I awaken, as usual, in a startle with the morning sun. For once, I don't recall what bloody nightmare disturbed my sleep which is good because the day promises to be tumultuous.

I rise and clean my face with a splash of water before taking out my food. I almost pick out a piece of hard bread but think it best to treat myself and decide on a more recent, mellower, chunk to which I add a slice of smoked ham I've kept in reserve for a week.

As I eat, three human-shaped puppies show up with docile expressions that make me shiver from disgust. I pay no attention to them until I finish my meal and enhance my eyes to scout the plains. Soon, my sight falls on the moon hanging in the sky between two mountains as if the Lake is telling me the way to go.

“I loved one story as a kid, I always asked Mother to tell it to me before going to sleep.” I speak up.

“What was it about?” Uhla quickly asks, showing quite the lack of patience.

“Sh.” Rowland intervenes, causing more disturbance by trying to end hers.

“It was about a hero.” I tell them. “A boy who met Emperor Rasaec by luck as he came back from the front-lines. The Emperor saw he was good so he gave him a seed to plant and grow.”

“Is that an inspirational story for peasants?” Uhla questions intently as she leans forward.

“You know, for someone that couldn't hold back from babbling about visiting a theater in Hetlan, you sure have no ability to listen to a story.” Rowland grumbles.

“Hmph.” She snorts.

“The child dug a hole in a secret corner of his back yard, under the breeze and sun, but away from prying eyes between a rock and an oak.” I recite. “He planted the seed in fertilizer and then added water.” Heh, their faces. Kh, kh, they can't tell if you're being silly or if it's the story. “Then he sat down to wait all day with hope, but the seed did not grant him the fate to elope. It did not grow and so he left to plow.”

“It feels like you're forcing the rhymes now.” Uhla notes with a grimace. Nahl flicks her shoulder. She crosses her hands over her mouth.

“The story can be told however one wants.” I explain with a slight smile. “The boy kept a watchful eye on the seed and, week after week, took care of it. Eventually, after some months, a small sprout pierced the dirt and reached into the sky to reach the sun.” I take a bite from my loaf of bread. “From that moment on it kept growing and growing, always matching the child and then the adolescent's height as if the two shared an invisible bond.”

“Oooh.” Uhla coos, the smile she's hiding is so wide I can see her cheeks stretch behind her hands.

“It gave the boy hope that his fate rested within reach, he believed that he had to be patient and only wished to age faster. As he approached adulthood, his shoulders grew larger but his growth stopped and so did the sprout's.” I recite from memory, smiling because I can almost see Mother sitting on my bunk while absent-mindedly rearranging the straw. “As years passed, the boy turned into a man while the sprout remained as it was, thick as half a wrist and tall as he is. With life passing by, the child turned farmer forgot his dreams as a boy and founded a family, only occasionally visiting the seed to remember his meeting with Emperor Rasaec. Yet, little did he know that his dearest friend, a girl he had confided in his whole life, admired him. She looked upon him with longing and looked upon his wife with jealousy.”

“Hu.” Uhla takes in a sharp breath.

“That woman, spiteful and filled with scorn, spilled secrets to a man from outside the village who she knew little of other than that he has few scruples and even less empathy. She spoke of the seed and the sprout, she spoke of her Emperor and of her lover the farmer.” I recount, enjoying their suddenly serious expressions. “The man, held by greed and ambition, acted in that instant without allowing emotion or morality to hold him back. The woman distracted her friend with her crystalline voice and a beautiful song. He sneaked behind the oak and grabbed the sprout at the foot of the rock.”

Rowland, Nahl, and Uhla are leaning forward, taken by the story. I take a bite and give them pause to raise the tension. They nervously observe me eat without making a sound.

“She gave a choice to love her or resent her. The farmer asked if there was danger. She cried and implied. The boy, now man and her friend, rushed to the sprout only to find another man working it out. The two struggled and ripped the gifted sapling into being.” I slowly inhale to leave them in suspense. “The child, now a grown farmer, challenged the man and through flow fought for what he owned. The man, who aspired to thievery, was felled by a fist to the jaw.” I pause to let them imagine the scenery. “Angry, with a bleeding nose, the man rose demanding reparation or he'll throw caution. The farmer, dazed by the reaping of the sprout turned sapling and its branches broken on the ground, does not respond. The man raises his hand, and the adult turns into a child. He raises the seed turned sapling turned stick and realizes his fate.” I take a deep breath. “A string of pure golden flow poured out of him to link both ends of the stick and bend it backward, creating a radiant bow with which he fired one of the branches that fell during their struggle over the sapling. The thief was struck at the center of his chest by a golden branch which vanished, causing him to fall unconscious.” I pause.

“And then what?” Uhla asks avidly.

“From that day the farmer broke his friendship with the woman. He protected his village, wife, and children with this bow given to him by the Lake through its Chosen.” I reply with a smile. “It's said that no army nor Hersir or Princess ever succeeded in going past the arrows he fired with his broad shoulders, ever safeguarding the lands. The child turned adult turned farmer turned hero lived a good life and then, at the moment of his death, flew up in the warm and welcoming moonlight to enter the Lake of flames where one is never cold.”

“The moon is a gateway to the Lake?!” Uhla exclaims.

“Today it shines in broad daylight so it made me think of that story.” I tell her with a smile as I turn my eyes to the astral body hanging between two mountain peaks in the distance. “But it's just a story and I don't even remember all of it.”

“It was interesting.” Nahl notes with a smile.

“We will fight with you if it comes down to it.” Rowland says, drawing a dark look from Uhla.

“Hmph.” I exhale. “Can you expose yourself? It isn't the same thing as tying scouts up.” I tell him.

“It shouldn't be an issue if we take off the tabards, they've been aggressively pursuing us after all.” Rowland says.

“What abou...” I start.

“Uhla will carry the missives.” He interrupts.

“You're not going to stop us.” Nahl notes.

“You're free to do whatever you want.” I tell him with a shrug. “But you should gather flow from the refugees if you plan to fight.”

“You won't need it?” Rowland questions.

“I'm saturated, I regenerate flow at the same rate it decays.” I raise my gourd and show them the energy inside. “I have a good hundred-fifty or more portions, I can't hold any more than that for over a few hours.”

I raise my loaf of bread to put an end to the conversation and gather my things to head towards the mountains. Rowland and Nahl follow along like two puppies, keeping their distance and scouring the surroundings but rushing back when I get too far.

“Is that...” Nahl pauses. “That's a silhouette on the flank of that mountain.” He tells us.

I turn to indeed find a human watching at us from the distance. The figure is almost invisible but the moon's rare presence in the morning sky is making it easier for our enhanced eyes to perceive the scout.

I scour the area and manage to confirm three more presences, two of which could be animals or trees but are too far for me to judge one way or the other. I glimpse south and spot a mounted scout mid-way up a hill.

“The runaways haven't been engaged but it doesn't bode well that they found us so quickly, it implies there are a lot more soldiers pursuing us than before.” I comment. “Siegfried and the Templar won't fight to stop Nobles from escorting them back to Meiridin so I'm going to have to tell you to return and make sure they get to the pass as quickly as possible, Uhla.”

“What will you be doing?” She asks.

“Preparing.” I reply.

As she turns to leave, I place my hand on her shoulder to stop her. I glance to Rowland and Nahl, inspecting their expressions to figure out how serious they are about making a stand with me.

Nahl's traits are serious and determined while Rowland is scratching the scar on the left side of his face, a nervous sign but also one that confirms he's mentally ready to draw his sword.

“Take your tabards off now, we may engage the troops trying to cut us off in the north if they made it to the pass.” I tell them.

As they pull their light blue and white Hospitalier long shirts, I take my pouch off my back and put it in Uhla's hands while keeping my eyes locked on hers to impress on her how serious I am.

“Don't open it even if I die, don't read what's in it. Defend it with your life and, if I don't make it, make sure it gets to Councilwoman Cecil.” I tell her. “Do not even let my fiancee read it even if she orders you to hand it over.”

“What is it?” She asks.

“My will.” I reply shortly.

We leave and head for the mountains. It takes a couple of hours to find high ground and spot a location with a pass that one is obligated to go through to avoid a detour of several hours at the shortest if there's another pass.

“Any of you see any troops?” I ask.

“Not from here, but there are definitely scouts all over the place.” Nahl replies. “You will definitely reach the pass before any detachment of theirs.”

“Go back and guide the runaways to this pass north-east then.” I point at it. “I'll be down there preparing, and make sure to gather their energy.”

I slowly walk down the mountain to the pass, weaving around small streams and large rocks so as not to exhaust myself. Down there, I find a large but shallow river with trees on the banks that are more spread out than appeared from up high.

The mountain on the east and on the west are too steep to cross without flow and even then soldiers would have to take it slow or risk falling down with a high risk of death but the fact is that it is mostly open ground down here.

I search my memory for the kinetic cube construct and start meddling with the core until I'm satisfied it will almost be as good as my unstructured version. I hide a handful of these constructs in the walls of the gorge, enough to cause a landslide, with a thirty second delay.

Then, I link those constructs to a few alarm constructs down in the pass which I leave inactive for now. I go a few dozen meters deeper into the gorge and sit down with my long damaged broadsword on my lap, preparing myself for a fight.

It takes half the day for the group of runaways to arrive with their mules and the sound of marching soldiers follows soon behind them. Their stressed expressions and Rowland's tense one tells me that there are pursuers on their tails.

Siegfried and the other Templar's absence tells me he tried to do all he could to slow down our pursuers and it obviously didn't work. I send a messaging construct up my link to the alarm constructs to activate them. As soon as soldiers enter the range of these triggers, they'll activate the kinetic cubes that will cause a shower of rocks to fall.

The cleverest part of this setup is that, if the soldiers advance with disruptions constructs, the alarm construct's dismantling will cause the kinetic cube to no longer have anything to stop them from activating.

People pass me by with stiff traits. A few seem like they want to speak to me so I close my eyes. Hilda and Marie tell them not to bother me, getting into an argument with Leah.

She's so young despite being older. Rowland and Nahl move in to stand by me, facing the entrance of the gorge. Still resting? It is ironic, you need me not when I can wake to help but when you need me I cannot wake because our body is too exhausted.

It may be different this time, I won't move until I've exhausted most of my energy and it is unlikely it will be enough to stop them so I'll need you to slaughter enough of them to run.

“Is that...” Nahl trails off.

I open my eyes but find no troops in front of us. The ex-Templar is looking behind us. I turn to find that, up on the other side of the mountain to the east, is a troop of a half-dozen riders looking down on us.

Once again, lack of information defeated my tactical choices. I'm sorry. It's fine, Liz, Cecil should be able to find a path to successfully destroy Nobility with what I gave her. You don't believe that. But it gives me hope at the dawn of defeat.

“Go.” I tell Nahl and Rowland. “Lead the runaways to the west and hide to let the troops they sneaked behind us into Hetlan enter the pass. Escape when they engage me.”

“But...” Rowland hesitates.

“Today is the day the Freepath ends or is proven unstoppable.” I tell them as I stand up.

I swing my broadsword a few times, enjoying the whooshing sound made by its single edge. Enemies north, enemies south, today you wake sister. Let us hope not.

I smile and walk into the shallow stream, enjoying the cool feeling of water climbing up my ankles. I plant the weapon in the riverbed and stand facing the south with my hand extended out as I hear hooves striking the ground.

My link to the alarm constructs snaps. Rows of soldiers walk past a curve in the pass. Crack, brrkrbrrrm. Panicked cries arise as fissures appear in the gorge and boulders rolls down to crush them.

A full company of cavalry suddenly charges out from the center of the soldiers, straight at me in the stream. Their horses aren't having nearly as much trouble in the water as infantry would but it is slowing them down.

They're too spread out and numerous to eliminate all their mounts with a few air-blades and, sadly, I cannot use the lightning construct. The Exemplar may think highly of my constructs but he doesn't place the huge importance on them he would on the lightning construct because he doesn't know how good they are.

I spread out twenty portions of flow in the water and focus on it even as the riders point their spears at me, evidently planning to encircle me and then batter me down with unceasing charges from every direction.

Their shields take a golden hue and so do their chain-mails. I close my fist in reality and in my mind, causing the kinetic force of the flowing water to be channeled by my energy and sent up through the air at the riders.

As a direct result, the stream stops still and the riders are thrown back by the impacts on their shields and bodies. I hear bones snap in a cacophony as the horses had their hooves stuck in an immobile substance for a brief moment.

The mounts drop head first into the water with splashes as they neigh in pain. Each of them had at least two of their legs broken. Some of the riders are unconscious from falling head first on their helmets while others landed on other's spears and were injured.

Of a hundred enemies, not including their mounts, I have taken out two dozen at the most. Yet, they are looking at me with fear and disbelief as they panically retreat. I hear a shout behind their lines and recognize Mark's voice but not the words as my mind is utterly focused on flow.

I send out ten portions of energy to gather water and shape blades with it. Rows and rows of soldiers advance with old shields. Their faces are sweaty and expressions aggressive.

It seems like they've had an entire army force-march to keep up with cavalry going around. I sigh and channel kinetic energy to propel my water-blades out of the stream and to my right.

The soldiers link their shields and brace, a perfect reaction to counter air-blades. It would have worked perfectly if I hadn't been using water propelled by kinetic energy.

Crack. The golden blades collide with the shields and cut through them before slicing into the leather armors of the soldiers wielding them. Their entire front-line collapses in gore.

Intestines spill out as the water that made up my blades seeps out and turns rosy with their blood. The soldiers on the left bank charge at me because of their officers' impulsive reaction, many enter the stream and jump over the horses to go straight for me.

I send out ten portions of energy to knock them back as I did the riders, eliminating three dozen of them from the fight by shattering their shields and bones, killing some who had the misfortune of being struck in the skull by the wild kinetic force I release from the stream.

The rest of the soldiers on the front-line bring forth their swords and lion step over the water to strike me with one pair after the other. I activate my perception construct to extend the second I have into ten and release twenty portions of flow in a fog to seize control of the air.

As I can't deal with them all using air-blades because of their staggered formation, I decide to do something akin to what Duke Meria did to deal with me and the Rykz but less deadly.

I use unstructured energy to make tiny round spiky seeds of hard air and launch them at the group, peppering them in hundreds of projectiles. The soldiers, because they held their shields out to be able to strike me, receive them full on.

Most lose balance in mid-air and tumble into the water with bleeding faces and hands. A handful manages to stay on course to hit me but all it takes to deal with them is to gather the spiky seeds that fell and launch them to intercept them.

The last of them drops screaming into the water. I inject more flow into my surroundings, causing those that should have followed up on the assault to pause with fear on their faces.

Yet, suddenly, my opponent's eyes brighten and cheers arise from their disheveled ranks. It should have taken at least a few breaths for them to recover from being bashed so hard and their morale shouldn't be so high.

Their eyes are looking past us. I snap around to look behind me. There is an entire company of cavalry equipped in chain-mail with reinforced shields moving through the pass with sabers in hand.

As they move south through the pass, I glimpse a column of archers following with their flanks protected by heavy infantry armed wearing chain-mail and cuirasses to protect their chests.

These may not be of better quality than mine but are still much harder to pierce. Air-blades won't cut it, not unless I spend four or five portions on each and there are more of them than I can take out with flow.

I turn back south to determine if I can eliminate this detachment first but I find that the riders have retreated and that Marks is about to send a tide of soldiers that occupy the entire width of the valley at me. Liz, can you make it through? No, this pass is now... unescapable.

– Arc 03 End –