A man walked the road, following the flow of people traveling the
eastbound path to the capital, but his destination was different. He was
concentrated solely on his own goal.
He left the road as soon as he was through the Mildoor Plains of Nadar
territory. There was a shortcut here, one that not even the locals knew about.
This man had used it before, fleeing from the kingdom's men long ago. It
passed through a forest so thick nobody would ever be able to find their way
out. There was just one path through it, which was barely noticeable. The
man had made that path for himself and his companions, just in case they
ever needed to use it. It ran beside the main road, but it was unknown to
anyone but them.
Dusk was nearly upon that forest as he crossed the treeline, when the
man's hopes were suddenly dashed.
"Hey. Stop right there."
A voice called to him out of nowhere, putting an end to his assured
escape. He stopped and waited until a creature appeared before him from the
darkness. At least, he had thought it was a creature, but it soon became
apparent that it was a man with a beast's stature.
Well-groomed was the last word you would use to describe him. The
clothes he wore were shabby. Only some of them were made of cloth; the rest
were made from a patchwork of pelts. It wasn't a look you'd see on anyone
who interacted regularly with civilization. The traveler took him for a thief
who made his home among the mountains and fields around here. He must
have stumbled across the man's path coincidentally.
"What do you want from me?"
"Oh, not much. Just stay still, and it'll all be over in a tick." At the man's
words, his companions stepped out of the shadows of the trees. Their eyes
glimmered at the promise of spoils. "Give us everything you've got, and
we'll let you get outta here alive."
"I'm afraid that would leave me in quite the predicament. I require these
for my own errand."
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"We don't care about your problems. If you don't wanna die, hand it
over."
"Oh dear. And here I was thinking this path was safe."
"Nah, you just ran outta luck, that's all."
"Luck? Yes, perhaps that's what it is," the man said in breathless
exasperation before opening his mouth to recite an incantation.
"The magpie sings a simple tune. That song flows from the heavens and
into the ears of all who stand in the way. A never-ending round. The rain-
soaked eaves. Despair from the heavens. The falling rain tastes of iron."
The moment the words left his lips, Artglyphs scattered out around him.
"Wh—this guy's a magician?!"
"Loose a quarrel! Quick, before his spell starts!" The bandits started to
panic, but they barely had time to act.
The magician scoffed. His incantation was already complete. "It is all
down to luck, just as you said. If luck is on your side today, you may even
survive." He activated his spell just as the archer finished setting his aim, his
mark fixed firmly on his target's heart. It was a sure shot at this distance, but
his certainty crumbled as an unfamiliar arrow shot out from behind the
magician. Arrowheads came raining down from the sky. With nowhere to
run, the bandits fell to the ground, turned to pincushions in the hail of fire. By
some stroke of divine intervention, though the majority were wounded, none
had died.
"Hmph. It seems you were incredibly lucky indeed."
"Y-You...You're not alone?"
"You weren't alone. It was foolish to assume I should be."
Another man stepped silently out from the shadows. Then another, and
another, gathering in formation as they stood before the bandits. Their gazes
were sharp, and they eyed the bandits like ravenous beasts.
The man was traveling alone, so where did all these allies come from?
These companions of his were clearly trained to fight on this terrain. That
much was obvious from first glance.
The head thief knew then that this wasn't a man they should have gotten
involved with. His companions were a pack of hungry wolves who roamed
the darkest shadows of this place, darker than the places the thief and his
gang knew.
The magician gave a pensive frown. "This is perfect. You can assist us.
We're all outcasts; we should be able to catch this kingdom off guard easily.
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Doesn't that sound good?" The magician's lips twisted into a crazed smile. It
was the smile of a man carrying a deep grudge in his chest, left in the dark to
age. Here, finally, his chance presented itself. His plan was folly, a challenge
posed to an enemy that would swat him like a fly, all so he could inflict a
single wound.
The fallen bandits had no right to refuse. Refusal meant death.
The man left the bandits to his companions and continued on his way.
Revenge; it was all for revenge on those who had made him and his allies
taste humiliation.
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