Redemption Arc

“Break the dam,” said the white-haired man.

Not long after the order was given, a great magic sigil erupted on the stone surface of the dam. Cracks split across it like an egg hatching open. Water started to burst out in small spouts before the bulk of the wall fell away and a torrent of water spilled forth. It surged into the river ahead, barely contained by the course established by erosion.

The white-haired man in the mask watched the flow of the river with an expression of satisfaction just barely visible in his eyes. He turned the one who he was giving orders to.

“It’ll take some time for that to reach the confluence,” the man said. “We need to be out of reach of anyone they might send to investigate. They sent some heavy hitters to escort those Student Ambassadors. We’ll have to take extra precautions.”

“Yes sir,” the other answered quickly, and then ran off to relay the order.

***

Lucian stood on the banks of the island in the confluence. Everyone listened to the school dean’s briefing. Looking around, some people that used them had horses already—Miriam in particular caught his eye, standing proud on horseback. She could probably ride a horse better than he could, and she only had one leg.

“The captain of the guards in Verne has been kind enough to lend me command over a single battalion. The guards of Verne have set up around the back of the island,” he emphasized, gesturing toward the back. “If you make the bandits retreat, they’ll be shepherded back into our hands, so don’t fret overmuch. All of you are the leaders of the next generation, and you need to experience firsthand what it is to fight a battle of life and death.”

Lucian stood beside Rowan near the front—he didn’t want to be one second behind anyone.

“You’ll be taking your orders from the Head Student Ambassador, Rowan Sumner,” the dean continued. “Just because these men are outlaws doesn’t mean they’re brutish or uneducated. Underestimate them at your own peril.” The dean looked between them all briefly. “Good luck.”

At that, Rowan led the advance toward the bandit camp. Evidently the brigade hadn’t expected for anyone to ever dock on this island, because their fortifications were made more to ward off the elements than to ward off invaders. They probably assumed that they had a natural fortification in the form of a river. If things remained as they were in the original… a certain conversation was soon to follow.

“If this experience is meant to enhance our leadership abilities, why are we taking orders from Rowan?” Prince Denzel asked.

“I’m inclined to agree,” said Ruth Goldhain, daughter of the current president of New Riverra. She was a charming woman of middling height with neat brown hair that stopped at her shoulders. Though the republic had eschewed nobility, certain families were nonetheless still quite entrenched. The Goldhains were descended from one of the founding members of the republic, and thus had a certain prestige that afforded her a position of prominence among the other Student Ambassadors from New Riverra. “Why don’t we divide into four teams, each headed by someone from each nation?”

Rowan looked at Ruth. “Yeah? The famous ‘divide ourselves and be conquered’ strategy? You want to split an already-small force even smaller?”

“These are bandits. Low-lives. I’ve already fought their ilk on my lonesome in my duties as prince,” Denzel said. “I’m going on my own. Those who wish to follow me will be welcomed.”

Just as it was in the War of Four, a large number of people belonging to the Empire split off from the group and followed after Denzel. He headed for the rightward side of the camp.

“He’s right,” Isran agreed. “In the Confederation, bandits are a fact of life. I imagine these ones will be fat, living in this cushy spot surrounded by rivers on all sides. Ladies, gentlemen?” he called out as he walked away. Only two Veenish ambassadors remained behind.

Soon enough, Prince Maximilian Vantz and Ruth Goldhain had said something similar, leaving them with only the starting eight characters, identical to as it was in the War of Four—nine, if Lucian was included. Those eight were Rowan Sumner from Verne, Helen Brumaire and Olivia Vantz-Leon from Vantz, Miriam and Bethany Windview from the Republic, Arslan Alaar and Tarkan Han from the Confederation, and lastly Vlad Mascare from the Empire.

“Why did you just let them go?” Helen asked Rowan.

“Let?” Rowan repeated. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I was outnumbered. I can’t command people that don’t respect my orders. I’m a lot like Verne, in that way—surrounded by bigger players on all sides.” He looked toward the bandit camp. They were on high alert, some already shooting arrows at the approaching students. “But… this suits me fine. They can bite around the edges. I want to strike at the heart. If I’m ever going to bring those ornery kids to heel, I’ve got to show them something worth following.” He looked back. “You eight with me?”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Olivia pointed out. “We’ll follow.”

“We’ll go…” Rowan pointed. “There.”

The area he pointed to seemed to be one of the only genuinely fortified places, where a wooden palisade stood tall. The eight beside Lucian looked confused… but he himself knew better.

“Get ready for a fight,” Rowan commanded. It felt natural to heed the orders.

Rowan started to advance across the field in a light jog. All of them followed behind him, with Lucian standing the closest and Miriam in the back on account of her horse. Lucian knew that fighting wasn’t likely just yet, but still felt it necessary to protect himself.

“Élûn,” Lucian said, and the defensive spell First Sanctuary protected him.

They made it to the palisade without so much of an arrow being fired at them—the same couldn’t be said for the other groups, who contended with archer fire on the outside. Once there, Rowan put his hand to one of the seemingly-firm wooden pillars and pushed. It flipped up out of the earth and toppled backward—it was followed by a few others, each as weakly set as the others. A path cleared before them: a perfect line straight between the hovels these bandits had built.

“How did you…?” Arslan began in surprise—the bulky spear-wielder didn’t seem able to believe it.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I just notice these things, that’s all,” Rowan said confidently, and then advanced. “Be ready. This leads right into the heart of the camp.”

They pressed onward, travelling single-file through the alley between the buildings. When the scene opened up, and Lucian stepped out into a wide-open courtyard…

This is the part where it’d say, ‘mission start,’ and we’d be off to the races.

There were a few bandits around, but they all their backs to Rowan, Lucian, and all the rest as they filtered in. Because of the simple fact that Rowan noticed a flaw in their building, they’d managed to skip all the brutal distance-closing. On a hill in the back was a far grander structure—that was where the bandit’s boss was holed up.

“If you don’t mind…” Lucian said, stepping forward despite his beating heart. “I’ll take the far-left side, go around the back to reach the chief’s hut,” he said, outlining an isolated route with his finger.

“Works for me,” Rowan said, nodding. “You and me, Arslan, we take the right-side approach. Vlad, Olivia—you grab the left. Miriam, Helen—you provide support. Ranged attacks, healing. Bethany, Tarkan—once they figure out we’re here, they’re going to swarm. You watch the rear, stop any and all comers.”

Olivia looked at Lucian. “Lucian could die if he takes that route alone,” she argued. “I saw three men in that approach when we were coming in.”

“Me, die? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Lucian said dryly—he was being more cocksure to hide his own anxiety, he could tell. A habit of his. “I don’t see the problem. Besides… I think you and I both know you won’t get what you want so easily.”

Olivia scowled at him.

“Alright, alright.” Rowan said calmingly, then looked between everyone. “Remember your orders. Don’t deviate. Move!”

As soon as Rowan had given the order, Lucian made his way to the isolated pathway that he’d pointed out. His reasoning for taking this path was simple—it was sandwiched on both side by walls, meaning no archers could get a clean shot. In the War of Four, it had been too thin to allow multiple units to pass at once. He only had to face them one-by-one. And on top of all that…

Good loot, Lucian reflected.

Lucian walked through the hallway as quietly as he could, his hand hovering near the satchel at his waist. He reviewed his plan of attack with every step. The moment that he saw another person standing there in worn Riverran armor and with chipped sword in hand, the plan he’d reviewed half a thousand times fell into place.

Grab the biggest bottle with the triangular base, he reminded himself.

Lucian pulled out the bottle just as the bandit whipped his head over and shouted, “Hey!”

The brigand started to run toward Lucian, sword raised high overhead. He pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and poured it out as he stepped backward. The moment that the liquid made contact with the ground, gnarled thorny vines erupted upward, catching the man. Lucian drained the bottle and tossed it forth, shattering it on the man’s face.

“Come here. Get over here!” the man shouted in rage, thrashing against the vines.

Lucian retrieved a small vial no larger than his pinky. He flipped off the cork with his thumb, then splashed it forth on him.

Morningblight Brew: Weakness to Holy Damage… Lucian reviewed, then held his hand out. “Æshra.”

The purest white butterflies erupted outward. As they tore into the man, he screamed as if he was on fire. Lucian tried to look past him and tune out the scream, but he still saw the anguish on the man’s face as he died. Lucian retreated into reviewing his plan to avoid contemplating what he was seeing.

One of the scarier brigands should come into this hall right after him, Lucian reminded himself. He knows some fire magic. He’s got 22 MAG on hardcore. That could rock my world. But… the vines should still be blocking his path. Hopefully, his natural instinct is the same as in the War of Four’s. If not… I can still do it myself.

Lucian saw some movement, and a few moments later a black hooded brigand appeared in his vision. They briefly locked eyes before the man held out his hand and said an incantation.

“Rhaum Vaal!” the mage shouted.

A two-word incantation—powerful. A ball of fire surged out. Lucian ducked by instinct, but it hit the man still trapped in the vines and quickly began to spread to the greenery and burn it away. He didn’t know whether it was deliberate or not, but Lucian was quick to reach into his satchel and retrieve the next part of this equation.

Lucian grasped around his satchel until he felt the only bottle not filled with liquid, but with something sandy. He pulled it out, yanked off the cork, and then hurled its contents outward. The fire seemed to wrap around the grains of Starflint and accelerate it, and in moments a sizable explosion of green fire rocketed outward, clearing all of the path ahead and leaving the faintest, disappearing smoke trail.

He has 64% fire affinity. He’ll survive that, but it should stun him, Lucian reflected, seizing his spear as he ran forward. This brigand has low CON—7. Meaning…

Lucian ran through the now-empty hall, where the heat from that blast still persisted. When he found the mage coming to his feet, he didn’t hesitate. He lunged out with his spear, days and days of training enabling him to hit right where he wanted—the neck. The man thrashed only once before falling to the ground.

This guy’s wearing a Wardchain. Halves damage from mundane projectiles.

Lucian reached down. He’d been wanting to ignore what he’d done, but as he reached to the man’s neck to yank off the necklace, he saw his handiwork. He pulled free the gleaming silver necklace, but it was stained with some of the man’s blood. Lucian tried to put it on, but his hands were shaking and it took a few times to catch the clasp.

Lucian picked up his spear and continued onward, pushing his thoughts away.

Second house on the right, he reflected, looking around briefly before ducking inside. There was a good deal of gold on the table, and he removed his satchel so that he could sweep it inside. Once he’d done that, he looked to the chests. They weren’t small enough to bring with him easily, and once the river changed course, they’d get washed away. He retrieved a round-bottom bottle with mercury-like liquid sloshing around inside.

Ordinarily you’d need Vlad. He’s a character that knows how to pick locks, and they give the tutorial for that here, Lucian thought as he popped open the bottle, then kneeled before the chest. But potions solve all ills.

He poured the Lockbane into the lock’s hole. Smoke emerged just after it. After a few moments, he was able to pry the chest open. A necklace waited within.

Trash necklace, but sells for a lot, he remembered of the first chest, then moved to the second.

Good ring for sword-and-shield—might give to Rowan, might sell…

And the third chest had a crown, which was useful only for selling. He’d used all of his Lockbane, and tossed the empty bottle aside.

With all of those items tucked safely into his satchel, Lucian proceeded back out. Once outside, there was a straight-shot to the back entrance of the bandit chief’s hut. It was blocked by a formidable looking man wielding an axe. Lucian approached, his spear held at attention.

No reliable tricks for this one, Lucian thought. He has higher physical stats than me. But I have spells, meaning range. And I have healing, meaning better survivability.

Lucian approached the bandit, intent on putting his training to the test.