Traveler

Little Ala Mhigo had been the same way she’d left it a day prior; lacking a warmth for outsiders and the broiling of tension between the Ala Mhigans to any Ul’dah in sight was as commonplace as ever. Azlyn made sure to arrive well after dinnertime. It had only been a couple days since he left the small hamlet in the desert, but now she felt revigorated to try winning the cooperation of the people once more.

And her hopes laid upon one letter written from Meffrid.

Azlyn tentatively walked into the westside of the hamlet, approaching the ‘Old Bear’ that Meffrid had referred to him. She could tell Gundobald was on guard, he was warily watching her. Before she could open her mouth, he spoke with a subtle touch of hostility. “I thought I made it clear that you are not welcome here.”

She started to bring out her letter, making sure there were any fires nearby. The last thing she needed was for him to burn the sealed letter to cinders like he did to her first piece of evidence. She reluctantly handed it over, explaining quickly what it was. “Captain Meffrid wrote this to you—please give me a chance.”

At the mention of Meffrid’s name the older Ala Mhigan started to open up—his body language loosened from his guarded stance, his arms relaxed and more gestured than before. He opened the letter, reading the contents before he turned his attention to her. She fidgeted in place, nervous that she’d be told to leave.

“You spoke with Meffrid.” His voice a tad gentler than before. Gundobald’s gaze looked over to the gates that led out from Little Ala Mhigo into Eastern Thanalan’s desert plains. “It has been so long since I last heard from him. I had feared him dead—Twelve be praised. For a small Au Ra like yourself, Meffrid speaks highly of you. He sees you as a friend, and any friend of Meffrid’s is a friend of mine.” Gundobald folded the letter neatly, placing it in his back pocket. She wasn’t sure what he would do with it later, but Azlyn was happy that she won the cooperation she needed.

She felt her body release, as the tension had caused her muscles to tighten. “I wanted to apologize for interrupting your dinner the other night. I felt terrible about it afterward.” Azlyn bowed to him earnestly. “I’ll be mindful of that in the future.”

Gundobald crossed his arms, his expression a bit baffled by her sudden apology. “What’s done is done. No need for apologies.” He then thought back. “You were looking into the masked stranger before, yes? I will tell you what I can. This masked man has reportedly been appearing near Little Ala Mhigo of late. What’s more, it seems that some of our youngbloods are meeting him in secret.”

Azlyn frowned at this new set of information. “That doesn’t bode well at all.” Given Lahabrea’s previous actions, she could only assume this would lead to catastrophic proportions if not taken care of now.

Gundobald wrapped a hand around his lower jaw, stroking his white bushy mustache. “No doubt you’ll want to question them about their trysts, but they are not like to yield the information readily to an outsider. If you tell them I sent you, though, they may well feel obliged to talk.” His gruff manner of speaking made it quite apparent that the youths of the settlement either revered him, or were scared of him. Azlyn wasn’t going to judge, as she was a bit terrified of the intimidating aura this man oozed regularly. “Adalind will tell you some more. Go. If she gives you trouble, just point to me.”

She decided to do as he instructed, as he pointed to one of the youths at a tent nearby. As she approached, the young Ala Mhigan lass—probably no more than fifteen or sixteen crossed her arms and huffed at her arrival.

“Couldn’t stay away outsider? Why all the nerve…”

Azlyn sighed, shaking her head. “Gundobald sent me over to speak with you. If you want to go and confirm with him, I’m sure he’d be glad to vouch.” Without looking behind, Azlyn gestured with a fist and thumb back to Gundobald. Whatever sight was behind her must have terrified the lass as she went pale white. It sadly reminded her of the Studiem and some of the strict professors. She could still remember the loud crack of rulers over hands resounding in some lectures, and it felt almost like the tension she felt here.

Although she didn’t think Gundobald was the type to hit his people. Far from it—it was more of less his unapproachable demeanor.

Adalind stammered, her face still pale. “G-Gundobald sent you? I—uh—I told them it was a bad idea! All that tripe about believing the masked man and—”

Azlyn gave her a questioning glance. “I can’t say I know what was a bad idea? Why would you guys want to listen to a masked man with unknown intentions in the first place?” She wasn’t trying to blame her, as she made her tone as light as possible. She was only trying to glean what information she could.

“O-oh…You—you don’t know anything about this? Why didn’t you say so to start with? You can’t throw the old bear’s name around like that and expect me to not think I’m in for it!”

“My bad.” Azlyn shrugged, honestly feeling a bit bad for scaring her. She only did as Gundobald asked her to do.

The girl sighed. “You should talk to Waldhar. He’s standing over there.” She pointed over to the guy in question. He was leaning over a table of wares, checking over the sturdiness.

Azlyn continued her investigation, talking to Waldhar—who wouldn’t budge on giving her any information. Even when she dropped Gundobald’s name, he still wouldn’t budge. She had to resort to asking the other youths, moving to the east side of Little Ala Mhigo to those small campsites. The other guy she spoke to, roughly around the same age group as Adalind and Waldhar seemed to be a funny guy, letting her know that he’d let his friends know she was looking for a masked man, laughing at her.

She forgot how tedious teens were, only remembering that G’raha Tia had similar bouts of foolhardiness when he wasn’t lost in his studies. Azlyn was about to leave when a youth approached her, a troubled look on his face.

“You’re asking about a masked man? There’s a bunch been sulkin’ about right suspicious, like, but I’ve got nothin’ to do with ‘em. I know trouble when I see it, an’ that there’s trouble, mark me words.”

Azlyn thanked him for the information, glad to see some of the youths in town had some common sense. She decided to report back to Gundobald with the news, and already she could tell he was concerned.

“So, you have indeed confirmed my suspicions about a masked man—that is most troubling. Whatever the young ones are scheming, it can lead to no good end. There’s an anger inside them—I can see it in their eyes. I ought to know, for it once burned within me as well.” The older man started to reminisce, explaining to Azlyn some of his history. “Two decades ago, that same anger drove me and my brothers to rise against the despot who ruled Ala Mhigo. Naught would do but to depose him and usher in a revolution. Well, we got our revolution all right—but it cost us our freedom.”

Azlyn thought back, trying to remember in the history books she’d read regarding the Ala Mhigo revolution—a mad king who needed overthrowing—and then the Empire taking advantage of the lost Monarchy.

Gundobald confirmed her facts, “Blinded by our hate, we didn’t realize that we had been dancing to the Empire’s tune. By the time we did, it was too late. Ala Mhigo had fallen.” He sighed, a painful one that only came upon him when he looked back to those days long past. “There are times when a man must be patient. Now is such a time, though the young ones know this not. Unless we intervene, they are like to commit great folly. If you learn aught of their plans, I would thank you to bring word to me. You do look to be around their age—they may open up to you given you prove yourself to them.”

Azlyn wondered if looking young would really be advantageous for her—and inevitably had to agree to it in the end. “If it comes down to blows, I am free to defend myself though?”

The elder quirked up a bushy eyebrow. “Non-lethal if you’re able. They don’t need to die for their stupidity.”

She chuckled and let her grimoire disappear from her side into her magical aether pocket. Instead a pair of hand greaves wrapped around her wrists and knuckles as Azlyn raised her dukes. “But I can punch and kick them however I please?” When she posed in her offensive stance to him, Gundobald laughed. A hearty sound escaping his lips before he nodded. “If they get bested by a small thing like yourself, I’m sure that’d hurt more than being stabbed by a lance or gouged by a sword.”

Azlyn nodded. “Good. I won’t go easy on them either.” She warned, then bid him a good night. With all the crazy activity going on, she decided it would be best to call it a night early, and tackle the rest of the investigation tomorrow. As she was about to leave town, Gundobald followed her out.

“If you’re planning to sleep outside, think again.” He called, directing with a pointed thumb back to the western side of camp. “You can pitch your tent behind mine. There’s enough room for you to sleep and have someone keeping an eye on you.”

The Au Ra blinked, “Oh—well thank you.” She said with a bit of astonishment. “I’ll just head back there to set up camp.” She grinned at last, walking back into Little Ala Mhigo.

“If you run into trouble, give me a call.” Gundobald replied to her when they arrived back at his camp. “This is my linkpearl connection.” He offered, and then frowned. “Don’t be calling me for useless stuff.”

Azlyn chuckled. “I promise I won’t.”

The rest of her night had been peaceful. She pitched her tent up, setting her sleeping bag within the confides. Her tent had seen better days, as there were numerous patches and different colored swatches over the pieces of fabric. It was a five-year-old tent, after all. Azlyn had a small oil lantern, where she lit a small flame within the glass structure. The flame illuminated her tent space well, giving her sight enough to see when dusk settled into a pitch-black sky.

She sprawled on top of her sleeping bag, busily writing several pages worth of her journey thus far. She explained the mishap in Little Solace, and the adventure leading to Buscaron’s Druther’s. She went into details about Totorak, explaining the mechanisms within and the disgusting bugs that inhabited the abandoned dungeon.

She drew quick sketches of the illuminating protocels they found, and even started a preliminary sketch of masked villain they saw—Lahabrea. Her sketches weren’t perfect by any means, as she stared at her finished product. It was hard to depict facials, but the hood and sigil mask over his other mask seemed decent enough. Lastly, she wrote about their new home in Ul’dah, and wrote the address down for them to know. She even spoke of meeting two new friends—both of which were now apart of their Free Company.

The envelope was heavier than her usual ones—hopefully it would be enough to make up for the last two week’s absences of letters. She grabbed her pre-purchased stamps from the moogle postmasters—stamping them with an equitable number of stamps. She hoped in the morning that she could catch the moogle delivering mail.

With the letter taken care of, Azlyn rolled over onto her back—her eyes staring up at her tent’s ceiling wondering what she should do about these kids. Or rather—these teens. It was true she was close to them in age—however she was still at least a decade older than them. And an outsider beside. If she truly wanted to stop Lahabrea from his evildoing in Little Ala Mhigo, she was going to have to think of something.

She reached an arm back, grabbing her lantern and shutting off the light. The flames extinguished leaving her alone in the dark of her tent. She closed her eyes, before finally succumbing to sleep. She would tackle these problems tomorrow, and when she wasn’t as tired.

What should have been a restful night of sleep turned into a short nap; she was awakened by the soft steps of individuals approaching her tent—and what sounded like soft whispers. She could already hear from the tones that she could pick up that they were young—probably the same bunch that were causing trouble in Little Ala Mhigo.

“Shh—the Old Bear finally asleep. It took some time.”

“Shut up idiot! He’ll wake up if you keep talking!”

“Wilred just said to deliver the letter—right? No funny business.”

Azlyn sensed at least four people outside the front flap of her tent. She pretended to remain asleep, wondering what they were trying to do. The soft unzipping of her tent alerted her, but she focused on remaining still. She let her breathing slow, almost imitating sleep.

“Just drop it there.” The teenage boy’s voice was just a hair quieter than it was before, as Azlyn felt a letter drop on the edge of her sleeping bag. With the letter delivered, Azlyn heard them zip back up her tent’s flap and rush away from the scene.

She waited until she couldn’t hear them nearby and pulled herself up. A small envelope, the hand writing was abysmally poor, but legible. She ripped the side of the envelope, and then slid out the small note within.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she found a small map of southern Thanalan, and a circled mark just north of Little Ala Mhigo. Azlyn flipped the map over, and there was only one sentence written. It said:

“Isn’t that interesting.” Azlyn mused to herself, shaking her head. She placed the map and envelope by the head of her sleeping bag. “I guess that makes it easier.” She yawned and decided to catch some more sleep before morning came.

As morning did inevitably come, Azlyn stretched her sore muscles from having uncomfortably laid on the hard ground. Her days of sleeping in an inn and the comforts of a room took away from her usual habit of sleeping anywhere—as her body complained each time she moved. Her tail ached, as if she had slept with it kinked. Her lower back felt as if she slept on boulders. She packed up her belongings, deciding that she was going to solve this situation in Little Ala Mhigo today—even if it took all night. 

Her belongings packed, and a small snack for breakfast, Azlyn made her way to the center of town. She found the postmoogle, hovering by the Immortal Flames Captain she spoke to the previous day. Azlyn gave the moogle her stamped letter, informing him of where it was headed, and who would be receiving it. She then left Little Ala Mhigo, heading around the town and further north into a craggy, mountain pass-like area in Broken Water.

The path was not treacherous by any means, only littered with cacti, reptilian-like creatures that paralyzed their foes, and the occasional horde of flies.

She arrived at the location on the map from the previous night and started to eat another of her cracker snack.

“Thanks for coming, friend!” A young male’s voice drew her attention further into the mountain. He was wearing an armor gearset, matching in it’s grey-blue tone colors. He was a Highlander Hyur, like the rest of his countrymen—his bleach-blonde hair cut short to his head. Bronze-colored skin from years of living underneath the Thanalan sun—Azlyn had to guess he couldn’t be anymore than fifteen or sixteen.

“Are you Wilred? I found this map saying you were interested in meeting me.” Azlyn didn’t beat around the bush, brushing her hands off from the snack she just ate.

The teen smiled to her, his white teeth shown past his lips. “’Tis no ordinary outsider who can gain the trust of the old bear. That’s why I wanted to meet you, to discuss something in private.”

Azlyn smiled back. “That’s interesting, I actually have something I’d like to talk about as well.”

“Awesome. Mind if I go first?” Wilred’s eyes—the mahogany brown irises narrowed a fraction—however he remained jovial. He stopped a few feet shy of where she stood off the path. “Tell me—why are you snooping about? Did the Empire send you? Or someone else?”

His line of questioning caught her by surprise. “What—no.”

Wilred crossed his arms over his bare chest—one of the only few vulnerable spots in his armor set. “Hmph. No matter. Whomever it is you work for, your meddling ends here.” He then raised a hand to his lips, a loud whistle echoing in the area. A group of Ala Mhigan’s approached from all around—all similar ages to Wilred standing by. “Get her!” He yelled, and Azlyn sighed.

Of course—he wouldn’t let her converse civilly. However, she could converse with her fists and feet. She sighed, she had hoped this wouldn’t be some trap to try and ‘shut her up’. It appeared her worries became reality. She entered a defensive stance, raising her fists up to protect her core and sides. Azlyn counted three teens coming at her—while Wilred stood off and away.

The three teens came upon her—all at least a head and a half taller than her—attacking her in a systematic way. She cleanly blocked most of the blows, reflecting and diverting the punches and kicks to her. She reacted when she needed, sidestepping and weaving between. Azlyn planned for it to be like this—wanting them to tire themselves out before she pummeled them.

She waited—bided her time—until they all grew desperate to attack her. Their meticulous planning became their undoing as she patiently played with them.

“Stop moving—so damn—much!” One yelled in anger, now blatantly charging at her. Azlyn could see he was trying to pin her, so the others could get some hits in. Yet she steadily kept her defensive stance. It wasn’t until he was within arm’s reach of her, that she finally delivered four solid connections—each to different points on his body. She performed an upper cut to his lower jaw, disrupting his action. Then with two quick punches, she aimed her second hit for the jugular—preventing him a moment of oxygen—and the third to hit him on the left side of his chest. As he moved with the force of her punch, she set herself up for a sweeping kick aimed at the back of his knees. He crumpled down on the ground, gasping for air.

Turning to the other two, she went back into her stance. “Alright. Who’s next?” She asked patiently. 

This enraged the two Ala Mhigan teens—and before long—they too were like their first brother. They were gasping for breath, crawling away from her.

She merely looked to Wilred, dropping her hands from position. She could feel the perspiration roll down her face, but she didn’t bother wiping it away. She was determined to get to the bottom of this. “Can I ask you a question now?”

Wilred seemed surprised that she downed three of his brothers. “Y-you’re stronger than you look.”

Azlyn shook her head. “No—I used their own strength against them. There’s a difference between offensive and defensive fighting—but that’s beside the point.” She placed her hands on her hips. “First off—I’m not with the Empire. I am here however to figure out why you knuckleheads are consorting with this black masked man. What are you planning?” She waited for him to explain.

The three behind her started to run back to the town, while he snarled at her. “Threaten us, beat us bloody all you like—but nothing short of death can make us give up our fight! It changes nothing! We’re going to obtain the power to bring down the Empire, and with it we’ll reclaim our homeland!” He darted off before she could have asked him for further information on what he meant. She groaned, turning to the direction he ran and watched him, and his buddies make it beyond the other side of the mountain.

“Stupidity indeed.” Azlyn pulled a hairtie from her bag, deciding to pull her hair up into a ponytail. The days were getting hotter in Thanalan and having her hair down just made it seem hotter. She then reached up to her linkpearl and called the old bear. She hoped he wouldn’t be upset at her calling him.

“What.” His voice was grouchier than usual.

“Your kiddos attacked me off the beaten path of Broken Water. They said they obtained a power to take down the Empire.” Azlyn explained succinctly. She hoped with quick explanations and directives it would lead to a better conversation. “Wilred also said that they have something planned—not sure what it is though.”

“Attacked by Wilred and his cronies? That they would go to such lengths for the sake of this plan of theirs. Left to their own devices, the young fools are like to harm others, if not themselves. We must uncover this agenda and put an end to this madness.” Gundobald paused from speaking into his linkpearl. “Wilred mentioned obtaining the power to bring down the Empire. Of what power could he be speaking?”

It was then that the linkpearl cut out—whether Gundobald was the one who did it or if Azlyn’s had broken the connection, she decided it would be best to head into town and to figure out what happened.

She teleported inside the camp and ran westward to Gundobald’s camp. She could see he was caring for a young adolescent girl with heavy wounds. She caught the tail end of her explanation. “—Corpse brigade found me—they took me to their hideout—and they—they…” The young girl broke down into sobs. “The whole time they laughed at me. They said that I suffer because I cling to hope.”

Azlyn slowly approached, she could see the young girl had heavy tears streaming down her face. She looked straight at her as she spoke forwardly. “Is it wrong to dream of home? Is it wrong to call ourselves Ala Mhigans?!”

Gundobald did his best to comfort her. “Do not heed such poisonous notions, child. Our dreams are what sustain us. Be strong—I swear to you; those villains will answer for their crimes in due time. But tell me—does anyone else know of this?”

The young girl nodded her head to Azlyn’s presence.

Gundobald did not seem concerned by her arrival. “This is one we can trust.”

The Ala Mhigan adolescent looked away. “Wilred and his friends were coming around the mountain. They saw me. Wilred was so angry.”

Gundobald shook his head, a sigh escaped passed his bushy white mustache. He looked to Azlyn. “I must tend to Bertliana. In the meantime, I need you to find out what the young ones make of tis. I fear that they may do something rash.”

Azlyn nodded. “And if I find out it is something rash? Would you like me to intervene and stop them?”

The older man gave a grim expression, his eyes tightened in an unreadable look before he gave her a solid nod. “Do what you must.”

She left the one called Bertliana with Gundobald, walking through Little Ala Mhigo talking with the adolescents in the area. As unfortunate as gossip was, Azlyn found out that Wilred’s mouth worked faster than his three guys’ punches. Many of the youths were inflamed by what they had heard transpired between the Corpse Brigade and Bertliana. There was one riled lass who said something that alarmed her—and that was her off comment about not being afraid of some lizards.

Azlyn’s bad feeling was growing.

She’d found other things in Little Ala Mhigo that were equally as alarming—like hunting knives and the preparation of hunting parties. A lone map detailing Zanr’ak. Azlyn ran up the path into the upper halls of the eastern camp—where she found Wilred praying to a rock embedded with the symbol of Rhalgr on its face. His voice was cracking—mostly from anger and frustration.

“O mighty Rhalgr, Lord of Destruction, we implore you, lend us your strength and put an end to the suffering of your people.” Wilred stood, looking back to see her coming up to him. “If you’re here to interfere—you’re already too late. Our plan is already in motion.”

Azlyn gave him a concerned look. “Wilred, listen to me. If this is something that masked guy told you to do to save Little Ala Mhigo—I can tell you right now it’s wrong. He’s wrong. This isn’t the way.” She implored with the youth, trying to win him with reason.

The youth snapped to her, his face heated in anger. “Once we have the crystals, our enemies will pay for their crimes, and no one will dare oppress us ever again!”

Azlyn gaped. It was coming together to her what it was they planned. “You can’t attempt a summoning. It won’t go as you’ve planned!” He ignored her pushing past. She ran to his side, grabbing his arm with her hands. “Wilred!” The teen yanked his arm out from her grasp, storming off.

She had to think quickly. It was apparent that they were going to summon a primal—more than likely Rhalgr—but she didn’t see any crystals in Little Ala Mhigo. She thought back to the map she found with detailed information on Zanr’ak. “The Amalj’aa. They’re going to take the crystals from the Amalj’aa.” She shook her head at the foolery of it. They’d be overwhelmed and killed by those beastmen. Or sacrificed to Ifrit. She clenched both of her fists.

She wouldn’t let that happen—not again. She pulled a piece of paper from her bag, jotting down the information of what she found out the teens were planning. She also noted the location and the time she felt. She then folded it and ran over to Geissberht that set her up with the Thanalan Tea. She handed him the note. “Please, give this to Gundobald immediately. I have to leave to stop Wilred.”

He nodded, and she was already sprinting into the desert. She went eastward where it was indicated on the map. Zanr’ak. She’d been taken into the heart of those lands before—albeit unconscious and thoroughly dragged. This time she was by herself and probably outnumbered by a few score men and beastmen alike.

Her desperation to catch them before it was too late only fueled her legs to push themselves. She sprinted down the eastern path, running until her lungs were crying for oxygen. By the time she realized what it was they were doing Wilred had already given them the command to go. He remained behind as the lone decoy—in case she came to stop them. “Blast it all.” She cursed.

Why were teens such assholes to adults? Why couldn’t they just once listen to the person with just a bit of experience. But of course, she knew the answer to that—they wouldn’t accept no for an answer—and they won’t stop because of their past—their bloodied history dyed in crimson blood of their brothers and sisters—how an Empire laid to waste a country of proud men and women—and sundering them into nothing more than refugees barely scrapping by in a foreign land.

There was a skirmish up ahead, where she could see a few injured Ala Mhigan youths struggling to get away. The one protecting them was Wilred. The teen was wounded, his gear set in tatters and bloodied. He was being pushed back by a lone Amalj’aa Zealot.

Azlyn dashed forward, she raised her fists in an offensive measure and started to attack the beastmen. It drew its javelin away from Wilred long enough for him to get several good slashes on its side. She used her height to her advantage, ducking and jumping around the Amalj’aa’s strikes. She gave Wilred a nod, before she jumped into melee with the Amalj’aa. She hoped the kid picked up on her cue, as she punched relentlessly into it.

He leapt up behind the Amalj’aa and brought his sword straight into the exposed back of the creature. Azlyn could see the life of the Amalj’aa slip away from its beady eyes and then crashed down into the desert. She looked to the three remaining and then back to the path she’d just come from. There she could see Gundobald and another soldier from the Ala Mhigan Resistance running toward them.

It seemed her note made it to his hands as soon as she left town.

Gundobald looked to the surprised Wilred. “Did no others survive?” His tone was somber and full of remorse. Wilred stuttered, dropping his head in shame. It seemed like their entire group save for those three had been lost.

Azlyn closed her eyes at the thought of losing so many young teens. 

“This is all wrong…” Wilred’s voice stuttered. What had been an angry teen seemed at the brink of despair. “Getting the crystals was supposed to be the start—We were going to reclaim our homeland. We were—we—” His voice broke then, as he broke down at whatever horrors availed them in Zanr’ak.

The elder of Little Ala Mhigo shouted to him. “Pull yourself together lad!”

The Au Ra stepped forward, “They were planning to use the crystals to attempt summoning Rhalgr. Am I wrong?” She looked to Wilred, who snapped his head up. His eyes were wide as he snapped out from the previous trauma.

“Yes! We were going to offer the crystals to Rhalgr—to summon him just like the masked man taught us! We plotted to sneak into Zanr’ak and make off with the lizardmen’s cache, b-but they caught us—and—” The teen staggered, as his stomach decided to wanted to dry heave at that moment. A few moments passed, before he quietly murmured in a broken voice. “So many dead…gods forgive me.”

“Heathens! You shall pay for your crimes with your souls!” An echoing in the valley drew their attention. From beyond the bridge in Zanr’ak, they watched as several Amalj’aa zealots arrived, their weapons ready to strike any who stood in front of them.

Azlyn faced the valley deciding this fight would be much better with a weapon of steel than of flesh. She summoned her sword and shield, although she was tempted to bring out the axe. She decided against it because she couldn’t risk blacking out while fighting. She was no good to anyone fighting like that. 

The aether shifted around her fists, letting the greaves evaporate into the flow of aether. Instead the trusty weight of steel and metal materialized to her side. The shine of the sun reflected off the mirror glaze of the shield. Gundobald stepped forward, ahead of Wilred and beside Azlyn. While she did not want to start a fight—she wanted to be ready.

Three Amalj’aa crossed the valley and the bridge, stopping ten paces away from the two of them. They stood tall, their scales glistened under the heat of the sun.

Gundobald spoke civilly to them. “I regret our young ones’ transgressions, but a soul is too high a price for youthful folly.” However he drew his lance to his side. She could feel the intensity of his own anger at the loss of so many of the youths. “For all their failings, they are the hope of the Ala Mhigan people This hope I will guard with my life.”

Azlyn swung her sword valiantly at her side, imitating Arenvald’s move. “Youths are bound to make mistakes—it’s up to the adults to help them see through those mistakes and learn not to make them again. I won’t stand by and let you take any more lives. Enough is enough.”

The Amalj’aa roared, charging to the two of them. Gundobald wasted no time, skewering his lance into the thick scales of the lizardman that rushed him first. Azlyn used the reflection of the sun to her advantage, waiting for the opportunity to arise. When the Amal’jaa came close to her, she directed a strong beam of sunlight up to the eyes of the enemy, blinding it momentarily. She then rushed in and swung her sword thick into the belly. It’s roar echoed in the valley, but all she could do was focus on this Amalj’aa until it dropped dead.

Gundobald had already gotten to his second Amalj’aa enemy, he expertly wielded his lance with ease. Behind her, she could hear Wilred stammering. “Forgive us—We—we only wanted…”

Azlyn yelled over the battle to him. “Wilred! Stay back if you’re not going to defend yourself!”

The elder Lance resident also yelled. “The excuses will keep!”

She ran to the side of the cliff, needing a bit of height leverage as she ran up the mountain with quick steps. She did an aerial backflip and used gravity to her advantage. With her shield in place, the Au Ra yelled to her foe. “Up here ugly!” She could see it tried to look up at her, and that was when she bashed her shield into the Amalj’aa’s scaled snout—blood decorating it as she rebounded off him. She had attempted to stab the lizardman with her sword as well, but he grabbed her by the arm, midair, and tossed her away like a ragdoll.

Azlyn impacted the ground hard, rolling several times before she came to a complete stop. She coughed as she gingerly found the ability to breathe. “That’s going to hurt in the morning.” She stammered. There was no time for error, as the Amalj’aa was already on her. He tried to skewer her with his javelin, repeatedly jabbing it into the ground where she was. She rolled, blithely up and away when he lifted the javelin back up from the ground.

“Slayer of Ifrit! I shall bear your head on my pike for many moons to come! I shall offer it to the Lord of Flames and watch as he gnaws upon your bones!”

Azlyn spat to the side, lifting her sword. “No thank you. I met him once—I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Her enemy roared in anger, as his attacks were more violent and at random. She deflected the fatal blows with her shield, pushing the javelin out of her zone.

Wilred and his two remaining friends jumped into the foray. Their weapons drawn as they yelled in unison. Whether their battle spirit was evoked by watching the fighting, she had to admit it was a welcome sight. Albeit, one where she needed to keep an eye on them so no more of them died that day.

She decided to incite him further. “If the Lord of Flames was almighty and great—why did he fall to my axe? He was weak—he was weak because his followers were just as weak.” She already intercepted the spear, using her shield to parry to blow to the side and then threw her sword up into the air. The Amalj’aa roared with anger, thinking that she tried to use her sword to attack him from above, only for her to materialize a bow and arrow in hand. The shield disappeared as she quickly notched an arrow and lifted it to aim straight at his face. “I’m down here!” She fired, the sickening thud of the arrow slamming back into his eyesocket. Her sword was still sailing in the air, as she fired two more arrows in rapid succession. It was around the third arrow that she shot, where it shot through his throat, and he dropped to the ground. Her sword then landed squarely in the dead creature’s back—the hilt of the handle toward her.

She reached out to draw it out from the Amalj’aa. “I didn’t need to be an Arcanist to know the outcome of this fight.” She turned her attention to the rest of the fight, where more and more Amalj’aa and their drakes were spewing forth from the valley. 

Gundobald shouted to the Amalj’aa with great ferocity. “I will not let you harm them!”

He started to slay Amalj’aa after Amalj’aa—his resolute hand brought quick ends to four beastmen in a row, before Azlyn could rejoin the fray. She had struggled with one Amalj’aa while he had handled over five on his own. She had much to learn in the ways of fighting.

“Azlyn, stay close to Wilred!” Gundobald commanded, and she could tell this was a leading officer of the Ala Mhigan Resistance. She could see how he could rally people to his command with ease. She ran over to the lad, putting her back to his as she readied her sword.

The teen looked over his shoulder to her. “You didn’t tell me you were the one who slayed Ifrit!”

She eyed the Amalj’aa notching an arrow at them. “You never asked!” She raised her sword up to cut down the rocketing arrow fired straight at them. “Focus.”

The Leader of the Amalj’aa lizardmen stepped forward, he beckoned to all his followers. “Come, ye blessed of our Lord’s breath!” Running in from the valley now were waves of tempered men and women, all charging to them with weapons of varying sizes. All that separated them from her group was the bridge and mountains above.

“Wilred! Cover me.” She let her sword and shield go, as she manifested her arcanima book. She drew upon her emerald pattern, bringing forth her emerald carbuncle to deal with the new enemies. “I need you to keep the Amalj’aa off my flank. I’m going to take care of the small fries. Can I trust you?”

The lad nodded fervently. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” She channeled all her energy to blast concentrated energy into several key points in the mountain, until chunks from the mountain tumbled below. It triggered a large scale landslide that crushed all the tempered below. It only took a matter of seconds, and the tempered didn’t know what had occurred, as their attention had been focused upon the green summon spirit. She waited for the resounding crack, followed by the earth rendering fall of boulders, rock, and dust as the side of the mountain swallowed them whole.

Just before the largest piece of the mountain fell upon them, she recalled her carbuncle—sparing it from being crushed in the rubble. The massive landslide caused all the fighting to cease, as all eyes looked to her holding her book resolutely. She snapped her book closed to look over to the strange quiet behind her.

“Kill her!” The head Zealot of the Amalj’aa pointed a scaled, pointed talon over to her. His face contorted in fury. “Kill the Slayer of Ifrit!”

Azlyn heavily sighed, letting the book disappear from her hands and brought forth her arrows. She began rapidly firing to the attacking Amalj’aa. Gundobald started to attack the leader of the Zealots, having a bit more difficulty with him.

“Anything else I need to know about you?” Wilred called to her, swinging his sword to fend of the Amalj’aa now rushing them.

“There’s a book that’s written about me?” Azlyn admitted, shooting arrow after arrow at their enemies.

“A what?”

Azlyn readied an arrow, deciding it best not to say anymore. “Nothing, nevermind.”

The battle continued, they fought through each adversary taking down each foe in the area. Azlyn must have shifted weapons from melee, to magical ranged, to physically ranged damage over a dozen times before they found a chance to breathe.  They took down the Amalj’aa followers, and with only their leader remaining, Gundobald commanded them to attack in unison.

Unable to avoid the attacks of all of them upon him, the Amalj’aa Zealot crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood seeping into the desert floor beneath him.

A heavy dose of exhaustion swept through her muscles, body, and mental physique. The heat from the sun started to scorch upon them as the morning shifted into the early afternoon. The teens from Ala Mhigan circled up around Azlyn, starting to ask her questions about where she learned to fight.

Gundobald and Wilred approached her last, giving her a moment to breathe.

“Your skill at arms is impressive. Our wayward youths could learn much from a lady like you.” Many of the youngsters that remained looked up to her with wide, expectant eyes. This moment was short lived, thanks to Gundobald as he drew them back to his side. “While the battle is won, it would be unwise to linger here. Let us return to Little Ala Mhigo.”

Azlyn nodded, turning away from the bridge and felt her group of followers increase. One remained behind, Wilred. He clenched his fists before shouting to them.

“Wait! We’ve come all this way—we have to get the crystals! They’re right there, ripe for the picking!”

The Au ra stopped dead in her tracks, she narrowed her eyes, and slowly turned on her heel to face him. The teens that followed her gaped, their worried expressions said it all. They had the look as if they were rethinking their previous actions. 

Before she could yell at the teen for his foolish thoughts, Gundobald reprimanded him in her stead. “Have you learned nothing, Wilred? Did you not see those tempered wretches? Such is the fate of those who are touched by a god. Is that what you desire for yourself and your friends?”

Wilred looked alarmed, taken aback by their demeanor. “W-what!? N-No one said anything about—The masked man told us we could defeat the Empire if we summoned Rhalgr! He swore—”

Azlyn sighed loudly. “Why are you so inclined to believe in this masked man, this stranger over the voices of your own people?” She placed both of her hands on her hips, hoping that he’d listen to something they said. “Please hear me when I say this but that man did not have good intentions.”

The lad looked to Azlyn, his brown eyes that once held a contempt for her earlier in the morning now awash with a conflicting set of emotions—from guilt, trauma, and betrayal.

“B-but he swore.” He mumbled.

Gundobald gave him a stern scolding. “Enough. I will hear the rest of this sorry tale back in Little Ala Mhigo. I daresay Dirk will wish to hear it as well.” Wilred slowly trudged ahead, along with the other teens that managed to survive this tragic encounter. She waited behind, staring back at the bloody scene of carnage. She was surprised given their odds, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder. Could she have prevented this whole thing…?

Gundobald called to her. “Are you coming Azlyn?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”