Samuel encountered trouble before he was even close to the ground. Several points of trouble, in fact. First, the eagle-eyes watchman who just happened to be glancing up at the night sky, and caught the barest flash of light from Samuel’s spell as he began to slow down his ascent. Samuel dropped past him too fast for recognition, but he was still spotted. Second, there was the mage who spotted him when he landed just outside the central keep’s door, and had the correct first instinct, which was to shout in alarm.

Samuel darted forward before he could even regain his balance, and struck the mage down with one quick swipe of his sword. The mage only had enough time to speak the first few words of an incantation, and a single spark of electricity escaped his hands before he hit the cobbles of the courtyard. Then Samuel fired off two silent, nearly invisible burst of air that knocked the sentry down, silencing him just long enough for Samuel to leap up to the tower and cut him down as well. Then he snatched the man’s body, as well as the mage, and darted into cover behind a pile of crates, his ears strained to catch any sound of further discovery.

That was when he noticed the third bit of trouble. A man, crossing the courtyard with a very tired air about him, just happened to turn in time to see Samuel dart behind the crates. He blinked in mild surprise, then rubbed his eyes. He swore he’d just seen something move in the shadows. He took a hesitant step forward, and then another. He peered into the shadows, trying to spot the movement again. A mere dozen feet away, under the protection of his very hasty invisibility spell, Samuel crouched, ready to pounce one more. But the man seemed to conclude that it had been his imagination after a long day and, with a shrug, turned and continued his patrol.

Samuel let out a quiet sigh of relief. His infiltration was not off to a good start. Luckily he’d managed to kill the two who had spotted them before they raised the alarm, but their absence would be noticed, sooner or later. Now there was an extra burden on his shoulders, the need to finish his mission quickly. He nudged the two fallen enemies further out of sight, and took off his dark blue outer robe. The garment was hemmed with golden thread, and would reflect any light he passed. Dressed as he now was, in plain dark grey tunic and pants, he was less conspicuous.

He made his slow way around the exterior of the central keep pausing every once in a while to place runes in obscure, hard to notice places. This was the core of his plan. He knew that he didn’t have a single spell with enough power to knock out the defenses. So his best option was to place as many of these explosive runes around as he could. Then, tomorrow, when the timing was right, he could trigger them from afar. Hopefully, they would have enough of an effect to let his force take the fortress over. Aren had informed him that any method of siege was acceptable, even destruction of the fortress itself. Anything to get the invaders out.

Deep down, Samuel also had another motivation. This fortress, and the land around it, had a long history of cruel nobles. The people of the nearby village had often suffered due to the noble house’s greed, often spending entire winters starving as the ruler of the castle gorged himself. Samuel sympathized with their plight and, while their conditions were much better now with the Rainhall family having lost a good bit of their authority, he still wanted to ensure that it could never happen again. This siege provided him the perfect opportunity to take his first palpable strike against the Rainhall family.

Once the keep was finished, he broadened his path, darting back and forth across the walkways to place more runes. He moved like just another shadow in a courtyard full of dark patches, sometimes even passing directly behind patrolling soldiers without drawing attention. He wasn’t the most stealthy, but he quickly found his groove, relying on darkness and the occasional magical distraction to pass unnoticed. After an hour, he wagered that he’d covered about three-quarters of the fortress. All that was left was the main area, in front of the central keep. It would be harder to avoid detection there.

“You there!” The raised voice made the hairs on his neck shoot straight up, and he gave a guilty start. Not the right reaction, he thought with a silent curse. Still, he turned around, forcing a jovial smile onto his face. Half a dozen men were standing several yards away from him. The leader, the one who had challenged him, was dressed in full plate mail and holding a heavy broadsword. Around him were three warriors and two mages.

“Good evening, Commander!” Samuel said, bringing one hand up in a salute. Couldn’t hurt to try and bluff his way out, he thought. He noticed that the two mages had their hands raised, dripping with mana, ready to strike. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Don’t try to fool me,” The man said, his voice as cold as ice. “I know you’re not one of my men. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

Samuel cursed inwardly. The one time that he would prefer to be anonymous, he had to be instantly recognized. He abandoned the smile and stood straighter. “Worth a try. So, what’s going to happen now? I’d advise you let me leave in peace.” He tried to make his face as stern as possible, then, added, “If you value your life, that is.”

“Not a chance,” the man said. “Contain him!”

At the order, the two mages launched their spells. They were fast, Samuel thought. Nearly as fast as he was. He conjured a barrier just in time to protect against the flood of mana they sent his way. Then, as the mana solidified into a barrier of its own, he realized his mistake. They hadn’t been trying to attack him. They’d trapped him in place for the warriors. The commander stepped forward at once, lowering the point of his broadsword and thrusting into the sphere of air. It even sliced through Samuel’s barrier, opening a long wound on his ribs. He gritted his teeth and hit the weapon with a blast of air to get it away.

It flew to the side with a ringing clatter, but almost immediately flew back to the man’s hand. “It won’t be that easy, I’m afraid. You can’t teleport out of this trap, and you can’t avoid me forever.”

Samuel had to admit that he had a point. But he also had more tricks up his sleeve. Gathering his mana about him, he seized hold of the mana that the mages were maintaining around him. He saw their faces register blank shock as they lost control of their spells, and the mana surged inward, spiking towards Samuel like arrows. But before they could make contact, Samuel redirected them away from his body, pointing them back towards the mages.

“Hampasin!” Under his guidance, the bolts became stronger and faster, piercing the mages before they could conjure barriers. The Commander glanced back at their screams of pain, and in that instant where his focus was turned away, Samuel struck. His sword sheared through the man’s armor like a hot knife through butter, and the commander was dead before his body hit the ground. Samuel withdrew his sword, reminding himself forcefully of the first time he’d seen Shigeru fight.

The other warriors stood, stunned by the speed with which Samuel had killed their comrades. He could tell by their eyes that they had no motive to attack. A cruel smile stretched across his face. “Let that be a lesson for you to learn. Tell Knarlick that much worse will happen should he continue his invasion. Good luck.”

Before they could muster any kind of reaction, Samuel reached out with his mana, finding the place where his force was camped. Several mages sensed his approach and rose, ready to fight, before they recognized his mana. Many barriers prevented teleportation, but exiting was no issue. In a blur, he disappeared. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by his men once more. They shouted in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Lord Bragg!” One of them shouted. “Where in the devil did you spring from? Are you wounded?”

Samuel glanced down at his side, where a sheet of blood was coursing out of the wound. He closed it with a quick word, then removed his torn tunic. “I’m fine. One of them got a lucky hit in.”

“Lord Bragg!” That was Edmund, running over with a stricken look on his face. “You’ve been away a while! Were you successful?”

“We’ll know tomorrow,” Samuel said evasively. He made a discrete gesture for Edmund not to question further, and the man nodded in understanding. “I was spotted while inside the fortress and had to fight my way out. Their commander recognized me, unfortunately.”

“He recognized you?” Edmund repeated incredulously. “But you’ve never been to the Mitene Union, have you?”

Samuel offered a slight shrug in reply. “It stands to reason that the enemy did their research. If their spies spent any amount of time in the capital over the past few years, they’d know who I am.”

And that was the heart of the issue, he thought. His title, not to mention his accomplishments in the past half-decade, had given him quite a reputation. He even met foreigners from as far as Nihon-Ja who recognized him at once. He remembered a thought he’d had years and years ago, before fighting Neratas. It must be tough to be a legend. He pushed that heavy thought away, refusing to consider just how far his influence had stretched. Perhaps ideas like that weren’t a good idea in the future. He could hardly hope to remain unnoticed if he was so easily recognizable.

Samuel shook his head ruefully, more to rid himself of the sudden melancholy than anything. He gave the others a brief hand gesture. “We’ll form up to attack in five hours. Spread the word, then get some rest while you can.”

Throughout the rest of the night, Samuel dozed fitfully on the uncomfortable cot in his tent. Edmund and his officers had offered him a commander’s tent, with much more comfortable furniture, but he’d declined. He needed nothing more than the rest of his men. He only slightly regretted that decision as he tossed and turned, his mind strained to catch the first sign of heightened emotion that meant an attack was coming. There were sentries spread out in a wide net around the force, he knew, and they would spot any enemies approaching and raise the alarm.

In the short periods of rest that he was able to achieve, his tired brain conjured images of battle and destruction. His failure, and the deaths of all his men, culminating with his own death. The Mitene Union storming the capital and taking control of it all. His students were taken as prisoners, forced to fight for their conquerors. He tried to calm himself, but his control was lacking while in sleep. Finally, just half an hour before they were to form the army up, he snapped awake and sat bolt upright in his tent.

A small startled noise to his left let him know that Edmund was sitting cross-legged just inside his tent. The man was chanting something under his breath, and Samuel realized that his mana had flared out. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, drawing the field back in and swinging his legs out over the edge of his bed. He rose to his feet unsteadily, looking to Edmund. Had he deduced what was in Samuel’s mind?

“Heavy is the mind that ponders war,” Edmund said. His voice was grave but conciliatory. “You bear your burden well, Lord Bragg.”

Samuel had no time for idle platitudes. “Why aren’t you resting in your tent?”

“I am rested enough,” Edmund replied simply. He too rose to his feet. “I learn to grab sleep when and where I can, so I slept while you were away.”

Wise man, Samuel thought to himself. “Fine. Then go and prepare the officers. We’ll be getting ready soon.”

Edmund inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of the order but offered a sincere apology. “The officers are all ready, my lord. We are prepared to move on your command. Also, Archmage Kiinor has sent a message regarding the Champion of Bahamut, if you are interested.”

“Of course,” Samuel said, distracted at once. “What has become of his force?”

“Most of them live, my lord. However, there is no word on Lord Ciayol himself. He was last seen thrown from the Tyrant Queen’s back as she flew away from the scene.”

Samuel tapped his chin thoughtfully. He’d seen Bora Bora’s aura for himself on several occasions, whenever their two professions allowed their paths to cross. He was vaguely surprised that he could be defeated, even by an ancient being such as Tiamat, without causing significant damage. Perhaps he underestimated his opponent, Samuel thought. That was always a lethal mistake in battle, as most warriors discovered their fault. He spared a moment or two wondering at the actions of Tiamat, and where she could be now, before returning to the subject at hand.

“Let’s prepare to move,” he said curtly. “Give me five minutes, and I will be with you.”

Edmund replied with a crisp salute and backed out of the tent. Samuel heard his raised voice calling out, mustering the officers and their men. The general chaos of four-hundred men gathering their equipment and forming into marching order was very loud. Samuel turned to the tiny collapsible table that had been included with his tent and summoned an alter to Arcana. Stripping off his tunic, he knelt bare-chested before it, head lowered as if in prayer. But in actuality, he was deep in meditation.

The main benefit of his journeys over the past century, though he couldn’t remember the majority of it, was the condensation of power. Beginning with a sharpened mind, courtesy of his god, he was then given the body of an Ancient. That body had been enhanced further by a set of runes that ran down his spine. He’d extended these runes to run along his shoulder blades, as his knowledge of the strange runic magic grew. The main fault was that, after the first time he’d used them, he had to charge them before each use.

Edmund and the officers didn’t bother him as he charged. Edmund had obviously sensed that he was gathering mana, and warned the others not to disturb him. Friendly or not, each mage’s preparation methods were unique and protected vehemently. It was in this preparation that secrets could be revealed. Samuel was grateful for the man’s tact and social sense. Without it, he wouldn’t have nearly enough room to maneuver as he wished. From convincing the officers to let him carry out his plan to keeping his peace, he felt he owned the attendant a great deal.

Nearly half an hour later, Samuel emerged from his tent, fully prepared. He did his best to ignore the open-mouthed stares of the men around him as he stood straight. He knew that thanks to the rune, he would be glowing slightly with the intensity of his mana, even with it drawn in as it was. He finished tying the outside of his robe and rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, the greatest of all his gifts. Though he wasn’t to know it, the warriors under his command were greatly inspired by the lethal mix of magic and melee that he represented.

“Let’s get a move on,” he said, after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. The officers seemed to snap out of their daze and shouted his orders to the men. As the column gathered itself to march, Samuel fell in at the head, leading the pace as they began the march to Jyrok. It was only then, though he couldn’t comprehend how that he finally noticed the force of men approaching from down the hill. “Oh, dear.”

Mitene Union soldiers were breaking into a run as their enemy came into sight, hefting their weapons and letting out a loud warcry. The commotion drowned out even the shouted orders of Samuel’s officers, and their sudden appearance caught the Gorteauan force by surprise. Caught out in the open, with no defensive position, they were in real danger. At least, if not for Samuel, who reacted with all the speed and power that his training could allow. Several dozen arrows had been loosed as the Miteneans began their charge, and most seemed to be focused on Samuel himself.

Samuel thrust one hand out, flaring his mana and allowing it to expand nearly thirty feet in every direction, solidifying just in time to catch the arrows. The ease with which he stopped that attack gave some of the enemy pause, but they continued nonetheless, determined to crush the opposing army. Samuel drew his blade as the first enemy reached him, and cut the man down before he could launch his attack. Then he leaped forward to meet those behind him, his crystalline sword moving in a blur as he dispatched two more. Then, with a muttered word, he released a roiling ball of flame with his free hand. It slammed into the enemy force and exploded, sending men flying in every direction.

Undaunted, the army continued to surge forward, but Samuel’s first attack had bought his force time to come to terms with what was unfolding. The archmage found himself overtaken by several of his soldiers, the men holding their weapons high and answering the enemy warcry with shouts of their own. Their fighting blood had been roused, and they were ready to punish the insolent invaders who had threatened their homes. Samuel, bemused, allowed the tide to sweep around and past him, continuing to fire supporting spells as he moved.