Breadcrumb

The Minstrelian countryside had a different smell compared to the ones in Fiore. There was a raw arid perfume of grass, very different than the sea breeze hinted aroma of the Hargeon plains Tim always passed whenever he drove along his old delivery routes. The stern Minstrelian beech littered beyond the roads looked like emerald wool sprouting along thin and thick bronze trunks, a far cry from the silver stems of birch back home. Tim was thankful those weren’t the trees they were hiding from, those thin finger-like trunks trying to grasp the sky, else their chance of infiltrating Vale, one of the towns in North-eastern Minstrel, would be close to impossible.

“The Day is breaking,” A metal armored individual spoke softly, enunciating her Minstrelian accented words. “We will take a few minutes for rest.”

Behind a towering tree and a rock sloped downwards to the town’s namesake vale rested a whole squad of Minstrelian volunteers led by a member of the Vanguard battalion. Tim was the odd one out among them. Sporting only his armor Servant, a literal cat-person themed Butler outfit, and a plain looking sword sheathed beside him, Tim had not garnered a crumb of respect from the military unit he was accompanying.

Tim had been in Minstrel for a week: two of those days he spent in the Minstrelian harbor town inn he was arranged to stay and wait for the military representative who hired him. Another two days was spent briefing him for his mission and traveling to the closest strategic point where he was introduced to the unit of volunteers. The railways were a wash, the skies were more dangerous when you don’t have the flying machine capable of maneuvering against the anti-aircraft measures of the Desiertans and there were hired mercenaries littered around the Eastern Minstrelian area, so, the next three days were them trudging between enemy camps and patrols until they arrived to where they were now.

The Minstrelian volunteer unit Tim accompanied were twelve clueless civilians who looked like they fitted more in the coal covered factories of urban Merazúr rather than in the countryside trudging to fight invaders. Even the relieved sigh some of them showed as they set aside their faded flak jackets as they sat down to rest were a dead giveaway how rushed their deployment had been, they look like they were taken fresh off their work-hours. In fact, from the way Tim observed how they interacted, even with the language barrier, it looked like they were actual co-workers.

Tim did not hold it against them, had Tim been slightly late in becoming a member of Silver Wolf? He would have been unwittingly thrown into the conscription camps for the war effort, for all he knew.

Him being an outsider was a rather glaring issue for them, however. Whenever the opportunity rose, Tim would often feel them talk about him. The young man didn’t know a lick of Minstrelian and they took full advantage over that.

“Fiorean.” Oh? Where they finally going to address the boiling issue between them? “Why are you here?”

Tim opened his mouth to answer the question, but nothing came out. The Musketeer Vanguard, instead, cleared her throat shutting the volunteers up. She then spoke quickly, albeit softly, in Minstrelian.

Tim looked up at the shadow of the tree they took shelter from. How should he answer? He was a country away fighting a war he appeared to have no stake in, siding with the allies which would potentially leave him pitted against the Fiorean Rune Knights themselves. To the Minstrelian natives, he was either a Covenant spy or a Fiorean traitor. None of which incited trust for them in any way.

“You do not have to answer, Fiorean.” The Vanguard sighed from inside her helmet. “I told them the Comandante vouched for you, that should be enough for them.”

This war was a tense situation for them, all of them. Tim could feel it. Even the Vanguard wanted to hear what Tim had to say. But it seemed her more honorable trait won out. Their home was being razed and he was being stingy about something as innocent as his reason? This didn’t sit well with Tim.

“Hargeon.” Tim scratched his cheek as he started. “Hargeon Town was my home for a long time.”

Surprisingly, the volunteers kept an ear his way, though most of them pretending not to listen outright. One of the volunteers Tim heard ask ‘Hargeon?’ which was answered with ‘La ville…’ by another. Even the Vanguard turned her metal helmet slightly, clearly listening in.

Tim let out a breath.

“My friend told me, there had been rumors about a slave ship around the town. I was told these were the cause of kidnappings that happened lately.” Tim spoke slowly, making sure they all understood him. “I haven’t been living there for a while. I had no idea. But my friend had someone find out where this ship was and how to stop it-”

“These slave ships, what flag did they fly?”

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t there when Edna- when my friend talked to the investigator she hired.” Tim clicked his tongue. “But she told me, the ship had reportedly docked in Joya more than a few times.”

“Non!” One of the volunteers exclaimed. “The Blood Troupe?!”

Tim didn’t answer. There were a few gasps and mutters from the once silent half of the volunteers, it was an answer well enough for them. The Blood Troupe was one of the infamous slave syndicates which plagued the mountainous borders of Joya, Minstrel and Desierto. There were a few talks about it in the public, the more notorious Ring of Blood was one of its more audacious sub-groups. The Minstrelians, especially, were very familiar with these sorts of syndicates.

“My friend asked me to look for their source, and stop them.” Tim finally said.

“Is this why the Comandante sent for you?” The vanguard asked.

“That, and my friend knew people. Some of them belong to a minor Minstrelian house.” Tim looked at the vanguard. “Them, and you, who guard these Eastern regions know better than I how these groups operate.”

“I do.” There was a venom in her voice Tim didn’t want to dip into. “You came, on behalf of your friend, then to help-?”

“I came because there were people from my home who were taken away. I don’t know where they are now. I don’t even know if I can save them.” Tim looked down. “If I can’t? I can at least find whoever took them.”

“Oui.” One of the volunteers say.

Most of them gave a chorus of approving grunts and nods Tim’s way. One stepped closer and gave him a hard pat in the shoulder. It was the same sort of pat Tim’s old co-workers would give. Tim stood up, answering with a resigned smile. The tense atmosphere between them dissipated completely. They were on the same page now, for once.

“Is this your first time being in our land?” One of the volunteers asked.

“Unfortunately.” Tim opened a flask one of the volunteers tossed his way and drank some water. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever been to another nation.”

“In all your years of being a Sorcière? A wizard?”

He had been a member of his guild no more than just a few months. But they didn’t need to know that. “A lot can happen to someone, even just working in Fiore. It can be-”

Their conversation was halted by an ugly bassy crash resembling a thunderclap, except the early day skies painted a marriage of dark blue and orange. Little to no clouds were in sight. Tim closed the flask and crouched low behind the rock, fastening his sword back over his hips. The vanguard was already standing low behind him while the volunteers were still clamoring over wearing their vests.

“Wolf.” Tim called.

Without warning, Asena, Tim’s guardian wolf companion materialized beside him. The astral wolf stood taller than a horse, though she was keeping low behind the rock, same as them. Her ethereal blue flame wreathed as she huffed Tim’s way, as if asking ‘what is it now?’

“La vache!” “Putain- what is that?!”

It became one of the few things he found some degree of fun with, seeing the different reactions of people seeing his companion appear out of thin air. To the vanguard’s credit she didn’t even flinch, though Tim couldn’t look inside her helmet. Her helmeted head moved forward, creeping up over Tim’s shoulder. She was waiting for his lead, it seemed.

Right. Tim let out a breath and took out an item from his pocket: a simple ball of thin white string. Both the vanguard and his companion were silent as Tim slowly untangled the string as much as he could. “We don’t know what caused that explosion, Wolf. I want to know what we’re dealing with.” Tim muttered as he continued untangling more of the string. After a few seconds, Tim was left with a very long string which was being slowly blown by the wind.

Tim heard the Vanguard let out a soft ‘Euh’, finally gaining the courage to speak her mind. “What is the string for?”

“We’re flying a kite.”

The town of Vale was, well, in a vale. Between the piercingly green lathed and white tipped northeastern Minstrelian alps and the thin azure river reflecting the cloudless early morning skies, Vale looked like a cozy town. It was not a rising star of infrastructure, it seemed. It kept its voice and agreed with the nature around it. Vale was a town of old stone, its attempt at keeping up with the modern era consisted nothing more than colored bricks and the single row of power lines connecting to civilization. Tim would have loved to live here if not for the remnants of fire and smoke, shadows of a battle having concluded fairly recently. And from the misplaced mountains of sand and brown earthy pillars between the broken cobblestone streets, it looked like the opposition did not put up much of a fight.

As if on cue, a patrol of soldiers who do not belong in this town, no- this nation, were sauntering along as if they were residents on a morning walk. Two of these soldiers had a weaker magical signature, almost nonexistent. The remaining two were superior, magic wise, and it showed: The latter two each had a jet-black snake draping over their bodies like an ornate scarf. The snakes were completely relaxed too, not moving a muscle as they slept around their master’s bodies. A bronze-colored monster resembling a lion sprouting wings and a human-like head was walking beside one of the stronger looking soldiers while the second had a copper-colored arachnid the size of a truck alternating its legs, pacing along. No other patrols were around which was visible.

So, to summarize, the immediate threat were two non-magic users, two beast tamers, two black snakes, a truck-sized spider and a sphinx. And whatever was the source of the earlier explosion.

“Right.” Tim halfheartedly muttered as he purposefully dropped himself from the sky landing two hundred meters down beside the very same rock they hid just minutes earlier. The vanguard looked his way.

“I…have never seen magic being used in such a fashion.”

Tim, casing the spell ‘Pancake’ to flatten himself paper thin, was then tied by a string and flown like a kite with Wolf pulling the string from the ground. “Impressed?”

“Surprised.” She answered.

“Monsieur Sorcière!” One of the volunteers cut in, the nervousness in her voice was glaring. “How was the town?”

“I didn’t see any civilians.” Tim paused, noticing one of the volunteers slump back. “But the guards are minimal, I don’t think they’ll be expecting company.”

Another few of the volunteers came to their slumped ally, while Tim didn’t understand them, he knew they were comforting the slumped one. Was this town relevant to them? But before he could ask, the Vanguard cleared her throat catching his attention.

“The frontlines of this campaign are southwest of us.” The vanguard started. “A small town over the edge of contested territory, kilometers away from its nearest strategic point? Being left with uninterested soldiers is commonplace, even in our ranks. A target not worth our time, or so they seem to tell themselves.”

“I’ll go inside. See if your Comandante’s intel was right and get out quick.” Tim said as his guardian wolf walked back towards them with an unimpressed expression. “All of you stay here, there might be reinforcements.”

A gloved hand over his shoulder kept Tim from standing up, it was the Vanguard. “I will go too.”

“These guys’ll need a leader. Keep them in line.” Tim looked at the volunteers gripping their rifles, while they weren’t outright shaking, they were far from ready to storm an enemy occupied area. The vanguard looked like she was going to object further. “As much as I’d like to boast about being a fairly good magic user, I’m as much of a rookie as them when it comes to war.”

“Then you will need my assistance even more-”

“On the contrary,” Tim shook his head. “If I go there alone, it’ll be like going into another bandit camp.”

And these were not a hastily and hollow strung words either. Courage was equal parts seeing the problem and pitting yourself against it, and equal parts lying to yourself that what you were doing is not as important as it seemed: No, he was not infiltrating a military strategic point to gather information for a war between nations older than he was a thousand fold. No, he wasn’t a mercenary hired to go against the alliance his own nation fought under, fighting for a conflict which potentially concerned the lives of millions. This was a town littered with unwelcome bandits. This was a town whose residents were taken to slavery; their livelihood used to supply the very people to pillaged their peaceful lives away from them forever. This was the Joyan town, this was Quanny village. This was something Tim was completely familiar.

With a few measured steps, hiding and kiting around one ruined house and shops to the next. Tim found himself near where he had last seen the patrol. Sure enough, they were completely relaxed. The two non-wizards were stretching while the two others were sitting by the edge of a stone fountain. The town square they were lounging around was not the biggest Tim had seen, but it was the most ruined one he had seen in his life. There was hint of iron in the air which made the young man frown.

Tim let out a breath as he summoned four of his summoned spears of light. This was a spell he stole the idea from a Wolf deity he fought once. The spears materialized overhead of his targets. The two mages were the first ones to notice them, but it was already too late: Tim slammed the spears into them! The two wizards were being skewered; the spear cut through their necks splitting their respective snakes through in one stroke as the two clutched their necks keeping the blood from spilling. Two down, two immobilized. The sphinx’s throat was stabbed through, preventing it from roaring while the spider was now three legs short from one of the dropped spears of light guillotining its limbs off.

There was only the matter of the two non-mages. No sooner than a fraction of a second the spears of light ambushed the unsuspecting patrol, Tim was already dashing towards them, sword in hand. Tim threw his sword tip first through one of the non-wizard’s throats and pulled the remaining enemy with ‘Grav-à-tête.’ The helpless Desert Warrior was helplessly laid into Tim’s open hand, choked to submission as the young man help him by the throat with one arm!

“Keep quiet.” Tim ordered the Desiertan as he was being dragged along. Tim was walking towards the other now kneeling warrior clinging to dear life as the Iser-smithed sword kept being lodged in their throat.

Tim coldly pulled the blade off. “Five.”

The truck sized spider tried to steal a wild swipe with its sharp legs while Tim pulled the sword out, but he simply used the other warrior as a meat shield. To the arachnid’s credit, it didn’t even flinch, ramming its limb through in hopes to skewer Tim along with the sacrifice. “Six.” But the young man already took a measured step aside, then used the butt end of the sword and slammed the arachnid’s leg broken! The spider howled a short sharp garble, and Tim promptly conjured a crystalized ball of light and threw it underneath the monster. Before it realized what had happened, the ball detonated and blades of crystalized light pierced the arachnid from below.

“Seven.” But then Tim noticed his astral companion was kicking the sphinx’s lifeless body aside. “Eight.”

There’s no time to hide the bodies, not with how messy Tim had done the job. He needed to find the intel. He grabbed one of the Beast Tamers by the neck. “Your commander’s office. Now!”

His answer was to spit on Tim’s face, a mocking toothy smile came afterwards. Tim moved his thumb from the side of the Desiertan’s neck down into his gaping neck wound, slowly pushing his thumb inside. The man choked. “The office.” Tim pressed harder inside the bloodied hole. “There won’t be third time.”

The Tamer’s eyes slowly shifted from defiance to a slight tinge of fear. The man slowly raised his finger, pointing at one of the buildings. It was an inn, with a pub at the bottom floor. Tim ripped his finger off the man garnering a garbled scream from him.

Tim stopped as he faced the direction of the inn. He took a deep breath, taking in the iron smell and the unpleasant aroma of the monsters’ viscera. Tim then huffed and spat. “I don’t feel like myself today.”

There was an unwritten time limit over Tim’s unconscious. He wanted to find the kidnapped people of Hargeon Town. He wasn’t there for them when the kidnappings happened. He should have. Now he was paying the price of his little delay, and it’s eating him slowly. His unsubtle display of cruelty over them was unprecedented, the only time he was this cruel was when Tim’s curse took over. He wasn’t hearing the little whispers of Erebus, but this sadistic streak was eerily similar. Tim’s thoughts were then taken over him noticing the bright sun overhead. It was already morning proper, and Tim’s body was basking in the light. His magic, absorbing the sunlight like a dog treat, was intoxicating, even more so after a fight.

Tim walked slowly towards the inn, taking his time eating the lost mana.

Bodies of beast masters were slumped, sitting and laid across the tables. They were snoring. The pub had the after smell of a good night; it looked like they had quite the party. Tim walked past them as quietly as he could. His astral companion was guarding the entrance. Beside the pub counter, there was a large wooden staircase running up and towards the back. The inn above was quiet, save for a single source of muffled sobs. It came from one of the rooms. Tim, as quietly as he could, opened the source’s doors. Tim’s eyes widened.

Rusty chains clattered as a young Minstrelian around his age recoiled into the stone corner of the room. His unkempt blonde hair and moist golden eyes were the only visible parts of his body, the rest he vehemently covered with a red curtain. The very same looking one from the window beside Tim. The young man’s expression changed from utter fear, to confusion then, finally, hope in under a second from him looking at Tim. He spoke in Minstrelian.

“Where are the others?” Tim crouched, pulling the young man’s foot. He actively flinched, but showed the cuffs when he noticed Tim was trying to find a way to break it.

“You are Fiore?” He spoke, it looked that was the extent of his knowledge in Iser.

“Fiorean, but yes.” Tim sighed, and pulled out his sword.

“Non! Please!”

Tim dug his sword through one of the chain links, forcing them open to free the young man. The blonde Minstrelian let out a sigh of relief. Tim looked at him as he sheathed his sword and offered a hand. The Minstrelian looked like he was a word away from bawling, but he took Tim’s hand and grasped it tightly. “I know this is a stupid time to ask, but do you know-”

Tim’s jaw locked, and he was sent flying across the room! Everything felt like a daze, but another blow to his face shook him back to proper consciousness. It was a man slightly older than Tim, and it showed. He hit like a truck! Another blow struck before Tim could respond with sliding his head away, only dodging his head aside on the fourth blow, following it up with breaking the man’s arm as he tried to pull back the punch. But the man’s gauntlets prevented Tim from dealing a meaningful blow.

The man grabbed Tim again and tried to throw him across the other side. But this time Tim was prepared. He conjured a crystalized wall of light before he was launched. Tim fell daintily before clocking the man with his own haymaker. The next set of blows were completely textbook, but none of the two bothered to block or dodge. A body blow, another one to the head and more than a few over their faces. Tim gnashed his teeth together while the Desiertan brawler spat out blood.

“For a Fiorean wizard, your punches are passable.” He gave an eerily similar toothy smile to the one Tim had just interrogated outside. “But I will not allow you to have your way with my dear Minstrelian friend here.”

Tim kept silent, waiting for anything. He knew the prejudice Desierto had over magic and wizards, but his magical signature was revealing him to be one hell of a hypocrite.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” He walked over to the blonde; the young man recoiled similarly to how he did when Tim entered the room earlier.

“No. I’m going to hand him to the other Minstrelian either way.” The three of them heard gunshots from outside. What?!

“You didn’t think I didn’t notice you when you attacked my patrols?” He sneered. “My friend, I know-very intimately-how powerful my men are.”

“My dear Fiorean friend,” He licked his chops. “You are a glaring blip over my domain. You, with your very dominating magic signature.”

Tim was only paying attention half of what the man was saying. The Vanguard and the volunteers were fighting for their lives, and he was nowhere near them! His worry had been heightened when he head his astral companion’s distinct howl whenever she casts her albitites.

“I’ve got no time for this-” Tim tried to punch the Desiertan again, but unlike earlier the man countered Tim’s jab with a textbook technique the young man only found in one of the high-level fighters back in the cages. On top of his magical potential, he is a martial arts expert? Tim didn’t like his odds with this man, even if he didn’t know how powerful his opponent was as a wizard.

“From the way you changed your attitude, you have little faith your comrades are going to win against my men.” He smiled. “You are a terrible commander.”

“Who said I was-” Another blow from Tim and he was sent outside the room into the smooth wooden hallway.

“It is alright. I will take good care of you like my Minstrelian friend.”

Tim shook his head, then the image of the young blonde earlier flashed in his head. That red curtain draped over his body did not look like there was anything else he was wearing. The thought made Tim frown as he stood up. He let out a breath as he cracked his knuckles. With a measured step, Tim dashed in front of the Sand Raider. He feinted a punch and drew his sword in a single stroke, nicking a vertical wound off the Desiertan.

His opponent answered with two consecutive heavy blows, only one had Tim been able to dodge. But this time it was different. His fists were heavier. Tim trusted his sword forward, but then suddenly forced the Desiertan to block with his arms when Tim slammed his sword down into a downward vertical swipe. The blade didn’t even reach the man’s metal gauntlets!

“Glass?”

“Very astute.” He answered.

Tim answered by giving a quick flurry of slashes, something the man easily blocked aside. But not a moment later blood dripped from his back. “Huh?” Tim didn’t give him the time of day and stabbed him in the abdomen. Two of Tim’s spears of light were protruding over his shoulder like wings as the man’s unflinching smile morphed into a glare. “You-” Tim kicked him across the hallway into double doors at the end.

“Minstrelian!” Tim called.

The blonde young man’s head popped up from inside the room.

“Let’s go! Before he-”

It was hot. Tim was thrown for the umpteenth time today. But this time he could see the entire town for a few seconds before he tasted the bloodstained cobblestone floor of where, he guessed, was the fountain he fought earlier.

“Putain de Merde!” “Monsieur Sorcière?!” Tim heard some of the volunteers call.

But this had an unexpected advantage of the sun’s scorching rays overhead again. Tim stood up slowly. An arm pulled him up to help, it was the Vanguard. “What happened?”

“My magical signature was easy to spot, apparently.” Tim shrugged.

“If it is any consolation, you distracted the enemy enough for me to deal a fatal blow to one of the God-Kissed.” She patted off some of the dust over Tim’s shoulder.

“Who?”

“It seemed you already encountered another of them.” She answered cryptically. But Tim got the message well enough: the Desiertan wizard. Then there was another one around?

“You were able to take out one?” Tim quirked his brow, the Vanguard’s words dawning in a little late. “I was told you Vanguards are high-ranking mages…”

“…but?”

“No. It’s nothing.” Tim shook his head. “Glad you’ve got my back.”

She nodded, not saying anything else.

Tim let out a breath. “Now, it’s my turn.”

There were more than a half dozen wounded beast tamers left, their monsters of varying species consisting of the avian Roc, snakes very similar to the ones he had killed earlier, more of the giant arachnids and even a scorpion as big as the spider. The volunteers were doing the unenviable job of keeping them far away, shooting from different positions across the open area, taking cover over different structures and buildings. Some of the defeated monsters and tamers had gashes and cuts instead of burn marks, the Vanguard was clearly busy before Tim had unceremoniously crashed their scuffle.

Tim, however, was now walking towards the center of the conflict, basking in his Bastardized Domain of light. A Roc dove down and tried to swipe Tim’s face, but it did nothing but pass through the young man. Another monster, this time the scorpion tried to stab Tim with its needled tail, again, to no effect. This continued till he stopped between the two sides. His astral companion materialized over behind Tim as he held out a hand. Tim crystalized the rays of light facing the Desiertan raining a blade of glassy light, the monsters had their wings, legs and tails cut. The Roc fell back to the earth, the scorpion recoiled from the pain of losing its beloved tail and the snakes wriggled around trying to clasp at anything with their now beheaded form.

The tamers were decimated, impaled by the purple glass blades. What little remained that didn’t die from the impalement dropped their weapons.

Tim looked towards the inn, the remaining God-Kissed was looking directly at him, wide eyed. He sent Tim flying, that much was true, but there was a newfound fear in his eyes that made Tim think that was all he had up his sleeves, that and his martial prowess. It was proven true when Tim barged inside the inn with the Vanguard, the Desiertan was nowhere to be found. Along with the blonde Minstrelian.

Tim punched a hole over the stone wall when he realized the floor they were last seen in was empty.

“They could not have gone far,” The Vanguard said.

Tim knew that, but if he took the Minstrelian, there was a fat chance what they were looking for was no longer- Surprisingly, it was still there! Behind the double doors he sent the God-Kissed flying earlier was the intel they had been looking for. Everything.

Files, letters and plotted routes between the uncharted deserts of Desierto and Minstrel. There were specific letters between the Desiertan military and the syndicate he was after too, as well as letters about some of the Desiertan rich blowing the whistle about their operations. This was the fuel of them slowly expanding their operations past Joya and into Fiore. Tim could only gather so little from the minimal parts of some papers written in Iser, the Vanguard was the one who told him what had been written over the rest.

“Not counting the ones about Joya and Fiore, these are plenty.” The Vanguard’s eyes were livid as she read the letters. “This can gather even more public support for the war.”

“Does it have anything about the Fiorean incidents?”

“Yes.” She flipped over one of the files. “But their notable bases of operations are in Joya and Desierto.”

“That lead is plenty.”

Whatever doubts Tim had about his side in the war as a whole, this wasn’t going to change the fact he would have gotten less raw information if he had done it from the inside. Not to mention the red tape and backlash he would have gotten from the council had he done this with his guild’s reputation on the line.