland rotated the hilt in his hands, striking the bandit with the flat side of the blade. He spun the spear around and drove the bottom of it into the abdomen of the second bandit, who hat turned to see what happened to his comrade.

“Run, quickly! Head East till the town is far away, then go South to meet up with everyone else,” Roland said. His eyes were locked on the bandits, who were slowly regaining their bearings. “Go!”

The woman picked up her child and dashed out of her home, with Roland short on her heels. He kept moving, listening for any hint of a civilian in distress. The fighting had progressed deeper into town, but by now nearly everyone had evacuated.

“Leave her alone!”

Roland spun violently, directing his body to the source of the noise. He ducked into an alley between two ramshackle homes, where a young boy stood tall before three bandits. Behind him, an even younger girl was on the ground, her crying eyes squeezed shut and her legs tucked to her chest.

“Looks like we got ourselves a soldier, lads,” one of the bandits snarled. “How’s about we show him how we treat soldiers.” The bandit lifted the axe he wielded above his head. Roland had to act quickly. He reared back with the spear and threw it. It sailed through the air, colliding with the axe and knocking it out of the bandit’s hands.

“You heard the boy, leave them alone,” Roland said.

“That was stupid,” the bandit replied. He pulled a dagger from his belt. “You’ve got no more weapon.”

“I never needed one,” Roland replied, raising his hands.

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“Oh, if you want to threaten us with magic, you should do a better job,” one of the other bandits said. His hands became cloaked in flames. The third waved at Roland, the ground around him visibly cracking with each movement of his hands. “We prefer to get our hands dirty, but we don’t mind this much either.”

Roland narrowed his eyes. He was probably in over his depth, but the fear in those two kids’ faces gave him all the reason he needed to stay where he was. He bolted forward. Almost immediately he was showered with flames, but he dared not stop. It was not his first time suffering an attack like this, after all.

The fire bandit’s smirk quickly turned to shock when from his flames, Roland burst forth, crashing into him with enough force to send him sailing over the heads of the children. Roland kept pressing the attack, ducking low against an expected axe swing and punching into the groin of the second assailant. He buckled from pain, and Roland went to attack the third, but he quickly found himself falling to the ground. Pain radiated from his ankle. The earth had taken shape around it, locking him to the ground.

There was no time to waste trying to think. Roland had to move on instinct. He slammed his hands into the ground, throwing his body into the air. He came to a crouching position and slammed his fist down on where the ground wrapped around his leg. Cracks radiated through the earth, and he sprung forward with all his might, breaking free from the confines and smashing into the man that had caged him. He drove the bandit into the wall. When he looked around, the children were gone. They had run away when they had the chance, and Roland did the same. He knew by now everyone had escaped, died, or was beyond his ability to save. The only thing left for him to do was to find Riva and do everything he could to help her.

The combat had become fairly spread out, parts of it already reaching the centre of town, while others were locked near the northern outskirts. Roland dashed between the streets and buildings, searching for his mentor. Where he could he used his speed to knock some bandits over, but he refused to let it slow him down. More bodies lay strewn about. Every step he took his fears grew. In a side street, halfway to the center of town, they were realised.

“Riva!” He shouted, coming to a sliding stop next to her.

“Good, you are still alive,” she said, smiling weakly.

“Come, we will get you to the priests,” Roland said, putting an arm under her shoulder.

“Roland, stop,” she wheezed, grimacing from pain. “I am beyond the help of the church.”

“No, they can help you,” Roland pleaded. “Riva, come on. We have to go.”

“You have become such a fine young man,” Riva said, putting her hand on Roland’s cheek. She wiped away one of the tears that formed. “You could not believe how proud I am of you.”

“Riva, please, stop this,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I… I still have so much to learn from you. I am not ready yet!”

“Yes, you are,” she said. Her head fell back to the ground. “You are already so much stronger than I could ever be. Training you has been the biggest honour of my life.” She reached to her side, lifting the blade she had fought with for her entire life. It glinted with silver and scarlet. She pressed the handle into Roland’s chest. “You can become the greatest warrior this world has ever known. I know you have it in you, and if you want it, then that title is yours… but…” Her breathing grew laboured.

“But what? Riva, please, what?” he asked.

“But… I want you to be happy,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, wherever you go, please promise me you will be happy.”

“I… Riva, I am sorry, I… I should have been here,” he said.

“Please, Roland,” she asked. “Promise me you will find happiness for yourself.”

“I promise, Riva,” Roland choked out. He took the sword in his left hand, his right still holding hers. “I am sorry.” Riva gave him a pained smile. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words ever emerged. The light in her eyes faded, and her fingers went limp in Roland’s hand. He could not move. As war raged behind him, he was locked in that moment.

“Oi, looks like someone beat us to it,” a voice behind him snarled. He remained like a statue, only his lips moving to utter his words.

“Did you do this?”

“Who else would’a did this?” another voice squawked.

“You are murderers,” Roland said. It wasn’t an accusation or a shocked exclamation. It was a simple statement of fact.

“None of us would be here if we wasn’t killers,” the first voice said.

“Good,” Roland said. He placed Riva’s hand over her chest and gently closed her eyes. Gripping the sword tightly, he stood.

“Looks like the boy wants’a tussle,” the second voice said. Roland took a deep breath, moved the sword from his left hand to his right, and waited. The voices behind him kept up their mocking attitude and belittling words. He ignored them. His ears filtered out everything, save for a single sensation. The moment he heard the light scraping of a footstep, he spun around and dashed forward. With no time to react, the first bandit had no choice but to watch him close the gap in an instant. A silver steak arched through the air as Riva’s sword slashed through his chest. Roland followed with the swing till the tip of the blade was aligned with the second bandit. He ran forward, skewering the man and pinning him against the wall. The first bandit tried to lift his spear to block the next incoming attack.

Roland tore the sword out through the side of his first victim, spinning around and bringing it down on the last bandit. He put his spear’s hilt between himself and the incoming blade, but it splintered like a twig under Roland’s fury. The man dropped to the ground as blood spilt from his skull. Roland looked back into the alley one more time before running to the town centre. It did not take long for him to find an opponent.

A hulking man with a club as big as a tree stump stepped in front of Roland. He unceremoniously swung the club, aiming to crush Roland. Roland quickly rolled to the side, dashing forward and slashing the man’s legs. He cried out in pain, swinging wildly behind him. Roland could not dodge in time, and he sailed through the air as the impact knocked the wind out of him. He crumpled onto the ground, coughing and wheezing.

The giant limped closer, lifting the club once again. Roland’s body and soul cried out together, pain wracking all throughout him. It was enough to make any man fold, but something else within Roland eclipsed the pain. Pure, blind fury coursed through his veins. He staggered to his feet, right as the monster swung down. He lifted his arms above his head, catching the blow. The hit echoed across town, a thunderous crack as the club splintered in half over Roland’s arms. The giant’s eyes widened in shock, sealing the final expression on his face as Roland lept into the air and slashed his throat. The giant tumbled to the ground, Roland landing deftly on his feet. He examined his limbs. His chest hurt, but his breathing was otherwise unmarred. Around him, the guards had gained the upper hand. It seemed that with the fall of the giant, the bandits lost their will to fight, and quickly began to retreat. The guards cheered as they watched the bandits run, but Roland could find no joy in their victory.

After scouring the town to make sure no bandits were hiding away, the guards invited the civilians back into town. Everyone with the stomach assisted with the cleanup. Bandit corpses were dumped in a deep pit some ways out of town. Guards and civilians were laid out on blankets in front of the church, for their next of kin to claim. Roland and his Father stood over Riva’s body.

“We are no longer safe here,” Gerald said. “That accursed war is too close to us.”

“We could never have anticipated this,” a new voice said. Roland and Gerald turned to see the head guardsman, a man named Liam. “Riva was an excellent warrior. She saved many lives today.”

“What do we do now?” Gerald asked. “We barely survived this time.”

“We need an audience with the King,” Liam said. “It seems that we have lost more ground on the Northern front than they have led us to believe. We need reinforcements to keep our town safe.”

“The King would never grant an audience to some backwater town this far North,” Gerald scoffed. “We would be better off asking the enemy for mercy.”

“He might not grant an audience,” Roland said. “But what if we were to earn one?” He walked a few steps away to the announcement board. On it a poster waved in the breeze, one emblazoned with scarlet and gold. Roland took the poster down, studying it.

“Roland, are you suggesting…” Gerald began.

“Riva told me that I could become the best fighter in the kingdom and that I needed to train in the capital,” Roland said. He drew the sword from his waist, gazing at himself reflected in the steel. “If I am to do either, then this is the first step. I will win this tournament, I will gain an audience with the king, and in exchange for enrolling in his army I will have him send reinforcements here.”

“You can not sell yourself into this war, Roland!” Gerald said. “I can not lose you as well!” Roland approached his father, wrapping his arms around him.

“You will not lose me, Father,” he said. “I swear. I will come home.”

“This is quite the mission, Roland,” Liam said. “But if half of what Riva said about you is true, then I believe you can do this.”

“I can,” Roland reiterated. He looked down at his mentor. “I will prove her right, and honour her memory.”