Hush, children,

Watch the southern waste,

A woman is coming,

Clade in black and gold.

Hush, children,

You must meet the woman

Bless the lady with yourselves,

And remind her of mortal grace

The night will come,

And so will the lord

With his men and greed

And take all that we have

So hide under the beds

avoid his hands, and

Await her coming

Hush children,

Look out of the window!

See the Lady of the Waste

With a swordstaff of aeons past!

Hush, children,

The lady is done

Come out, into her embrace

And remind her of mortal grace

- Unknown poem, from the southern lands of the Nictorian Empire

“Where’s Rougaris?”

While Ris and Roland were searching the library, the rest waited aboveground.

At Navras’s harsh whisper, his group stirred from sleep, three of which who were resting beside one of the houses on the road. One of their member had just returned from watching the perimeter, but the other was nowhere to be found.

“Errr…” the Danaeifard swordsman that had returned looked around nervously, unsure of how to respond.

“Maybe’s he’s pissing into a corner?” One of the other Danaeifards asked.

Navras - who was also sitting near his men - quickly got to his feet. “Maybe.”

They waited, watching the corridor where their clanmate had went, but no sign of Rougaris or his oversized zweihander could be found, even after many moments. Navras’s eyes narrowed, as his suspicion began to grow into a pit of worry. When its weight grew too great too simply brush off, the Lembass pushed himself up, grabbing his helmet.

“Get up, all of you.” He whispered to his entourage, pulling on his helmet. “Up!”

At his command, the rest of the Danaeifards got to their feet. None of them drew their weapons - a risky thing to do in the presence of the Sovereign Watch - but all of them placed a hand on their pommels or grips, all alert.

“What’s going on?”

One of the Watch, who was watching their flanks, had turned around at the commotion.

“One of our member has yet to return from his guard,” Navras replied. “We are going to search for him.”

The Watchman simply nodded, returning back to his post, the matter not of any seeming importance to him

“Typical.” Navras muttered under his breath. “Alright, follow me. Oi! Rougaris!”

The Danaeifards entered the corridor as a group, walking through the place as a tight group. Each of them called out their compatriot’s’ name over and over, but there was no response.

Until they poked their heads into a dark and smelly alleyway beside an abandoned tannery, where they saw one boot peeking out from a corner.

“Rougaris!”

Quickly, one of them ran forward, grabbing the leg which the boot was attached to, dragging the unfortunate Sansuignor out, his weapons and arms still on his person. Quickly, Navras ducked by his clansman side, touching his body, before sighing in relief.

“He’s alive, but…” the Lembass looked around. “Who did this to him?”

There were nervous looks on the rest of the Danaeifards. Slowly, all of them began pulling out their weapons, before looking around at the rest of the district. Despite their actions - or because of it - not one soul or person could be seen.

“...keep your weapons.” Navras finally said, gritting his teeth. “If we are standing around like a bunch of fools with weapons and the Guard comes…”

His men stowed them away, although with trepidation. The Danaeifards that surrounded him, scions of some of his more prominent clansmen, had been trained and prepared in batle, but their privileged post at his side meant that they had not faced any real fighting. “What about Rougaris?” one of the younger Sansuignors asked, hand refusing to let go of his pommel. “We can’t leave him here…”

“Of course we can’t, but…” Navras sighed, “...just get his pony here while I go and report to the Watchmen. We need to get the Outsider and that damned Custodian out too. Arrrgh, Lord Hristomver save us-”

“Maybe I can help.”

A heavy, female voice interrupted Navras mid-rant, and he spun around looking for it.

From the other end of the corridor, an armoured person, covered in interlinking pieces of unnaturally sleek black plate, walked into view. Even from a distance, Navras’s eyes immediately picked out the complex and intricate construction of the newcomer’s armor - the plates around the arms and breastplate were carefully laid and linked through complex yet sturdy joints, ending in an armoured skirt made of plate, mail and woven cloth that ended around the person’s knees. Add a grim helm with two heavy slits for the eyes and a strange white gem glowing dully at the neck, and the polearm attached to the back of her slim silhouette, the strange warrior was making a heavy impression on the Danaeifard group.

“Who are you?”

“A mercenary of minimal standing,” As the distance between them dwindled, Navras noticed that the ‘mercenary’ was dragging something large across the ground, although not showing a sign that it was even inconveniencing her. “Who came across a patch of trouble.”

“I believe mercenaries should be reporting to the frontlines of Houtris, or the Gywhere Pass, not staying in Orismuth,” Navras replied, absolutely serious. Behind him, the rest of his guard began to take up positions, although none of them began to draw a weapon.

“I am heading for Houtris, just staying the night over here.” The mercenary replied cooly, in well-mannered Strovian. With that, the ‘mercenary’, with unnatural strength, swung the object she was dragging at Navras, causing it to slide across the ground and reach a stop right in front of him. “I assume that he…is one of yours?”

A masked face, wearing almost ordinary blacksmith clothing, stared back up at Navras. He got down to his knees, pulled the mask off, and found another Sansuignor’s face staring back at him - one that he definitely did not recognize.

Still, his hackles raised. “I do not recognize this man, but, you…”

“Lembass, wait, this guy…” One of Navras’s armsmen pointed at the object gripped in the downed Sansuignor’s hand. “That’s a Kanssari weapon, I recognize that carving…”

Hearing that, Navras’s temple started to ache.

“I just so happened to stumble on a few of them while taking a walk through the area.” the ‘mercenary’ added, while Navras quickly began putting two and two together. “I’ve managed to knock them out, they should still be on the ground.” A silvery, armoured finger shot out, jabbing at the unconcious Kanssari lying on the ground. “I assume this man is…not one of yours?”

“Definitely not,” A foul mood had overtaken the Lembass, a smouldering fury forming within him as he slowly returned to his feet. “If the Kanssari are here, there’s only one reason -”

There was a distant shout, followed by the sounds of metal clashing against metal.

“Tedak!” Quickly, Navras turned back to his group, barking out orders. “Get Rougaris somewhere safe and revive that vareeit. Rest of you, draw your weapons and follow me! We need to get back to that entrance!”

“Might I follow? I do need to know more about this…place, after all.”

As the Danaeifards drew their collective weapons, the ‘mercenary’ asked a seemingly innocuous question.

“If you wish, but I’m not paying you anything for this.” the Lembass replied,

==|==

“What?!”

While Roland shouted in alarm, Ris did not seem all too bothered. Rather, he quickly raised a palm to the air, shouting a single word - “Blindrista”

Around Roland, the many shelves of the archive suddenly shimmered with light. A arcanum barrier formed along every aisle, sealing off their contents with a terrifying non-recurring pattern of sigils and lines, glowing dangerously. Meanwhile, the lights of the library began to darken, and with an increase of pressure on his skin, Roland could feel the aetherial presence in the room sharply rise.

“Put this in an empty shelf, but don’t touch the ward.” before he could even regain his bearings, Ris was already shoving the box holding the rest of Vrize’s scrolls. “Hurry.”

Too bewildered to argue, Roland grabbed the box and shoved it through the glowing ward - which seemed to emit a snarling noise as his hands neared it. Retreating quickly, he backed up, almost knocking into Ris.

“Sorry-”

“Take this,” Ris said when Roland spun around, holding out the water-boiling crystal and its accompanying scroll. “And follow me.”

While Roland stowed them away in his bag, the Custodian picked the torch up. Moving quickly, Ris led Roland to the eastern wall of the cavernous room. Snapping his fingers and casting another rune, an outline of a doorway appeared in the rocky wall.

Clang.

A sharp noise rang out, and Roland swung around to see one of the ventilation covers lying on the floor.

“Custodia-”

Before he could react, a dark shadow raced past him. Quickly, Roland raised a hand, exerting his will, and a glowing blue barrier flashed all around him - just in time stopping a club rushing towards his torso.

A masked face on a stocky short person stared back up at him.

“GET OFF ME!”

Roland pushed back, and the glowing arcanum shield exploded. A wave of force pulsed forth, causing his assailant to fly back and hit a shelf. At that same moment, something grabbed the back of his collar, dragging him into the doorway, which then slammed shut.

“They must have found the airways.” As Roland leaned on a wall to regain his breath, Ris lit the crystalights in the claustrophobic escape passage. “Perhaps our friend the Lembass has decided to finally play his hand.”

“Navras isn’t -” Roland coughed, dust having gotten into him in the struggle. “The sort who would do this.”

“You say as such, Outsider,” Ris’s voice had lost his usual dull imperturbableness; in fact, Roland could feel every word uttered as if it was spiked with venom, “but all I see are Sansuignors scaling our walls and raiding our sanctified archives. His Magnificence will hear of this.”

The Custodian began to stride off. “This leads to a house on the outskirts of the Catechy, and once we are there I will raise the alarm to the Sovereign Wa-”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A line of torches suddenly illuminated the escape tunnel, showing a stocky and short hooded figure standing within the shadow of the egress, the weight of her presence unmarred by her short stature. Under the dirty and patched cloak, a stern Sansuignor with two furious eyes stared back, her gaze affixed upon Ris. An assortment of items were hanging underneath, including a battered pitcher and a few aetherial crystal.

“Custodian…was it?” she began, his head in a questioning tilt stepping across the threshold proper. “I trust that…you must be aware of what is happening right now.”

“You, sarngris…” the Custodian seethed, backing up as the Sansuignor got closer. Roland himself pushed against the wall, his hand scrabbling for the crystal around his neck in panic.

“Typical Order scum.” The hooded invader rolled her eyes, before pulling something from her belt. “I’m not asking. Return to your sanctum, and unlock your wards,” she said, as she pointed an axe at the Custodian. “Or I will make you.”

“We would rather die than reveal our secrets to pillagers or looters.” Ris snarled.

“If you so insist.”

Their adversary’s gaze suddenly turned on Roland, sending a flash of panic down the Outsider. Quickly, Roland grabbed his aetherial crystal, thinking through the first steps of a spell-

“No.”

There was a flash of yellow light, and Roland’s crystal shattered, wrenching his fingers apart in an unstable explosion.

“Agggh! Fuck! Fuck-”

Cradling his arm and howling in pain, Roland collapsed to his knees, screaming expletives all the way. On his palm, blood began to pool from where the crystal shards had cut.

“Outsider-” Roland could barely hear Ris’s call of concern over his own screaming.

Before either of them could do a thing, a hand had grabbed a hold of Roland’s collar, and quickly he found the touch of cold steel against his neck.

“For his safety, perhaps we should carry on, yes?”

==|==

“Blasted…Kanssari, get off!”

Another Sansuigsnor had caught Navras and had put him in a lock, both their weapons having dropped on the ground. His face burning red, the Lembass turned within the lock, shifted his stance, before unleashing a furious knee into his assailant’s stomach.

The grip on his neck releasing, Navras dived for his sword, before running up to his attacker. Hesitating for a moment, he turned his would-be fatal slice to a punch, knocking the other Sansuigsnor off balance with a furious wallop from his fist. Dragging the dazed attacker to the ground, Navras made him stay down with a heavy whack of his pommel.

Gasping for breath, Navras looked around. His men were outnumbered. Around seven or so other Kanssari were facing the five or so Danaeifard, and each of them had already backed into defensive positions, trying to fend off their attackers. One of the Sovereign Watch was already knocked out on the ground, legs tied up by a bolas, and the other was nowhere to be found.

Navras appraised his opponent’s equipment again. Under the tattered cloak they had been wearing was a simple blacksmith’s outfit, the man beneath him still wearing some of his smithing tools. Despite the fight raging around him, Navras felt a brief twinge of pity, even alongside his own relief. If they hadn’t been weaning full armour, or if the Kanssari had been wearing more than their concealable daggers, hammers or axes, Navras knew they would have been him and his men on the floor.

Puffing up with fury, the Lembass unleashed a shout.

“ENOUGH!”

His yell rose above the din, causing both parties to pause. As the Kanssari turned to face him, the other Danaeifards took the moment to catch their breaths, adjusting their stance.

“Fartuk Navras,” one of the Kanssari - wielding a pair of axes, clad in a travelling cloak that was somewhat better than his compatriots and equipped with some sort of mail underneath - began, using Navras’s internal title within the Clans of Zobruk. “Truth be told, we have no quarrel with you. If you and your entourage will retreat, we will not note this clas-”

“By Hristomver’s arse, you have quite the nerve, to demand my retreat, after you attacked us and the Sovereign Watch!” Navras roared, “Whatever quarrel that has led you to attack the Order, we will have no part in it. We are heading within, and we will retrieve our escort and friend within, without more assaults from your lot. Consider this a pledge of Danaeifard pity against your misbegotten action!”

The Kanssari leader’s eyes narrowed. “Your pity is unneeded, Fartuk. We simply cannot let you enter until we have finally completed our sacred mission.”

“What sacred mission?” Navras scoffed, “What could be so important that you have to attack us in the very capital of Straskey? Just let us ”

“He will be safe, down there.” This time, the Kanssari backed off a little, eyes darting towards the entrance to the underground library. “Fartuk Svernaya wouldn’t…no, she surely won’t be that reckless.”

At the mention of Svernaya and seeing the fighter’s hesitation, Navras’s anxiety skyrocketed. “This is not the time for this. Just allow us to rescue our friend, and we will be gone.”

The Kanssari leader lowered his weapons for a moment, before raising them again. “I’m sorry, but I cannot agree.”

Noting the refusal, Navras growled, his blade flashing with aetherial energy as he ignited an arcanum hex within. At that response, all the other fighters raised their own weapons again, preparing to resume their clash-

Ke-thunk.

There was a shout, and when Navras turned to see it, all he saw was a Kanssari flying and landing on the ground beside him, out cold. Quickly he turned around -

- only to see the mercenary, twirling her halberd, setting herself on the next Kanssari. With barely a yell, the polearm slammed against the side of the Sansuignor’s head, and he collapsed out cold. With an outraged yell, his partner leapt to assist, only to be staggered by the mercenary’s follow up palm strike, and knocked out by a finishing blow from the halberd

Three down in a matter of seconds.

Seeing this, the remaining Kanssari, including their leader, stepped back, eyes all upon the interfering stranger. They began to surround her, although the once confident looks they had were now replaced with that of doubt.

“I highly suggest,” she began, with a voice that was heavily tinged with irritation, “that all of you lay down your arms right now.”

The Kanssari said nothing, merely raising their weapons for the counterattack.

“I see you lot are that insistent on wasting my time, then.”

With a coordinated shout, the assailants attacked, blades flashing under the sunlight.

In response, the ‘mercenary’ raised her halberd and slammed it shaft first onto the ground. In that instant, numerous sigils fired off along its length - and aetherial tendrils the colour of black vomited from the weapon, slamming into each assailant. With barely a yell, they were all thrown back, landing heavily on the ground with a thump.

…what? Navras stared at the mercenary with no small amount of shock. I’ve heard of warriors who train so well with the aetherial and martial arts that they are gods on the battlefield, but this is ridiculous!

“Well…” The mercenary turned around, facing the speechless Danaeifards with what would have looked like a performative sweep. “I assume that’s the rest of them?”

At her words, Navras quickly shook himself out of the reverie. “Well…no. You see, below us, there’s an archive…”

==|==

Hands grabbed Roland and forced him into a kneeling position, beside the very table that he was just using several minutes ago. The pain in his hand had intensified to even more painful heights, forcing him to bite on his lower lip just to suppress it.

He had raised his injury to his captors but to no avail, they merely ignored it as they began ransacking the archives.

Trying to focus on something else, Roland looked around. The Sansuignors that had invaded - definitely not Navras’s lot, at least as Roland could see to the best of his ability. With Ris being forced to deactivate the security features of the Archive, the attackers/raiders/thieves were now searching the place high and low, picking up manuscripts and laying them out on the table, where their ringleader was inspecting.

As for Ris, the Custodian was standing by the side of said ringleader, with his own guard in tow. At some point, the ringleader asked a question, and the Custodian shook his head, only for her to nod towards Roland, whereupon Roland felt the cold steel of a knife return to his neck.

Oh no, please, please please please please please…

After a few agonizing moments, Ris shook his head, yelling out an answer that Roland could barely translate. Relief then surged through him as the knife was removed from his skin, even as his heart palpitated madly and he could feel tears starting to stream down his face.

Fuck. Madeline was right, this was such a dumb idea…I might actually die in this place. And then…

In between the cycle of self-pity and regret he was wavering between again and again, he could hear another argument brewing.

“...again, I ask you, where is that last manuscript of Vrize’s?” The Ringleader asked, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Hearing those words, Roland felt a chill down his spine.

“...that item, it being given over to the Danaeifards-”

“You lie!”

There was a loud slap, and Ris’s shadow shrank as the friar was forced to one knee. “Tell us where it is, or -”

“Its…its with him!” Ris shouted. “They’ve come on the requests of the Danaeifards to retrieve the water-boiling crystal, so stay your hand before you harm him! He’s also a guest of the c-”

A loud thump, and Ris slumped to the floor. The ringleader turned away from him, and began walking towards Roland, causing to him to shake?

“So…you say that the Danaeifards hired you?” The ringleader knelt in front of Roland, a leering look on her face.

“They…they are literally waiting outsi- GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHK”

Excruciating pain shot up his arm, as the Sansuignor stepped on it.

“I know, but I think that you are just another thief, just like the rest,” The ringleader scoffed. “Perhaps you should be served with a punishment - and I hear that the loss of an arm is the punishment for petty thievery in Straskey, is it not?”

Fuck… “Have you lost your…mind?” Roland choked out in tortured Strovian, tossing back as much anger as he could. “I’m - I’m a guest of the Uiatachians and the Princess Ro-”

“I care not for what your Straskian masters think. Groz, the axe, if you will.”

A chill of horror ran down Roland spine. Oh god, save me-

“If you fear not the staves of Uiatach or the blades of Straskey, then let me teach you something more to fear, till the very end of your short lives.”

A new voice entered the archives, and with it, a sudden whooshing sudden. Before Roland knew it something large slammed into a Sansuignor beside him, and with a yell he flew into the table, tumbling over into dust. Coughing, Roland fell from the grip of his captors, heaving as he tried to reorient himself upwards.

He turned around to spot a shimmering halberd poking from the body, black tendrils of various sizes emanating from it. Before he had any time to comprehend its origin, it suddenly shot back, towards a figure marching into the room, through the main entrance of the archive, who caught it with a single hand.

“Get up, all of you!” The ringleader shouted, and immediately, the gathered raiders jumped to their feet. From the corner of his eye, he spotted them try to form a defensive cordon around him and the ringleader. “Crystals at the ready and fir-”

“No.”

A wave of darkness shot out from the armoured figure, slamming into the line and sending them flying. The sansuignors attempted to regroup, only to find themselves beset by their assailant. Two more fell in quick succession with a vicious double strike from the halberd's other end, before the rest could react.

“Get back! Get back, use arcanus, duwat shalyit zor-”

With enraged cursing in Strovian and Zorbrukian speech, the ringleader ordered her men to retreat. The sansuignors jumped back, immediately getting out of melee range of the slim juggernaut. Pulling out crystals from their pockets or pouches, each of them began to shout uncoordinated incantations, and as the aetherial pressure rose Roland closed his eyes-

A dozen different noises were heard, followed by stunned silence.

“What?”

The figure simply stood in the middle, completely unmarred. One last sansuignor uttered a nervous spell, and a series of spikes materialised on the ground around the knight - only for the spikes to simply shatter on contact with the newcomer’s armour. Seeing the sight, Roland quickly retreated, using his legs and uninjured arm to drag himself as far from the figure as possible, all the while trying to ignore the pain.

“Fartuk Svendaya, arcanum doesn’t work-”

“Just keep attacking! Their wards cannot stay forever-”

Finally reaching a safe corner, Roland turned around, just in time to see the armoured figure leapt again - this time at the ringleader. Before anyone reacted, the Sansuignor had her own crystal out, and it flashed, throwing up a shining barrier of iridescent blue that her attacker hit. Bouncing off, the knight flew back up, landing back on the table.

Quickly, the Sansuignors attacked in unison again - launching another series of arcanum attacks. Again, the archive flashed with the white and red of offensive arcanum. And Roland could see the newcomer moving quickly, stepping back gracefully and evading the attacks with ease - until a blast of light clipped their armour, causing them to slip.

Triumphant yells shot up among the Sansuignors, and they redoubled their efforts. “We got that thing on the retreat, just get-”

But as quickly as they lost their balance, the figure regained their balance - and moved. With the same unnatural speed as before, they launched themselves at the flanks of the Sansuignors, polearm and armour bristling with unbridled aetherial energy.

Unexpecting the attack, the first Sansuignor fell down quickly, and before the rest could gather again, the figure had leapt off its last victim, already descending upon them. With each strike from the halberd, accompanying another strike from the weapon’s aetherial appendages, the Sansuignors fell one by one.

“What?!”

While the ringleader cried out in shock, the figure when for her. Immediately, the shield erupted again, blocking the figure once again.

“You - won’t take - me - alive!” The Sansuignor cried as she parried a second attack with her axe, grabbing another, yellow crystal. Immediately, it glowed with an unstable light. The armoured figure reached for it, but the Sansuignor blocked their third attack with yet another barrier.

“Wat-” Roland began the cry, but his voice was hoarse, from the lack of water and the pain.

But it was unneeded. A tendril of dark aether flowed from the figure and seized the Sansuignor’s hand. A rune flashed on it, and with a howl, the Sansuignor dropped the crystal, while her barrier failed. As she fell to the ground, the armoured figure hit her on the back of her head.

The archive became deadly silent, as Roland and the attacker was the only ones conscious in the room.

Almost immediately, the figure turned around, making a beeline for Roland. Exhausted, the Outsider collapsed on his elbow, breathing heavily. He tried to retreat, but his legs only kicked out into a shelf.

…I hope that they aren’t here to kill me…if not…well…

Despite the armour, Roland could hear almost no sound from their approach. They stopped beside him, and metal fingers gently grasped his shoulder, pulling him upright, allowing him to look up into their helm.

“W-who are you?” Roland said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. As he appraised the slim, but regal statute of his saviour, eyes darting all over sleek armour and weapon, while feeling a certain familiar feeling, a sudden realisation came to him. “Wait, is that you-”

A finger shot forward, hovering over his lips. The armoured figure nodded, and immediately Roland felt relief wash over him.

Quickly, his saviour lifted the wrist of his wounded hand, looking over the vicious injury, causing him to grunt as the adrenaline faded away and allowed the pain to return. Quickly, armoured fingers traced a sigil on that arm, causing a torrent of aetherial energy to rush into the wounds and heal them, skin mending at miraculous speeds as the pain faded away.

“Thank you.” Roland looked up at the armoured figure, nodding. She nodded back in return, drawing a final sigil on his forehead before standing back up.

“Outsider!”

Hearing a commotion, Roland turned around, spotting Navras and other armoured figures beginning to appear at the Archive’s entrance. At that, his saviour quickly turned to leave, striding rapidly past them and up the exit.

…that’s the second time she’s saved me in a month, dammit…

One last thought came to Roland’s mind before the sleeping spell hit him.