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Arc I Chapter 3

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The carriage halted. The timid girl she was, Aurora tensed up. “Lord Geralt ...”

Grabbing his trusted rapier, Geralt left the carriage. He didn't enjoy the luxury of plate armour, but you couldn't always choose your fights in life. His travelling garbs had to suffice.

“Leave Aurora, you stay inside. Don't leave the carriage under any circumstances. We will be right back.” Geralt met their new friends. Neither he, nor Ardbert had a good feeling about the current situation. The air was tense. The mood heavy. Men in black robes blocked the road. Hoods masked their faces.

Geralt drew his rapier, his gaze unwavering. “Who are you? And in whose name are you blocking our path?”

“Who we are?” A man stepped forward, shrouded in black like the rest. His lips smirked below his hood. “An excellent question, Lord Geralt.”

A bolt of lightning illuminated the darkening sky. Dusk loomed. The first droplets fell and rain covered the land beneath.

The enigmatic man offered a diabolic grin. “Unfortunately, time is precious. We are busy people, Lord Geralt. We have things to do. We have places to be. I hope you understand.”

Bright circles flared up from all sides. Purple, green, blue, yellow, red, orange, their radiant light banished the encroaching darkness.

Left, right, everywhere, magic arrays surrounded them. Squares, hexagons, octagons, all aimed at them. The aura of magic filled the ancient forest. Vibrant chants echoed through the air.

Geralt's eyes widened in shock. Magic circles! This was an ambush!

The enigmatic man smiled. “Goodbye, Lord Geralt. I hope we will never meet again.”

“Fire!” Guenther issued his order, a single word and the forest was set ablaze, a single word which would change the path of history forever.

His men unleashed fury. A barrage of spells, lightning, wind, fire, ice, light, darkness, hit the road, flattening everything in their way. Their effectiveness proved devastating.

No mercy was given. Nobody shall survive the hail of magic and death. Few things were more troublesome than a botched assassination attempt. They only got one chance. Failure was not acceptable.

Unrelenting, his men pressed their advantage. The intensity of their bombardment increased. They bathed the road in fire and death until their attacks ceased. His men burned through their mana reserves at an unsustainable rate.

Guenther clicked his tongue. He probably should have brought more mages, but capable magic users were a rare commodity these days, difficult to come by even for a royal knights. After all, mages didn't grow on trees.

Hiring second-rate adventurers to bolster his forces was also not an option. Their loyalty would have been dubious at best. They couldn't be trusted with such a delicate mission.

The dust settled and a luminous dome in all its splendid glory emerged. Countless magic circles formed a shield. The dome was the product of powerful ancient magic, of light magic, created to protect the carriage. The barrier withstood the onslaught despite numerous cracks across its surface.

The girl had a powerful guardian, but he didn't expect otherwise. Count Geralt was considered a powerful practitioner of magic not for nothing. The count didn't disappoint.

Guenther drew his blade and confronted the old, who stood between him and the girl. The count would die by his blade. He would pay the price to protect his mistress. His spell exhausted the old man, making him easy prey.

“Umbra!” Guenther called forth his magic. A rotating hexagon materialised. Ominous mana gathered around his blade, producing a spear of shadows and darkness. His spell activated. His spear pierced the shield, shattering the last vestiges of light.

“Charge!” Guenther led the assault. His men followed him. The battle commenced. Chaos descended upon the battlefield amidst unrelenting pouring rain. The water turned the ground into mud.

Spells flew. The sweet scent of mana and blood permeated the air. The battle devolved into a brutal melee. Both sides clashed. No quarter was given. Man against man. Knight against knight. Steel against steel.

Amidst all this, a scared little girl trembled, terrified, shocked. An explosion flipped her carriage, but Aurora escaped the wreckage. A scene of carnage greeted her. Wherever she looked, only blood, violence, death welcomed her.

“Geralt!” Aurora screamed. Her heart cried in pain, unable to bear all the violence, all the death.

Geralt turned. Panic was written all over his face. “Run! Run, Lady Aurora! Run! We can't hold them off any longer! We will delay them! We will buy you time!”

Aurora didn't understand. Her head hurt. Chaos and confusion engulfed her world. Nothing made sense. “Geralt, what's happening ...”

“I said, run! Run, Aurora, RUN!”

Aurora didn't know why, but she listened. She ran and never looked back. The frail girl ran as far as her legs carried her, deeper and deeper into the forest. Her legs grew numb, her breathing heavy. Every step hurt, yet she didn't capitulate. Driven by the forces of desperation and hopelessness, Aurora carried on.

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