[Memory] Safe Haven

[Laveriel]

Safe Haven

19th of Glade, Year 118 of the Age of Steel

“Rava!”

Her head swiveled up at the sound of her false name. Rava was the name of her neighbor’s youngest daughter back in Auris. They used to play together in her backyard until their family moved to the countryside. It was easier for her to use familiar names, less likely for her to mess it up.

Kadyn was standing in front of her table, hands crossed as he inspected the jars of sinew thread and blood liqueur she had been working on. “Are you planning on stocking every hospital in Kalzasi? I think we have enough for us to last the entire year.”

Veriel looked out the window to see the soft golden light of the sun sinking between the trees, filtering through the cracked window of the clinic. It was then she felt the stiffness in her joints, the slight soreness as she straightened her spine. Maybe she was overdoing it. She laughed as she closed the last jar. “It’s better to be prepared and don’t worry, I am planning to charge you for the extra hours.”

“You’re planning on running me broke so you can set up your own clinic, don’t you?” he teased. “But seriously go home. You’ve made so much ichor, it must have been taxing for you.”

It was, but she really didn’t mind it. Still, it was getting late.

With a dramatic sigh, she made a show of packing up her things. Veriel peered into their mini ward, with all three beds filled. There was Miri, a young woman who fell off a horse and broke her arm. Ugur, the old man who lived alone on the edge of the village who had a hard time breathing these few days. And lastly, Jorgie, a child who had been having high fevers but still had the energy to keep playing hide and seek in the clinic. They all seemed fine so it should be safe for her to go home.

“Don’t forget to bring me Harr’s sweet rolls tomorrow,” Jorgie called out as she headed for the front door.

"Only if you promise not to hide in our supply closet anymore," she replied playfully.

It had been good, working at Kadyn’s clinic. The young man’s a physician from the city who preferred to work far from the hubbub of civilization. She mostly acted as his assistant and provided necromancy to help. Getting into a routine had always helped her forget about her reality, that she was still on the run.

Just as her hand rested on the knob of the front door, she heard the shrill bell. It had been a while since she heard it, but they all knew what it meant.

Bandits.

[Grigori al Myros]

Safe Haven
19 Glade 118 AoS

Grigori's cloak was pulled up, shrouding his handsome face as he strolled towards the edge of the city. Strapped to his waist was his rapier, but he didn't feel the need to carry it in the open. Not out here. Often his walks would bring him to this side of the city, essentially into the wilderness, as he set out to think and meditate on his craft. The hustle and bustle of the city was distracting enough, but being a Kozoku's son brought with it enough attention that he would be attending people all day. That was Zevan's specialty; Grigori craved the silence of the wilderness.

Deft footfalls drew him slickly through the thinning crowds, and he made sure not to bump or make contact with anyone as he moved. Any attention would bring his identity to the forefront, which defeated the purpose of the walk. Instead, he made it a game of dodging in between the landscape and the citizenry, imagining that he was dancing through foes on a battlefield, using the terrain to his advantage as he flowed around the resistance. He smiled softly under the hood, letting his feet take him where they may.

He'd made the trek many times, countless even, to a small glade that Dalm had recommended so that he may meditate on his blade. It was secluded, and though it was sometimes used by youthful lovers as a secret meeting place, it was often the solitude that he needed. It was a place sacred to him, and one he would not suffer to lose due to losing his anonymity. As he passed a group of armored warriors, though, he raised his eyes enough to meet their faces, taking in their grim visages before sliding by them. He was unsure of their allegiance, but their presence felt wrong. It was too far from the city proper for a diplomatic retinue, and their donned arms and armor told him that they were here looking for something... Or someone. He continued on his journey.

It wasn't long before he realized they were heading in the same direction he was. At first, it crossed his mind that perhaps they were following him, but how could they know who he was? He was sure there was no glimmer of recognition from the warrior whose eyes he'd met, and he didn't recognize the sigils they bore on their shields and armaments. No, they had to be going in the same direction for a different reason. If he were a more curious man, he might instead dally so that he might instead follow them to their destination. Rather, he continued along the path that skirted by Kadyn's clinic, an off-the-beaten-path infirmary that prided itself on quiet and attentive care for its patrons. He'd passed the building many times, but rarely paid it any mind. This time, however, his focus was drawn to the building and he lingered for a moment, something pulling at his brain.

He was correct; the armored men stopped at the door of the clinic, and after conversing among themselves outside of his earshot, they began rapping on the door. The sound was loud and jarring, echoing off the growing forest to reverberate off tree and stone. Three loud raps, a pause, and three more. Whoever these men were, they meant business, and Grigori had a feeling that the business wasn't cordial. He instead crouched next to a tall tree, watching from afar as they men assailed the door in search of their quarry. If it was Kadyn, Grigori could not imagine what crime these men would levy against the healer. If there was another in the clinic... He doubted Kadyn would keep company with the sorts that would require a full military escort. Either way, the warrior in his instructed him to stay, to watch to see how this played out... And should it come to blows, perhaps get a few licks in himself. And so he sat, body coiled like a spring ready to leap into action.

[Laveriel]

Kadyn burst out of his office, face pale and movements frantic. He ran his hand through his light hair. This was not the first time they were targeted by outlaws. The clinic was a bit of a distance away from the rest of the village, so they were left alone most of the time. Although two seasons ago, people did break in. Fortunately, it was just Kadyn and her back then. They were told to lay on the ground as the bandits looted their supplies. One of them kicked Kadyn on their way out, but other than that they were left unharmed.

Veriel wondered if they would be so lucky again. But the pounding on the door signaled otherwise. The physician shoved her aside to open the door himself. “I’ll deal with it. Go to the ward.”

The siltori pressed her lips together. She couldn’t say that she was a warrior, that she would more likely survive whoever it was than he would. But she couldn’t so she nodded and did as he asked.

“What’s going on?” Miri asked as soon as she entered the room, already sitting up from her bed.

“Bandits, I think.” To her side Jorgie squealed in fear. “We will be fine. They just want to take our things. As long as we listen to them, we’ll be alright, okay?”

She could hear the conversation happening outside. Kadyn failed in convincing them that he was the only one inside and she could hear a rough voice demanding everyone to come out. Or else.

Veriel went to Ugur’s side. She threw his arm over her shoulder and helped the frail man up. Even that slight exertion made him cough, his body shaking through it. “Let’s all get out together, alright?”

Slowly, the four of them inched for the exit. Jorgie clung to her skirt, while Miri walked in front of them with lips trembling. Just before she stepped outside, the elf took off her braid so that her hair framed her face, hiding her pointed ears. It was better to not stand in times like this.

She shuffled slowly with the sick man through the doorway, sneaking a quick look at their assailants. There were five of them, all men in their twenties and thirties. If they bore any identification, Veriel did not have the time to see it. Their armor was of good quality and the weapons were exceptionally made, their faces too clean. No ragtag group of misfits would have access to such gear.

Kadyn was already kneeling on the ground, his hand behind his head. Miri quickly did the same and pulled Jorgie down. Veriel helped the old man kneel slowly to the ground, before doing so herself. She kept her head down, hiding most of her face. Her heart thundered as she watched a pair of boots approaching them, inspecting them one by one until it stopped in front of her.

A hand shot out, grabbing her face and forcing her to look up. She was met with green eyes. Its owner was probably in his mid-twenties. He was clean-shaven and his blonde hair slicked to perfection. This was no common bandit.

“Her.”

Before she could react, her head was slammed down. The rough ground stung her cheeks and bitter dirt entered her mouth. Her first instinct was to struggle, but pain flared as the man pressed his boot down on her head harder. Beside her, she could see Kadyn and the patients watching them with wide, fearful eyes. Jorgie was shaking, tears rimming his eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she reassured the child. “Just listen to what they say.”

Was it the Inquisition? Did they find her again? Or were they truly just bandits?

Veriel knew she was overthinking it. But if these people were truly common criminals and she fought back, her cover would have been blown and she would have to leave this village she called home for the past year. The mere thought of having to run again weighed heavily in her chest.

She could hear them talking between each other and she glanced up. Her eyes met Kadyn’s and she tried to subtly shake her head. Instead of resignation, she could see his blue eyes hardening. His hands clenched into fists and his whole body tensed. The doctor was planning on doing something foolish. He had lost his eldest sister to bandits. He had been the one to find her lifeless body, beaten to death in the woods not too far from his childhood home. He wouldn’t be thinking straight.

With surprising speed, Kadyn jumped to his feet and tackled the man holding her down. “Run, Rava! Just go!” he cried out, struggling to pin the man on the ground.

As the two men grappled on the ground, Veriel rose to her feet, eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. Miri and Jorgie would be able to run, but Ugur wouldn’t. There was no way she could leave them and live with herself. But standing their ground would do no good. Kadyn was no fighter and the rest were sick.

It turned out she had no time to decide. Behind Kadyn, one of the men unsheathed his sword, rearing back to strike the physician down.

There was no time to reach him before the blade.

Her silver eyes lit up and the markings on her body glowed as her aether churned. A rush flowed through her veins, as it always did when she called upon her magic. Iratallin materialized in her left hand and in a split of a second she threw the blade. It flew straight and true, right into the man’s chest.

Everything went quiet. Even the birds in the trees. The man’s eyes widened as he looked down at the sword embedded in him. His raised sword slipped from his fingers. Blood gushed out the wound as he fell to his knees. But that wasn’t the end of it. As the curse encasing the blade took hold, a hundred different lacerations seemingly appeared out of thin air all over his body. His pain multiplied by the curse he let out a terrifying shriek.

All eyes turned to her. The man standing the furthest away was the only one who didn’t look surprised. Instead he grinned and gave her a dramatic bow, one full of joy and excitement. The face of a child opening a gift he had been waiting for forever. “What an honor to meet you, Dread Witch.”

[Grigori al Myros]

Safe Haven
19 Glade 118 AoS

The noble son watched as the events unfolded before him. Kadyn, the physician that ran the clinic, answered the door, and immediately began to negotiate with the band of men. They were tense, Grigori could tell, but no matter what the doctor told them, they did not seem to believe him. One of them lifted a gauntleted fist and Kadyn fell to his knees, lacing his fingers behind his head. He looked back towards the clinic, seemingly trying to protect the infirm within, but Grigori knew that the warriors were demanding that everyone come outside for inspection. Certain these men were not just common bandits, Grigori began creeping forward towards the confrontation, using trees and shrubs to hide his approach. Each footfall was carefully placed, so as to not alert the men to his presence, though they seemed to be focused on whomever was in the building.

Out came the sick, a man, two women and a young boy. Grigori bit down on his teeth, clenching as he watched the warriors force them all to their knees. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his rapier, and he waited to see where this would go. The men checked each of the ill, going between them and searching their faces. It wasn’t until they got to the final woman that Grigori realized what was happening: the warriors were looking for someone specific. And it appears they found her.

He flinched when the armor-clad man slammed her face to the ground and put his boot on her head. He knew that it must have hurt, but the woman gave little indication, and instead she laid there submissively. Grigori could feel the air crackling with tension, and he knew before Kadyn moved that he was going to. Even from where he was, Grigori could see the doctor’s fists balling and his legs tensing beneath him. Before Kadyn leaped to his feet, Grigori was already moving, darting forward to intervene and help the man and his charges.

Up Kadyn came, and he tackled the man whose boot held the woman on the ground. “Rava”, he had called her, and he told her to run. It happened in an instant, but it felt like an eternity; one of the men raised a sword to strike down the physician, and the woman reacted in a way that Grigori could have never expected… She summoned her blade and threw it into the warrior’s chest, stopping him cold. However, of all the Reaving he’d seen training with Dalm, he could not have expected the thousands of little cuts that erupted from the man’s flesh, and his scream was enough to curdle the young noble’s blood in his vein.

Adrenaline pumping, Grigori entered the scene just as the man bowed, calling the Reaver a title that made the hairs on his neck stand. “Dread Witch,” the Inquisitor called her, and Grigori could not imagine what a woman would have to do to earn such a moniker. Being behind the the group of men, directly facing Rava, Grigori’s heart pounded as he met her eyes beyond the bowing man. Something unspoken passed between them, and Grigori too allowed his aether to flow, drawing from it the slender rapier that he’d grown so accustomed to summoning. Like Rava’s, his weapon was meant for war, and as he approached the man from behind, he slashed at the thigh of one of the men holding the sick woman on her knees. Pact blade met the man’s flesh, and when he turned to look at Grigori, his face was full of surprise. Whether he had not expected another combatant, or he was surprised that the blow had actually landed, he faltered and let the woman go. Pirouetting around the now-bleeding warrior, Grigori intercepted one of the remaining four men on his way to grab Kadyn. He planted his feet and launched a stout kick to the man’s chest, knocking him back and allowing Kadyn to get his feet underneath himself. Kadyn and Grigori circled around to stand next to Rava, and Grigori locked eyes with the clean-shaven man who had called her a Dread Witch.

“My name is Grigori al Myros, son of Kozoku Khul al Myros. Before this charade continues, I demand that you present whatever evidence you have to accost this woman, and assault this establishment. Failure to do so will result in the full weight of Kalzasi law raining down on you,” Grigori said, holding the man’s gaze defiantly. It was not often that he would levy his father’s influence, especially when he sought so desperately to avoid being associated with his family. In this instance, however, he felt as though the weight of his authority might persuade the warrior to explain himself. It might cause him to falter at least.

Behind him, the forest stretched and began to thicken. They were only a short run to the hidden glade, and if the need arose, he would guide his new compatriots to that place to hide them. He could tell, though, that neither Kadyn nor this Rava woman would leave the other three, even if it meant an all-out battle with the remaining four warriors. He had no doubt that Rava could hold her own, but he worried about Kadyn, and he worried about the men using the sick people as bargaining chips, or worse; hostages.

[Laveriel]

Her blood turned cold as she heard his tongue rolling the words of a title she had gained a long time ago. The Imperium then. Her moniker had been lost to time as the white towers of Ailos crumbled. Except for the Imperium. She had been one of the few higher-ranking knights to have successfully escaped the siege. Even to this day, they still sought valuable secrets she might not even have about her order.

Veriel didn’t have a real plan. Not at all. She could take out soldiers no problem, but her every encounter with Imperials always included an Inquisitor, which meant a mage trained to fight. That would significantly lower her chances of victory against multiple opponents. Not to mention they were clad in full-bodied armor and armed, while Veriel was wearing her work dress and slippers. Not ideal.

She called back Iratallin to her hand just in time for another figure to jump out of the woods.

He was striking, but unfamiliar. Their eyes met and something settled between them in that split second. A good samaritan who thought he could help. That’s just great. The siltori almost couldn’t stop herself from cursing out loud. It was another person she would need to worry about and that was the last thing she needed. But then, from his hand materialized a sword, a rapier to be exact. His movement was fluid, almost like a dancer floating across the floor. An actual swordsman.

Perhaps she might survive this after all.

With Kadyn distracted at the sight of the new arrival, the imperial managed to kick him away. He doubled over and cursed, but somehow managed to stand and move to stand beside her.

The reaver announced himself as Grigori al Myros as he took to her other side. A nobleman. While she hadn’t familiarized herself with the governmental structure, Veriel was aware enough that a kozoku was an important rank in the city. He wielded his rank, calling upon Kalzasi’s laws.

It worked surprisingly enough.

The one she deduced as the leader laughed. “So we’re doing introductions now… Very well then, my name is Lionel Alberet of the Imperial Inquisition. We are here to capture the Knight-Captain Laveriel d’Revrinti of the Dawnmartyrs for crimes of aiding and abetting the traitor Princess Amelia, causing the Imperial Civil War. Dead or alive.”

Veriel let out a mirthless laugh. She had heard this speech a dozen times before. “I have never even stepped foot in the Imperium and I don’t know who the hell is Princess Amelia. But you already knew that.”

The inquisitor shrugged dispassionately. “It doesn't matter if you are not personally involved. Your order is guilty of them and in extension so are you.”

“Your emperor lied to you, but I don’t have the patience to correct that.” The first few times the siltori had encountered the imperials, she always tried to reason with them. Tried painstakingly to explain that what they knew was wrong. That the dawnmartyrs don’t involve themselves in foreign politics. All it did was give them the chance to catch her off guard. Every single time.

“Isn’t this evidence enough? You are protecting a murderer and a liar.” Lionel gestured at the injured man on the ground. His chest still heaved with effort, but they were short and shallow. If he didn’t get any help, it wouldn’t long until he succumbed to her curse. “We have no qualms with Kalzasi. We’re simply hunting for a dangerous criminal. She needs to answer for her crime to the Gelerian Imperium and we will not tolerate anyone who stands in our way.” It seemed like Lionel was still trying to sway the mysterious man who had suddenly come to her assistance. Perhaps he didn’t want to risk shedding noble blood. No doubt it would cause some political snag.

Her eyes turned to catch Grigori’s, praying in her heart that he would not simply take these men’s words and decided that she was guilty after all. Admittedly the thousand cuts curse did not reflect well on her. She was certainly no shining example of a paladin that people would have imagined dawnmartyrs to be.

Whatever happens next, at least she needed to get everyone else away. “Then let them go,” Veriel demanded, gesturing at the three patients and Kadyn. She could see Miri shaking on her knees, while Ugur simply stared at their assailants defiantly. “They have nothing to do with this.”

“And give you the chance to wield your entire arsenal without worrying about hurting anyone? That’s no fun.” He tapped his right foot on the ground as if in thought. The wind suddenly picked up around them and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. This was no ordinary breeze. “I have a much better idea! Surrender yourself peacefully and we’ll consider forgiving everyone else for obstructing our duty. A generous offer, don’t you think?”

[Grigori al Myros]

Safe Haven
19 Glade 118 AoS

The Imperium. Grigori frowned, observing the man with a discerning eye. If this woman was in fact Laverial d'Revrinti, any crimes she had committed in Galeria would be hers to answer. In Galeria. Holding his ground, and Lionel's eye, Grigori allowed Rava her piece, absorbing the information. He did not know this woman, nor did he know this Inquisitor, but from the situation unfolding in front of him, he found himself believing the Reaver. His intuition was quickly proven correct, as she implored the apathetic inquisitor to release the others. It was the right move, but he knew before Lionel even answered that the man had no intention of doing so.

"If you truly believe this woman to be Laverial d'Revrinti, and you are here to remand her to the Imperium to answer for her crimes, you cannot in good conscience hold the rest of these people. Your fear--" he cut himself short as the air began to stir around them. He was not familiar with Elementalism in practice, but he could feel the air charge around him and knew that aether was being levied. Bending his knees, Grigori readied himself for combat. He'd never fought another mage that wasn't Dalm, and even then only in a non-lethal spar, but he knew that magic was dangerous, and it was obvious that Lionel would not stray from his mission. Not now.

"The law of Kalzasi does not allow a foreign dignitary to retrieve or extradite a criminal without consent of the Shokaze. It is not too late to end this altercation here and allow the law to reign. No matter the power afforded to you by the Imperium, I cannot allow you to simply seize her here. Her defense of her friend and ally does not incriminate this woman in regards to the crimes you have levied against her. Stand down, and this can be settled through the proper authorities," he said, "legally" he added. He watched for a change in the man, but knew none would be forthcoming.

"However, if you insist on pursuing this course, I am honor bound to defend the law of Kalzasi, and as such, this woman." Grigori moved his eyes slowly from Lionel to his remaining retinue, looking each man in his eye. He had to give them the chance to do the right thing, but this encounter had already soured him to the ways of the Inquisition already. These men would not leave her without a fight, and Grigori knew that Rava's first concern would be to protect the four innocents before herself. Already aware of his surroundings, Grigori began to devise a strategy.

The Inquisitors, now four after Rava's devastating blow to the man on the ground, had the numbers advantage. With the mage, presumably trained for combat, that made the fight all the more dangerous. But Grigori knew these woods, knew the terrain. He could use the trees and the clinic for cover, and with proper movement, it was possible to eliminate the men quickly without taking much damage. As his mind raced, he didn't know the suble movements from one of the men to Lionel's side, and then, in the blink of an eye, the man appeared behind Rava and wrapped his arms around her, binding her.

On instinct, Grigori spun and raised the hilt of his rapier, slamming the rounded pommel into the man's face and smashing his nose. Blood spattered from the shattered feature, gushing down the man's face. Dazed, he loosened his grip enough for Rava to break free, and the melee had begun. Grigori darted to his right, diving forward and rolling to create space betwen himself and Rava, opening their angle of attack. Stepping forward with his rapier raised, he stood between the sick patients and the Inquisitors, and no longer believing that diplomacy was an option, he set to the attack. He stalked forward, isolating on of the men, who drew his longsword. The two squared off against one another, Grigori light on his feet, the Inquistor planted and stout. Grigori watched the man intently, trying to discern his next move. His weapon was not meant to face multiple combatants, but if Dalm had taught him anything, it was that battle was not often fair, and almost never predictable. Going on the offensive, Grigori attacked.

He lunged forward, stabbing quickly with the rapier. The Inquisitor's armor would prevent slashing, at least on the majority of his body, so he had to hope that the razor sharp point could pierce the steel enough to score a blow. As he got close, the seasoned warrior batted his sword away, and Grigori allowed the momentum to redirect his movement, instead spinning around the man. The inquisitor followed, turning quickly and slashing with his sword. Grigori felt the force of the blow as he deflected the edge of the longsword with the flat of his blade.

That's going to hurt later, he thought, but focused instead on the man in front of him. With the longsword now pushed harmlessly to the side, Grigori closed the gap, pushing inside the weapon's range. Instead of using his rapier, Grigori lashed out and punched the inquisitor. The blow caught him by surprise, and gave Grigori enough pause to notice one of the other inquisitors closing the gap. Now two on one, Grigori fell back and readied his rapier, holding it out at the two men. Believing that Rava could hold her own, he prepared to engage both foes at once, just as the wind around them began to whip into a frenzy. Lionel needed to go. Looking at Rava over the men's shoulder, he had to hope that she would take care of the mage. She was definitely the more formidable of the two.

[Laveriel]

Veriel knew better than anyone that expecting human decency and mercy from an imperial was a foolish notion. This time it was no different. His answer wasn’t surprising, but it fueled her fury nonetheless.

Five sword duplicates manifested just above her head, all sporting the sinister markings that distinguished her weapons from her fellow dawnmartyrs who often wielded light and fire. Four against two. Not the best odds. Especially considering she had no idea what skills they had.

As if in answer to her thoughts, one of them blinked into thin air. Arms suddenly seized her from behind and she thrashed. But, Grigori was faster and slammed his sword against her attacker’s face. She threw her elbow against his ribs and twisted away from the grip. She gave the stranger a grateful look, not sure if he would have even noticed.

The transverser would be a pain to deal with, but hopefully Grigori could keep him occupied. There was no way for her to tell how skilled of a mage he was, but she would just have to believe that he would manage.

In the corner of her eyes, Kadyn was scrambling to urge Ugur and Jorgie to start moving. Miri didn’t need any encouragement and darted into the woods by herself. The young doctor’s eyes met hers, wide and confused, and she acknowledged it with a nod. Her heart sank at the thought of losing these connections. Ones she had built for almost a year, the trust she had gained. Now, all she would be was a woman who lied and endangered their lives.

One of the imperials didn’t miss it. The man began moving towards them, his hand reaching for an arrow strapped to his back. Before he could even nock it, one of her blades flew to intercept him. He managed to dodge its sharp edge, but it was enough to make him hesitate about pursuing them as the sword hovered in front of his face. Her duplicates currently didn’t carry any affliction, but her opponents didn’t know that yet. Their hesitance would buy her time.

Unfortunately, that effort cost her. Veriel noticed the elementalist’s gesture too late and a gale yanked her off her feet. It was like being rammed by a cart filled with steel. The elf was thrown sideways into the air for a split second. She slammed into the nearest tree, knocking the breath out of her.

“You can’t afford to be distracted, knight-captain. I demand your full attention.” The humor in his tone was pissing her off. Lionel unsheathed his own blade, a falchion from the looks of it.

Veriel gritted her teeth as she stood. “Oh, you got it alright.”

She closed the distance between them, sprinting with a pact blade in her hand and duplicates hovering just above her head. The reaver sent one of them first, aimed straight at the inquisitor’s face. A pillar of dirt shot out from the ground in front of him, blocking her dancing sword.

The siltori did not pause as the man was finally in her reach. Iratallin in hand, Veriel slashed at him. He raised his blade just in time to parry it away, leaping back to distance themselves. Despite his bravado, Lionel kept his eyes on the sword. She never quite figured out just how much information the Imperium had on her, but he had the basics, at least.

One nick from Iratallin and they both know he would be finished.

The wind picked up again, but the emblem on her back radiated with silver light, visible through the thin fabric of her dress. Dominion flowed through her veins - the high that came with it was something she could never quite get used to. She sent three of her blades toward him, all from different directions.

When the earth columns rose to deflect the blade from attacking his flank and back, it exposed his front. The siltori dashed forward once more at the opening and the kick she delivered to his stomach, strengthened with divine gift, sent him sprawling on his back.

All she needed to do was stab him when he was down, but the world wasn’t so kind. The young imperial archer tackled her down and her blade slipped from her fingers. Veriel cursed in silandris as she fell, her head slamming into something - most, likely a rock. She could feel the warm blood trickling down her head, but the pain was imperceptible. At least that meant he had turned away his attention from Kadyn and the rest.

The young man looked triumphant as he rolled on top of her. At least before, she slammed her fist into his throat. To his credit, he kept his weight on her, pinning her down. But it didn’t really matter.

As they struggled, the aether inside of her swirled and twisted, creating a concoction of pain as it drew from the wound on her head. It took her only a few moments before she grabbed his face and sent the affliction right into him. As he cried out in surprise, Veriel shoved him off her.

She may not be the warrior she used to be, but she’d be damned if she got killed by a bunch of novice inquisitors.

[Grigori al Myros]

Grigori

---

19 Glade 118 AoS

---

Grigori knew that the inquisitors had found their mark, and as such, they were not as concerned with Kadyn and his wards. However, he had heard Lionel tell Rava that without them, the inquisitors lost a large defensive benefit, and as such, Grigori felt compelled to keep them safe. Between the inquisitors and Kadyn and crew, Grigori planted his feet and braced for an attack. If these two broke rank to chase the doctor, it would allow Grigori to focus on Lionel and the archer with Rava, but might mean losing the doctor and patients as well. Torn, he had to hope that they let the innocents escape, and from the corner of his eye, he saw them doing just that. Without taking his eyes from the warriors before him, Grigori shouted back.

"Kadyn! 80 F, 30 L, Sanctuary lies beyond the knotted veil!" It was a code, but one he hoped Kadyn would understand. The doctor was familiar with the woods, and while he may not know where the secluded grove was, eighty meters forward and thirty more to the left would lead him to a large tree whose thick leaves blocked the hidden entrance to the glade. He had to hope that was sufficient, because the two inquisitors used the opportunity to begin their advance.

The one with the longsword took a menacing step forward, and the Traverser drew a shortsword and a dirk. Before he could react, the traveling mage teleported behind him and kicked him in the small of his back, blasting the air from his lung and launching him towards the longsword, which was already in motion to intercept the young noble. Desperately sucking in air, Grigori tucked his head and rolled with the momentum, barely diving below the swinging sword. The air blew his hair back, but otherwise he was unwounded. Landing hard on his back and forcing himself to spring to his feet, Grigori turned to face the men once again. The mage was smiling, but the other was determined to finish Grigori so they could aid their leader. Grigori drew the mundane rapier from its scabbard, now holding a blade in each hand. One blade for each warrior, for better or worse.

The inquisitors separated, each approaching from a different angle. Grigori pushed forward with a cautious stab, testing their range and causing them to hitch their advance. The longsword had the reach advantage, but was much slower than Grigori's own swords, and the mage had to close the distance to attack, which he could do with just a though. Mind racing, Grigori weighed his options for attack and decided that defense would be the better play for now.

He wanted to check on Rava, to see how she fared against her opponents, but he could not move his focus from his own. He just needed an opening, and then he would capitalize. He didn't have a cursed blade, like Rava, but Dalm had taught him that in war, there was only one win condition: killing your opponent. And these men had come to war.

Now on his left and right, the inquisitors pushed their advantage. The traveler darted in quickly, using the speed and size of his weapons to allow him to get in close. The sword came in, and with deftly batted away by the mundane rapier, but the dirk was too quick to redirect his sword. The bulbous blade slashed into Grigori's shoulder, nearly causing him to drop the rapier. But Grigori didn't have time to even consider losing the weapon, because a devastating chop from the longsword on his left demanded his immediate attention. Sidestepping at the last second, he watched the larger sword slam into the earth, cutting a divet. Before the inquisitor could lift the sword, Grigori slashed at the hand holding it, clinking harmlessly off a chainmail glove. Unable to push the advantage any further due to the traveler, Grigori danced away and put distance between himself and his enemies. Once again, the began to circle to opposite sides.

Something had to change. He could not allow them to attack together; he had to press one and force the other to close the distance. Considering the traveler could do that instantly, he knew he needed to attack the mage and force the other man to enter to the fray. Spinning quickly, he rocked back on his heels and sprung forward, hoping to catch the mage off guard. He almost did, and the rapier glanced the man's cheek, leaving a thin line of crimson. Enraged, the mage leaped away and Grigori turned to face the longswordsman, who was closer than he'd have thought. The inquisitor was surprisingly agile for his encumbrance, and Grigori parried a blow with his pact weapon, riposting with a tricky stab from the mundane rapier. The blade finally found purchase in between the links of the chainmail, gouging at the warrior's shoulder and causing him to wince.

"Your pathetic pigsticker won't save you, idiot noble," the warrior growled, but Grigori could tell that the wound had taken him by surprise. He didn't have time to celebrate, as the mage teleported to his side. Once again acting on instinct, Grigori pivoted and turned away a stab from the shortsword before leaping back on his heels to dodge the dirk stab. Reversing his momentum, Grigori attempted to thrust with his Pact weapon, but it suddenly disappeared from his hand and reappeared in the Traversal mage's hand. Unfortunately for the mage, Grigori countered that by recalling the weapon instantly, once again pressing the attack. The thrust caught the mage unawares, and the pact weapon bit through the mage's shoulder deep enough for the tip to find purchase in bone. Howling, the mage retreated, brandishing his sword gingerly from an openly bleeding arm. Turning on his heel, Grigori instinctively thrust the sword in his off-hand and met steel chestplate, with the longswordsman standing within blade's reach. Instead of attacking with the sword, he kicked Grigori square in the chest, blasting him from his feet and onto his back. Now looming over him, the inquisitor raised his blade to finish the nobleman, but Grigori's foot came up and slammed into the man's genitals, doubling him over. Immediately, Grigori smashed the warrior's skull with the pommel of his pact weapon, knocking him unconscious. Leaping to his feet, he turned toward the wounded mage, finally getting a one on one fight.

---

"For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim's time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort."
— Aldous Huxley

[Laveriel]

The affliction was hastily made, but it would be enough to cripple the inquisitor for a bit before fading out. The other one, the mage, was slowly starting to rise, clutching his chest and crying out at the slightest movements. If she had to guess, her kick had broken a rib or two.

Veriel was afforded a brief moment to recall Iratallin to her hand and assess the situation. Kadyn and his patients were gone. She had no idea what Grigori had yelled at him. She couldn’t even tell if he heard it, but he was nowhere in sight by the time she scanned her surroundings. The knot in her chest loosened slightly. At least they were out of imminent danger. One less thing for her to worry about. Then she turned to the nobleman, just in time to see him knock one of the inquisitors unconscious.

Seeing that she was standing again, Lionel shot out his hand and fireballs flew at her. They were poorly aimed so she managed to evade them. The trees weren’t so lucky though and some of them began catching on fire.

Then she felt something inching up her legs. She looked down to see the wet earth climbing just above her ankles and then hardening, locking her into place. Damn it. By then, the archer had shakily gotten on his feet. The effects of the pain must be lessening with the time passing. He pulled out his hunting knife and ran at her.

The siltori parried the knife with her sword, but he had another trick up his sleeve. Pulling out an arrow from his quiver, he stabbed the arrow head right into her right shoulder. She used Iratallin to tear at him, but he managed to leap back just in time. With a cry, Veriel yanked out one of her feet and ignored the pain that flared up following it.

Just as she freed her other foot, the archer charged and took her down one more time. He raised his knife over his head, but Veriel was faster. She summoned Dawnstrife and slashed the blade across his throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on her face and she closed her eyes to avoid being blinded by it. The elf could hear him choking in his own blood, lungs slowly drowning. She shoved him off one more time as she felt his body go limp. It was as merciful of a death she could give him. Better than succumbing to her hex, at least.

Her legs were unsteady as she stood, wavering for a split of a second. She looked down at herself. At the torn skirt caked in dirt, the bodice drenched in blood. The arrow was still firmly buried in her shoulder. During the struggle, Veriel had even lost one of her slippers. Her eyes immediately met Lionel’s.

Gods, she just wanted this over it.

Right on cue, a rock the size of her head flew toward her and the siltori rolled away to avoid it. It punched through the wall of the clinic instead, landing with a loud crash. The only reason Veriel was able to dodge it cleanly was by the speed Dominion had allowed her use. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but the longer she spent the divine blessing, the worse it would be for her by the end of it.

“You’ll pay for this,” Lionel growled. His breath was shallow, as if every one he took was painful. Gone was his confidence, all that left was hatred. He looked at his comrades, unmoving on the ground.

Veriel held his hostile gaze steadily as her hands tightened on both of her pact weapons. With each five duplicates of her swords solidifying, she turned them all to face the inquisitor. “I don’t think I will.”

[Grigori al Myros]

Grigori

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19 Glade 118 AoS

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The Traverser wasted no time after his friend was dispatched, flitting in with a flurry of blows designed to throw off Grigori's guard. Blade rung against his Pact weapon, the clang of metal on metal loud and clear in the forest. The wound in the mage's shoulder was preventing him from attacking from a wide angle, and Grigori parried all blows towards the outside. The pain was uncomfortable, Grigori could tell, but would not slow the mage down enough to remove him from the battle. Circling each other, Grigori's eyes aligned with Rava and her fight, and he quickly realized that she had killed the archer.

In his heart, Grigori knew that these men would not allow them to leave, and they were unlikely to surrender themselves to the law of Kalzasi. Even if they did, it was likely they would just be returned to the Imperium and allowed to resume their hunt once again, this time perhaps taking Rava by surprise with no allies. He began this fight hoping to neutralize the inquisitors without killing them, but these men were at war, and as Dalm once told him...

"Only the dead know the end of war," Grigori said out loud, his hushed tone cutting through the rushing winds of sword cleanly. The Traverser heard his words, pausing slightly to look at the nobleman. A fire burned behind Grigori's eyes know, betraying a determination that the mage had yet to see in this fight. With exceptional agility, Grigori exploded into motion, launching a devastating whirlwind of jabs and pokes to drive the mage back and give himself some space.

The Traverser pushed back on his heels, Grigori slashed at the man's chest. The tip of the rapier glanced off the chainmail shirt, but the force of the blow knocked the air from his lungs. Gasping, the mage tried to blink away, but Grigori was faster. He lunged forward, plunging the razor tip of his pact rapier through the chainmail, pressing forward with all his force to penetrate the armor. He felt the slight resistance of the man's abdomen as he pushed, until it gave way and the blade slid cleanly into the mage's belly. A gurgle of blood rushed into his mouth, and as he attempted to speak, dribbled down his chin. Pulling the blade free in one clean pull, Grigori let the man crumble to the ground. He turned to see Rava dodge a thrown stone, and he knew it was time to help her.

Stalking by the inquisitor he knocked unconscious, Grigori casually stabbed the tip of his rapier into the man's throat as he passed, dispatching him without ceremony. Lionel was the true enemy here, the clever one who led them here and assaulted this clinic. Growling as he joined the fray, Grigori entered from the opposite side of Rava. Lionel, however, noticed his entrance immediately, and a wry grin crept over his face.

"Ah, now we're evening the playing field," he said with false bravado. He knew he was outnumbered, and his lieutenants laid dead behind the nobleman, but Lionel appeared unphased. Quickly, the ground beneath Grigori's feet shifted, throwing him into the air and into a tree. Slamming into the wood, Grigori groaned in pain and slid to the ground, holding his ribs. He looked up just in time to roll away from the stone spike that was flying at him, narrowing avoiding having his head impaled to the tree. Pushing himself to his feet, he held his ribs and gripped his pact weapon, watching as he and Rava squared off against the ekementalist.

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"For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim's time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort."
— Aldous Huxley