Soooo....I know that it's been QUITE a while since my last update and it wasn't even for "Remember Me Fondly" (though the next one will be). By way of explanation, the simple reason is procrastination. Sure I had exams and some real-life drama going on, but there were definitely days where I could've been working on the chapter when I had nothing else to do.

I can't promise updates will be any better in the future, but I can promise that I'll still be working on these stories, BOTH of them. Hopefully the chapters that I do manage to pump out, you guys/girls/robots will still get a kick out of.

On that note, the next few chapters will be for "Remember Me Fondly". The reason for this being is that I'm only three chapters away from the end of the first volume. All of them are kind of cliff-hangery too, so I'd rather get that out of the way. There won't be a 5 month wait like it was for this chapter, but it'll still take some time to write.

Anyhoo, enough of the rant. ONTO THE CHAPTER!

Chapter 9 – The Elite

Before she had even taken a step towards him, Gilean's eyes sprang open. His internal clock was rather good in keeping track of night shifts. Though this was an acquired ability that had been heavily ingrained into both Melia and Gilean by their teacher.

Stifling a yawn with his hand, he greeted Melia with a coquettish smile, “Morning.”

Melia rolled her eyes and nudged Gilean to move with her foot. Hard. “Ow!What's wrong with your own bedroll?”

Despite his grumbling, Gilean was obediently rolling over and getting up as Melia plopped down onto his bedroll. “Not as warm. Night.” she replied, her eyes shutting as soon as her head had touched the feather-filled surface of the sleeping pallet.

Some people might've thought she was faking, but Gilean knew that Melia was well and truly asleep. Teacher often joked that this was her other special ability. Gazing at her for a few moments with a wry smile, Gilean stretched his arms as he gazed at the sleeping forms of his new companions.

Wearing a thin grey shirt that was stretched tight over his muscular frame, Semphil was laying on his back with his hands folded atop his steadily moving chest. His armour lay in a neat pile beside him, with his sword laying on his other side.

Damien had a rather slovenly sleeping appearance as he was haphazardly sprawled on his bedroll, hands clutched around the end of his rolled up cloak that he was using as a makeshift pillow. He seemed to be having a rather good dream, based on the dopey smile plastered across his face and the steady stream of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

And then there's him thought Gilean moodily. Much like a mother cat, Artok had enveloped the sleeping Samantha in a warm, protective embrace. His thick fur doubtless provided more warmth than the crackling fire that lay at Gilean's feet. As if sensing his gaze, Artok cracked one of his blind eyes open and somehow managed to stare directly at him. Lips raised so that his sharp fangs could be seen, the two stared at each other for a few tense seconds.

Artok's eyes closed, but Gilean doubted that he had really gone back to sleep. Understandable, really. After all, Gilean was strongly beginning to suspect that Artok had seen him on his last midnight run back in Gelaweir. And if he had seen Gilean like that, then it was no wonder that he'd make sure to stay on guard with him.

Samantha's interactions with him had been very normal however, which allayed several of his concerns. Because she was a druid, Gilean worried that she might've been told something by Artok through a spiritual link that some druids had with animals in their company.

Well...it was still possible that she was contracted with a cat spirit of sorts and in that fashion, she might be able to communicate with Artok once transformed.

What's done is done though. And unless he wanted to cut Artok into pieces, he was just going to have to deal with the consequences. Right now however, his job was to be the night watch. Better to focus on that than to dwell on any potential problems that may arise in the future. With this thought, he adopted a meditative pose as he prepared to delve into a trance state.

He looked once more at Melia and silently mouthed an apology to her. Sorry Melia, I might've already fucked things up.

Gilean stifled a yawn behind his hand as he watched the first light of the new day trickle into their campsite. He had broken out of his trance a few minutes ago to greet the new day. It had become something of a customary ritual for him, a way of saying to himself: 'Hey look! I managed to not fuck everything up yet!'

Trancing was one of several innate advantages that Elves (and Eladrin) possessed over other races. Compared with humans, orcs and other such races; those peoples who were able to access the Trance state had the incredible racial advantage of being able to recover their strength during the night while still being fully aware of their surroundings. Even for Gilean, whose dreams were populated with his own nightmarish memories, was still able to remain vigilant.

Truthfully speaking, even if they had left the guard of the camp to either Samantha or himself, they would not have been caught unawares. A grimace passed over Gilean's face as he considered one of his own special qualities. The people who could trance only needed four hours to recover their strength. He however needed at least eight to nine hours. Slightly worse than the average human. Teacher always said it could be worse though. Gilean supposed that was true enough.

Of course the strength he was truly capable of was something that a lack of sleep couldn't possibly diminish. If anything...a lack of sleep might only make it stronger.

A lovely yawn broke his troubled thoughts. He glanced off towards the side, watching Samantha rub the sleep out of her eyes. Four hours might be enough to fully recover one's strength, but everyone enjoyed sleeping in. Elves were no exception.

“Amanthoriul.” greeted Gilean.

Samantha flashed him a bright smile as she leaned back on her hands, “Amanthoriul. How was the night duty?”

“Boring.”

Her smile got even wider at his terse answer, “Were you hoping for something to happen then?”

Gilean looked at Samantha and then at Melia whose back was turned from him, so he couldn't be sure whether or not she was awake.

“It...wouldn't be entirely undesirabl-Geh!” Gilean hastily dove to the side as something whizzed by his head at a frightening speed. With a hard thunk, the object in question hit the tree some few metres behind where Gilean was previously standing. Where the object (a water bottle) had hit the tree, a sizable portion of the bark had been caved in at the point of impact.

“Tch. Who told you to dodge.” Gilean looked reproachfully at the clearly awake Melia who had evidently heard his answer. Wisely, he said nothing, which seemed to surprise Melia whose eyes widened slightly. Grumbling to herself, Melia shook off the last vestiges of her sleep as she began to pack her gear.

Gilean let out a small sigh of relief as soon as her back was turned, doing his best to ignore Samantha who was smothering her giggles with a hand over her mouth. It wasn't long before the rest of the camp came awake and they were soon scarfing down a quick meal as they packed up the rest of their campsite.

Neyla rumbled with pleasure as she nuzzled Gilean's face affectionately. A smile tugged at his lips as he indulged in the horse's affectations by giving her a scratch along her head. “Hmm? What's this?”

“What's what?” asked Melia. Any trace of annoyance she had in the morning was completely gone. After all, this was a rather common scene for the two of them.

Gilean didn't answer as he carefully brushed aside the long hair along Neyla's head. When he was scratching her, his fingers had brushed across something that felt exceptionally hard and smooth at the same time. He gazed at the spot intensely where he had felt...something, but all that was there was normal skin; soft and smooth to the touch. “Nothing I guess...”

Melia laughed, “You certainly bonded with that horse pretty fast.” stroking Gaia as she said so.

“If everything's been packed, then saddle up.” said Semphil. Sitting astride his massive charger in a full set of armour, he cut a thoroughly majestic figure. Moving efficiently, the party quickly departed from the small copse of trees and re-emerged once more onto the highway.

Conversation was sparse, but friendly enough, the goal for the first few days was to cover as much distance as possible and make good use of the clear skies while they had it. The highways in Elden, and even in Synarth as a whole, were very well maintained. However, the same could not be said for their destination in the neighbouring country of Lestaf, where the rainy season was soon approaching.

But they were all experienced campaigners. Even Damien, the one with the weakest constitution of the group was able to maintain the harsh pace that Semphil had set for them. In that regard, Gilean admired the man. He knew exactly how far to push their group without everyone becoming completely exhausted.

At nights, conversation was lively and the food was...well it wasn't exactly high class or anything, but it was pretty good.

“...by that point the guards had already surrounded them, leaving them no room to escape.”

Melia was clutching her battleaxe so hard that her fingers started turning white, “And then?” she breathed out worriedly. Damien's historical knowledge and his enthusiastic storytelling were the primary form of entertainment whenever they stopped for the night. Even Gilean couldn't help himself get sucked into Damien's world.

Out of everyone in the group, Melia was the one most interested in his tales, often volunteering to do a watch with him so she could hear more tales. Her sincerity and obvious appreciation fostered a fast friendship between the two of them. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a twinge of jealousy when he saw her carefree face. Sometimes he thought he saw a mirrored expression on Samantha's face whenever he looked her way, but he couldn't be sure.

“The two lovers knew that the only way out was to break through those who would try to keep them from being together. Amolna, with a fierce look in her eyes, grabbed the hand of her future husband and held it tight. 'Together.'”

“One word is all that was needed. The trust between the two had reached such a point that their intentions and their feelings could be felt with a simple gesture and a single word. From here the story becomes unclear, for this was all related to by a very, very lucky guard. Supposedly, the fragile-looking peasant girl was even more fearsome with the blade than her lover, the Star-Crossed Prince, as carved a bloody path through the castle.”

“Shields shattered underneath their terrible blows, swords were practically blown to pieces from their ferocity and hearts trembled from their unwavering tenacity...”

Exciting, action-packed stories like these were common around the fire. Some of the ones he told were quite sad. Others thought-provoking. And some were just plain silly. No one, except for possibly Samantha, was quite sure whether or not these stories were true or not, but no one really cared after all. They were a welcome rest after a long day's worth of travel.

Damien was an extremely likeable fellow and soon Gilean found himself chatting with him on occasion. It definitely wasn't because he wanted Melia to stop talking with Damien alone though.

Samantha had a fairly affable personality and Gilean was particularly favourable towards her, purely because of the fact that she was an elf. She seemed to treat Melia a little bit more distantly compared to the rest of the group, but Gilean chalked that up to his imagination.

“Is he always like this?” asked Gilean, who was in charge for cooking that day. He said this in an undertone as he was somewhat terrified of incurring Melia's wrath for interrupting the story.

“Always.” chuckled Samantha, “And he never seems to run out of new stories to tell. Some of the ones he's told over the last few days were new even for me!”

“How long have you two been travelling together?” quietly asked Semphil. His longsword lay naked across his lap and he was slowly rubbing a high-quality cloth over it's steel length.

“About 15 years now. Though I've known him for about 20.” she smiled at some unseen memory, “He used to be such a cute kid.”

“Were you living in a mixed village in Stevrak before?” queried Semphil.

Samantha shook her head, “No. I was living in a rather traditional elven village. In our case, we lived pretty close to a human town. We did a lot of trade and as a result, the relations between our town were pretty good.” Her face clouded over a bit as she said this and she soon fell silent.

They were a little bit odd, but they gave Gilean a pretty good impression. Their abilities were certainly exceptional for B-rankers. This was made clearly evident during that same week when they ran into an ambush of goblins.

“It's not a very good ambush, is it?” sighed Gilean. Of course he had noticed them a little before Artok had, but he thought it'd be more entertaining to see if the rest of the party had noticed. If he had known Melia would give him a stern fist of disapproval later, he probably wouldn't have done it.

“Well what do you expect? They're goblins. Not exactly known for their cleverness.” replied Damien who was looking equally disappointed. This was their first battle as a team and it seemed as if he was hoping for a more dramatic first impression.

Semphil on the other hand was rather happy about this turn of events. “Well this is good in it's own way. I'd prefer a simple challenge for our first battle than a particularly deadly one. Gives us a chance to iron out our teamwork.”

“...What are they waiting for?” quietly interrupted Samantha.

The “ambush”, if it could be called that, consisted of thirty goblins interspersed among the trees along either side of the road. Even if they had received no warning...and were deaf...and had the intelligence of a toddler...and were blind in one eye, it would've been very hard not notice the goblin's attempt at camouflage.

“Think they see us?” rasped a goblin, who was holding two leaves over it's eyes with a hole in the centre of each while pressed up against a tree.

“Talk quieter stupid! They hear you otherwise.” yelled one goblin who appeared to be wrapped in a faded rug that had been crudely painted brown to somewhat match the bark of the trees. It might've been somewhat effective if it wasn't standing as close as possible to the road with two holes cut in the rug so it could hold up two branches.

“Easy for you to say! Grunjar always has best disguises!”

“Me can't wait to get all of their grundles.” rasped another one from the trees. He was holding a crossbow loosely in one hand while he stared greedily at them.

The goblins continued to bicker amongst themselves while the rest of the party quietly discussed amongst themselves who would take care of which side.

“We'll take the right side.” said Melia, indicating herself and Gilean.

“Left side for Samantha and myself.” said Semphil. “Damien: Take out their ranged.”

“Got it.”

“And if Artok could take care of any stragglers, we should be good.” finished Semphil. Samantha nodded and then leaned over Artok's head to whisper a quick stream of Elvish in his ears: “The ones that run are your lunch.”. The hulking animal licked his lips in anticipation; a faint bloodlust began to seep out of the beast.

Their assignments had been doled out in only a few seconds. By an unspoken agreement, everyone waited for Semphil to give the signal. Gilean glanced at the still bickering goblins with a little bit of pity. Goblins were vicious creatures, true, but their incredible stupidity and small stature always made Gilean feel like he was bullying the weak.

I'll make it quick he promised.

“Keep two female elves alive.” barked one goblin who appeared to be the leader. An obscene smile crept over his ugly face along with an equally lurid bulge in his trousers. “They make good night fun. One in black my type.”

A snort escaped from Melia as she clapped a hand over her mouth, trying hard not to laugh out loud. ...Your death will be extremely slow vowed Gilean.

Besides himself, Semphil was the only other person to not have a broad grin plastered on his face. Though if one were to look at his eyes, a person would find the telltale glint of mirth.

“Attack.” ordered Semphil calmly as he drew his blade in one soundless motion. Despite the difference in rank, all of the mercenaries leapt into action at practically the same time.

Because they were such weak enemies, none of the warriors bothered activating their valence and opted for using their natural strength. That being said, all four warriors felt their bodies lighten after a whispered chant from Damien. A subtle shift in the wind that streamlined their movements was simultaneously applied on everyone; speaking volumes of Damien's skill.

Gilean surged ahead like a black tide that devoured any goblin unlucky enough to be caught in his wake. The tight spaces of the trees were clearly unsuitable for the giant blade in his hand, yet it danced freely in his dextrous fingers. A flash of steel was the last thing many goblins saw before their head were separated from their diminutive bodies.

Similarly, Melia charged forward, creating an equal path of destruction alongside Gilean. Her blows were powerful, but focused. She displayed none of the berserker traits or otherwise brutish actions many of her kin would've otherwise displayed. Melia's movements with her battleaxe strongly resembled Gilean's swordsmanship, though it was not nearly so precise or fluid.

What was mostly a silent slaughter of goblins on the right side, the same could not be said for the left. Half-a-heartbeat after Semphil gave the signal, a ferocious bestial roar erupted from Samantha's throat. It was to Semphil's, Melia's and Gilean's credit that they didn't so much as flinch at the unexpected noise, even though they had been warned by Samantha herself what kind of druid she was.

The destructive rampage currently being carried out by Gilean and Melia was casual enough that he could afford to spare a few glances towards Samantha. Gilean was surprised at how quick and how violent the transformation was. In the span of about ten seconds, Samantha had gone form an unassuming elvalya to a massive golden-colored panther that was only a little smaller than Artok.

Gilean, who was making short work of the goblins with his longsword, glanced over at Samantha (I really want to call her “Samanther” in this form.) soon overtook their fearless leader and started mowing the goblins down with her shiny new fangs and claws. The shrill screams of the goblins echoed throughout the forest and were punctuated by the twin roars of Samanther and Artok.

The lone figure who stayed at the back, tightly clutched his staff as he fired off small elemental bolts with deadly accuracy at the goblins perched high on the trees. In less than two minutes, all of the goblins had been exterminated with a deadly and ruthless efficiency.

Well. Almost all of the goblins anyway.

“Would you hurry up already?!” snapped Melia.

“Give.” Bam. A fist slammed into the goblin's face which elicited a satisfying crunch as his nose snapped. “Me.” Bam. Another blow to the abdomen causing the goblin to gag. “A few more seconds.” Bam. Bam. Bam. The blows were neither too fast nor too hard. Gilean was making sure to take his time.

The other three looked at the brutal beating with an equal mixture of surprise and sympathy.

“I almost feel sorry for him.” whispered Samantha softly.

Surprisingly, the goblin leader managed to hear her: “It okay, me like strong women.” coughed the goblin leader.

The severe expression on Melia's face was instantly broken as she started laughing out loud with the others soon following suit.

Gilean was jogged out of his reverie as Melia sat down beside him. He gave Melia a sidelong glance. “Story time's over, then?” his laugh was cut short with a yelp as Melia punched him hard in the shoulder.

“I figured it was about time for dinner to be ready.” said Melia calmly.

“You figured right. Come, friends. Partake in the meal I have so lovingly prepared for all of you.” Gilean made an expansive gesture with his arms as everyone present, including the animals, rolled their eyes, though they all hungrily tucked into the meal.

“This is good...!” muttered Semphil with a surprised look on his face.

“It's delicious! What'd you put in it?” Damien had already wolfed down his first bowl somehow and was already reaching for seconds.

“Oh you know, the usual. A little bit of this and little bit of that.” vaguely explained Gilean, who had still not touched his own bowl. He gave a conspiratorial wink, “You might say they're my secret spices.”

Melia slowly dropped her spoon into the bowl and gazed at it intensely.

“What secret spices?” she asked suspiciously.

“Seasoning salt, chilli powder, onion powder, vusharn extract and a few herbs to give it that pleasant aroma.” He was unable to keep a grin spreading across his face. At this point, everyone except Damien had stopped eating and was glaring suspiciously at Gilean.

Oblivious to the growing situation, Damien boasted, “I'm pretty knowledgeable about herblore. Which ones did you pick? I might be able to recommend some even better ones!”

While Gilean “graciously” filled another bowl for Damien, the others had resumed eating, following Melia's lead.

“Let's think...” Gilean scrunched up his face as he pretended to concentrate. “Silverleaf...”

“Ah, that would be where the slight refreshing aftertaste comes from. A good choice.” said Damien approvingly between gulps.

“Cinnaroot...Barrowind and some other plant that had a good aroma.”

“Oh? What did this plant look like?”

Gilean made a strangling noise in his throat that seemed like he had choked on his food. Melia knew that in fact, the incorrigible elf was desperately suppressing a laugh.

“Are you all right, Gilean?” asked Damien with some concern.

“I'm-heh-ah, fine. Just swallowed a bit of food down – heh – the wrong pipe.” forced out Gilean in between (badly) concealed snickers. “The plant was about...two fingers long with eight petals spreading outwards in shades of blue and pink.”

“Hmm...starblossom perhaps? What was the centre color?”

“I believe it was a deep purple.”

“Ah! Then it must have been a vale flower then!” proclaimed Damien triumphantly. “Quite rare, those flowers you know? Used to be a prized product a few hundred years ago during the Haloten-Valyn Conflict.” began to explain Damien as he lapsed into his storyteller persona.

“Nasty stuff that vale flower.” commented Damien with evident distaste, “Now it's a banned substance. Vale flowers are highly sought after though for it's highly poisonous properties! In fact...” Damien trailed off as he started to process something in his head. His face blanched as he dropped the empty bowl in his hands to the ground; a horrified expression on his face.

With an incredible amount of speed that Gilean didn't think that the young mage was capable of, he slapped the bowl away from Samantha. “This is terrible! We have to find arrynleaves immediately! That'll be able to detoxify us, but only if we can find it in the next fifteen minutes!”

“Damien, he didn't actually...” began Samantha only to be stopped mid-sentence with a squeak as Damien grabbed both of her shoulders and put his face so close to hers that they were almost touching. “I will save you! Don't worry, we can do this!”

The combination of Damien's super serious expression and Samantha's beet-red face was too much for Gilean to take as he burst out laughing. It was such a carefree and innocent laughter that wouldn't have been out of place on even a toddler. Melia's lips curved slightly into a smile even as she tried to fix a stern look on Gilean.

“Gilean! This is no laughing matter!” exclaimed Damien as he whipped his head towards the elf who, at this point, had fallen onto the ground clutching his stomach continuing to laugh uproariously. “That vale flower you put into the stew is extremely toxic!” Damien was clearly getting agitated and was worried that the flower had induced a fit of insanity in the young elf.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Gilean shakily pulled out a long flower from a pouch and tossed it over to Damien. “You mean that flower?”

Damien ran his eyes critically over the flower: Approximately sixteen centimetres long with eight petals extending from the top. Each petal was splashed with vivid hues of a deep blue and a brilliant pink color. The centre of the deadly plant was occupied by a pale gold. “Yes this is most certainly the vale flower. It's incredible that there was even one growing in this dry region, but this purple centre confirms it...?”

Damien looked perplexed as he peered at the flower for a closer inspection and then gave it a tentative sniff. “...This is a starblossom.”

“That's a starblossom.” chuckled Gilean, finally digging into his own meal. The rest of the party were calmly eating their own stew, alternately glancing at Damien with some concern and glaring at Gilean. The elf in question showed absolutely no traces of remorse as he slurped up his meal, eyeing Damien with an expectant glee in his eyes.

For his part, Damien was staring at the flower with a blank expression, lips moving in an inaudible fashion. Finally he looked at Gilean who was shocked to see a smile appear on his face.

Perhaps I've underestimated this fellow...!

Gilean put down his own bowl and stared back confidently at Damien.

“Well played.” praised Damien sincerely while sporting a broad grin. “Just remember that you started it.”

The others were flabbergasted at this development and couldn't understand what was going on as the two men came to some sort of mutual understanding. Damien held out the flower for Gilean to take back, who after a slight hesitation, grabbed onto the starblossom. He thought he could feel...something as he stretched out his senses, but he wasn't sure. There was definitely something weird about the flower, but he was curious as to see what the mage would do.

“Ow!” cried Gilean, jerking his hand back. He opened his palm to discover a small red welt with a thin black line running down the middle. Gilean looked at Damien with begrudging admiration, who in response opened his hand. There, fixed to the centre of his palm, was a small shiny piece of novochore. Damien demonstrated it's application by contracting the muscles of his hand once to display a burst of electricity racing out from the stone.

“Return fire acknowledged.” said Gilean, rubbing a small pasted onto his hand that Damien handed to him. “Terms and conditions?”

“Time limit is until the end of the mission. All events must only occur during breaks and must not hamper progress.” quickly rattled off Damien.

“Very well. Let the Prank War begin.” announced Gilean solemnly.

Both men spat into their palms and shook each other firmly, thereby sealing the pact.

““Idiots...”” sighed Melia and Samantha. For one brief moment, there existed no invisible tension between them as they gave each other sympathetic looks.

“Hmph.” That was the only noise that Semphil made that gave any indication to his displeasure. Their previously smooth journey had hit a rather major snag. “And how long is the alternative?” he asked the young knight in charge of redirecting traffic. A capable looking fellow, if a bit on the small side, who was looking rather intimidated for some reason.

“Ah, well sir, if you're looking to get to the Lestaf border you and your companions will need to go around to Luval's Post and from there take a ferry across the lake.”

“And how long would that take?” sighed Semphil.

The youth looked uneasy, “...About four days. Sorry, sir.”

“Don't be. This...this was just rather bad luck.” Bad luck was putting it mildly though, as he eyed the ruined remains of the mountain pass. There were no other major geographic barriers between Lestaf and Synarth, besides this one. However, sources of water and food resulted in the creation of towns that lay close to the centres of each kingdom. Because of this, there was a lack of development for multiple roads leading between the two nations. In addition, Lestaf was a land that heavily touted human superiority. While Synarth was more of a country that believed in equality among all races. Despite this, the two nations were cordial enough, though both were understandably unwilling to develop any infrastructure that would further connect their nations.

Semphil and his new travelling companions were standing in front of the now barred Alfore Pass. The major trading route between Synarth and Lestaf that snaked through a large and treacherous mountain range. What was once a wide lane where many people from both nations were passing through was now almost completely filled with rubble from the surrounding cliffs.

It could not be said that Synarth's forces were inefficient though, as the massive pile of rubble that blocked off entrance from the Synarthian side would be cleared within a week's time. Unfortunately, Semphil and the others were on somewhat of a tight schedule.

An idea came to mind, “Are you lacking purely in manpower, by any chance? If so, my companions and I...”

“Sorry sir. This kind of work needs a delicate touch. While I'm sure that your abilities could clear this blockage in no time, they would also set off a chain reaction along the entire pass.” said the guard apologetically.

“Was the damage truly that great? How did this even happen?” asked Semphil concernedly. Alfore Pass was a long route that snaked between the towering mountain cliffs for about fifty kilometres. From the exit of the canyon, it would only be another thirty kilometres to the border and their midway point. Based on what he'd heard from the guard, nearly half of the pass had been blocked off.

“I've been told to tell travellers that it was a large band of trolls. People are surprised, but they can understand as there have been such families seen around the area.”

“But?”

The guard hesitated as he checked for anyone who might be listening in, “...Truthfully sir, we're not exactly sure what happened. All I heard was the sound of the canyon walls bursting apart and then filling in the pass. Some other men say they saw a bright violet flash fill up the entire place before the explosion.”

Semphil frowned as he gazed once more at the blocked pass, “Any survivors?”

“Not so far. We're still clearing away the rubble...but so far we haven't found anyone.” he said despondently.

“What about suspects?” The security of Alfore Pass was quite thorough: several guard posts were scattered throughout the expanse of the canyon. The first and last posts at either end of the canyon recorded the identities of every person who entered and exited the pass. From what he remembered as well, grand treasures capable of long distance communication were stationed at each of these outposts, to ensure quick responses.

“A few. Maybe. But our patrols haven't seen anyone leaving the pass either through it or over it.” he looked over his shoulder to see his partner waving at him, “Ah, I better get back to re-directing traffic.”

“My apologies, I did not mean to take up your time.”

“Don't be. It's my job after all. Plus it was an honour to be talking to the legendary 'Mobile Fortress'” laughed the guard. He started to turn away and paused as if he had remembered something, “If you're really pressed for time, then maybe you could try something of a detour. It might actually get you to your destination faster, considering you wouldn't have to stop at any posts.”

“Oh? Why aren't you diverting people towards there?”

“It's a very dangerous route. Narrow paths that cut high through the mountains. There's a few monsters, but not many are too dangerous. I've heard from other people who have passed through there that there's a fairly strong bandit group making base near the trail.”

“I'm surprised they haven't been caught yet.” said Semphil evenly, trying to keep a reprimanding tone out from his voice.

The young guard flushed angrily, though not towards Semphil, “Slippery bastards always manage to get away. We can't send any force in numbers as the pass is too narrow for more than two people to travel abreast. We're sure there's a hidden way that leads to the ground, though we haven't been able to find it yet.”

A smile creased his face, “Then perhaps, this could work out in both of our favours.”

The young man smiled in understanding before a trace of worry flashed across his face, “I'm not pressing you or anything. This is still quite a dangerous-”

“It's okay. I'm glad you told me. I can't promise anything, but if we do run into these bandits, we'll take care of them.” interrupted Semphil gently, easing the knight.

“I-Thank you, sir. If you do, please inform the guards at the other end of the canyon.” he then added on quickly, “If, ah, you have time that is.”

Semphil thanked the guard for his time who returned his words with a snappy salute. He was a rather earnest fellow thought Semphil as he walked over to his companions.

“No good. Pass is completely blocked off. Closest detour will put us off schedule by at least two days.” said Semphil.

“And I don't suppose our guy will wait that long, will he?” asked Gilean with a glum face.

“His position is what will let us across the border, but it's also his position that will force him to leave very soon after the scheduled time.” explained Semphil. “Good news is that there's something of a detour. I've heard it could be dangerous though.”

“Dangerous in what way?” asked Damien.

“Dangerous for normal people.” chuckled Semphil as everyone else laughed with knowing smiles.

“Surprisingly, they're actually a little worse than the goblins.” commented Gilean nonchalantly.

“Really? The ambush was a lot better I think.” replied Damien.

“He's talking about the smell. Avrak! These guys stink!” cursed Melia, wrinkling her nose in clear distaste.

“OI! What the hell are you lot muttering about there?!” shouted a burly man with greasy brown hair. Standing a least a head above the other twenty men in his company, he was dressed in what Semphil could only describe as being “excessively gaudy”. A black and gold doublet with intricate designs on the sides was split open at the middle to reveal a silk shirt dyed in a royal purple. He had three necklaces outfitted with precious gems that possibly carried some sort of enchantment with similarly matching rings on every finger. A hefty-looking battleaxe was being loosely cradled in his hands, though it looked a fair bit smaller compared to the one adorning Melia's back. To finish all of this off, the man had a golden crown with inlaid gems the color of the rainbow that flashed with every subtle movement of his head.

Semphil was by no means a greedy man, but he did not think that today would turn out to be so profitable.

The man's angered shouts had no effect on the incorrigible elf and human youths. “For a group holed up in the mountains, he seems to be wearing pretty clean clothes.” noted Damien, “I guess it's true that they do have a base somewhere up here.”

“So why are the other members dressed like crap?” wondered Gilean loud enough to be heard by the bandits.

While several members cursed angrily at Gilean, Semphil noted with interest that there were not a few of them that directed such stares towards their leader.

“Keep your filthy mouth shut, elf.” ordered another man quietly. He was the second of three members of the group who stood out amongst the bandits. With skin darker than Semphil's own and hair as white as moonlight, the drow curled his lips in a cruel smile as he stared malevolently at Gilean and Samantha.

Artok growled low and dangerously at the drow who directed such ill will towards his master. The bandits on the ground with crossbows levelled their weapons evenly on Artok, fingers on the triggers. Samantha was crouched near Artok and spoke soothingly towards her companion in a long string of Elvish, though she glared at the drow as she did so.

Per the guard's directions, they had found the path easily enough, and true to his words, it was a rather uneven path. Getting the horses through some of the turns would've proved to be annoying, but thankfully, Damien's magic came in handy at these occasions. They had walked for a few hours along the winding trail making idle conversation with each other about how “impossibly difficult” this trail was and how “tired” they were while studiously ignoring the several pairs of eyes that were “secretively” watching them.

...For some reason, Semphil felt like he had become much more sarcastic in the short time he had been travelling with this group. Disregarding those thoughts, Semphil thought that the bandits had taken the bait a little too easily as he eyed the group displayed before him. The trail had opened up into a bowl shaped depression with only a single exit and tall ten metre walls surrounding it. Standing on the edges of the walls were ten other human men and women dressed in a mix of dark, loose-fitting clothes aiming crossbows at them from behind and at their sides.

A total of thirty-one people, including the leader.

“Just to be clear...you are bandits, correct?” asked Semphil politely.

“Isn't that obvious?” said the third man who stuck out. While not as swarthy as the leader he stood next to, he carried off a similar aura of strength. Together with the drow and leader, these three seemed to be the core members of the bandit group.

“And there aren't any other bandit groups in the area? No hidden leader?”

“Motherfucker, there's only one king of these mountains and that's me! Gabor the Howling Axe!” proclaimed the gaudily dressed leader.

“From the Mercenary House?” Semphil was surprised that someone like Gabor was in a place like this. From what he had heard of the man was that he had ended up killing a client who delivered a request to the House and running off with the promised reward. His capture, alive or dead, was ranked as a B-rank mission.

“So you've heard of me, then.” said Gabor in a pleased tone of voice. “Perhaps, you've also heard of my companions then as well.” nodding towards the drow and the black-haired man at his sides.

“Zoru of the Darkness.” introduced the drow.

“Volcanic Blade Beaumont” said the other man.

“Howling Axe? Pfft. More like the Howling Ass...” muttered Gilean.

“You say something boy?!” roared Gabor.

“Yes, sir! I was just wondering what ranks people as famous as you had achieved?” instantly replied Gilean.

The three fugitives visibly swelled with pride at Gilean's words, “Good to see an elf with manners! Don't see too many of those, do we Beaumont?”

“No sir! And the ones who don't...” chuckled Beaumont darkly as he pulled out a zweihander from his back.

“Don't live for very long.” finished Zoru with a sinister smile.

“Well boy, since you're so curious, I'll give you the privilege of seeing just who we are.” Gabor reached into his doublet to pull out a worn medallion with small, exquisitely designed carvings of a bow, hammer, staff and greatsword on it's face. Even if he couldn't see it from this distance, Semphil knew the words “Strength in each other” were arrayed in a circular fashion around the weapon designs on the medallion. This was the official emblem of the Mercenary House; it represented an unmistakable symbol of authority and power in the world as well as a personal means of identification for rankers.

Gabor squeezed his hand as the medallion seemed to come alive and glowed with an inner light, causing the weapon carvings on the face of the emblem to stand out even more. The rays of light shooting out of the light coalesced together to form two virtual symbols that hovered in front of the emblem:

B2

In the silence that followed, the strongest leader sneered at Semphil as he proudly displayed his rank. Semphil sighed, feeling like an idiot.

“Dibs on the crown.” exclaimed Gilean.

“Don't be selfish, we're dividing everything evenly.” admonished Samantha.

“Hey, I don't want to melt it down. I actually want the crown. I'll pay you guys what it's worth!” explained Gilean.

“Wait, you actually want to wear that thing?” said Damien with a shocked expression.

“Hell no! I figured it would be a good present for a friend!”

“Who would want...” began Melia as a look of understanding dawned on her, “Really? Who knows when we'll see him!”

“Oh come on.” sighed Gilean, “You know that stupid crown is exactly the kind of thing he would love. It's not like we need the money either.”

“Who exactly are you two talking-”

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE IGNORING?!”

Samantha's question was interrupted by a furious howl from Gabor. The veins at his neck were bulging out, his face was dyed in an angry red.

“We're ignoring you, dumbass!” shouted back Gilean.

Gabor reeled back as if he had been struck in the face. Though this shock only lasted a few seconds as he screamed with rage, “BRING ME THAT POINTY-EARED FUCKER'S HEAD ON A PIKE! FIRE!!!”

Gabor's order was swiftly carried out as all of the crossbows that were aimed at them had their triggers pulled. Whoosh! A whirlwind was generated as soon as Gabor gave the order for his artillery. Surprisingly, some crossbow bolts managed to pierce the wind barrier, though they had lost most of their power and were easily blocked by Semphil.

“Sorry about that Semphil. They were a bit stronger than I thought. I think their leader personally used his valence for those last few bolts” apologized Damien.

“Don't be. Nice work with the barrier.” said Semphil as he drew his longsword.

“Impossible! How the hell did he manage to block all of those bolts! Some of those I enchanted personally!” exclaimed Gabor.

“Called it.”

“Yes, yes. We're all very impressed.” said Gilean patronizingly. “You mind if I take the drow, fearless leader?”

At this point, Beaumont and several other warriors were charging towards their location. Surprisingly, besides Beaumont of course, at least six of them were capable of using valence. Different multi-coloured auras of ki in many different shapes coated these individuals. Of course Beaumont was at the forefront of these men, and seemed to at least be a B1 rank based on his speed.

The distance between their two groups was trivial for B-rank valences and Beaumont had already appeared in front of Semphil. There was an ugly expression on his face as his muscles bulged obscenely, gripping the blood red zweihander in his hands with a deadly amount of force.

But even without activating his valence, there was someone who was still faster than him. Gilean stabbed his greatsword into the ground as he blocked Beaumont's swing with contemptuous ease. The ground practically exploded as Gilean's sword touched it and Beaumont's blade was repelled from the force. The man stumbled back, stupidly looking at the ground and his own blade.

Semphil silently praised the boy's swordsmanship: it looked like Gilean had simply blocked Beaumont's blow, but through a clever shift of the incoming blade into the hilt of his greatsword, he had diverted the majority of the sword's force into the ground.

As if nothing had happened, Gilean continued to chat idly with Semphil, “Or do you want me to get rid of the crossbow guys?” He tilted his head as a bolt whizzed by his elongated ears before striking the ground.

The bandits who had been angrily roaring at their group had all fallen silent. Their second-in-command, whose power was only a bit weaker than Gabor's, had had his blade blocked so easily.

Beaumont had always considered himself to be strong, but he was smart enough to know there were some people who he couldn't even touch. Gabor was not one of those people, even though in a one-on-one fight he knew that he would lose to Gabor. The people who could easily wipe out their entire gang were the elites of the Mercenary House. The A-rankers.

“You...who the hell are you?” rasped Beaumont. He hadn't delivered his full strength into that blow, but it still shouldn't have been repelled so easily. Beaumont thought that maybe this boy's sword was specially enchanted somehow. There certainly was no sound of metal being struck and he had felt a weird vibration pass through his blade when he made contact.

“Me?” said the boy with a smile, “I'm also part of the Mercenary House.” He gestured to his companions, “We all are.”

Sharp gasps went through the bandits. “Fuck me, they were rankers?!” exclaimed Detha.

“Who cares if they're rankers! They'll go down, same as the rest!” shouted Gabor in an effort to restore calm to the rest of them. Beaumont could tell he sounded a little unsure though. Maybe we could retreat...like there's any chance of that.

More than the she-orc that gave off a ruthless aura or their leader who gave off an indomitable aura, there was something far more terrifying in this boy. When their mage had blocked their bolts, Beaumont had known that this group was strong. Which is why he thought it best to take out what appeared to be their leader. They were all dangerous, he could tell now. But when he stared into this elf's golden eyes, a paralysing fear overcame him.

“Well? Feel like surrendering? You only get one chance.” asked the boy with a carefree smile.

“To hell with you elf!” roared Gabor as he activated his own valence. There was a dull boom as a pale blue aura of ki enveloped his body, pushing several of the bandits backwards from the force of the activation.

Beaumont had already made his decision however as he threw his blade to the ground and knelt in submission. “Beaumont you snivelling sack of shit! I'll kill you for this!” promised Gabor, “Take them all out Zoru!”

Everything happened in a moment as three of the elf's companions sprang into action. The she-orc and elf woman both triggered their valences: glowing emerald rings appeared on top of she-orc's head as a similarly coloured layer of ki shimmered along her body. The elf woman's valence was much more subdued, but still felt more powerful than Gabor's, as golden streams of ki continually ran in rivulets down her body, seemingly forming ethereal claws near her hands and feet.

The mage unleashed a ball of electricity towards the bandits who were standing on the walls while the elf woman leaped up to the men on the other side in a single bound. The she-orc had disappeared with a loud crack as a shockwave exploded from where she had previously been standing.

Zoru had quite literally been cut off in the middle of his spell as the orc's axe cleanly bisected him. Gabor and the bandits were standing there stupefied, unsure of what had just happened. As Beaumont watched the orc slaughter them, those expressions had still not changed when their heads fell to the ground.

It was only a few seconds and their entire group, save him, had been utterly decimated by just three people. Beaumont shivered uncontrollably as the elf and the leader turned towards him. “I-I surrender! I'll go with you peacefully!” he babbled.

“Do we need prisoners?” queried the elf, looking at his leader.

“Too much trouble.” stated the man gruffly.

Before he could say anything in protest, the elf leaped forward and impaled Beaumont on his sword. An unimaginable amount of pain. More than he had felt in his entire life, but he couldn't even scream. He could only cough weakly as he felt his life ebbing away from him, staring into those demonic yellow eyes.

The Orcish Language (Kork'ul Dialect)

Avrak: General expression of disgust