The watch is over, and the night has passed. Morning came, but sunlight dim. Mantled by clouds, and rain might come.
At dawn, were cold still lingered. As mist from below crept its way through the valleys. Shadowing the trail into nothing but pure mist.
Cold and comfortable, Natalak, be that as it may, cocoons himself. Unbothered by the sound of clanking pots and the voices of the four. It was only after Ashalain's action, forcing the man out of his sleeping bag did he awoken.
Weary and too sluggish to move, Ashalain's reprimand didn't seem to enter his ears. He didn't speak; he only nodded at every word the paladin uttered. Even as breakfast arrived, he was too lazy to enter their conversation.
Packing things, the group awaits the caravan of merchants to arrive. Natalak, still unable to combat his drowsiness, sleeps near the wagon. Three hours of waiting, and at that time, the mist slowly cleared. And when the mist finally departed their location, the sound of hooves and iron wheels could be heard.
At the final corner of the road, the lead caravan emerged. There at the wagon's side was a mounted knight, keenly watching the surroundings.
"Wait, is that—" The knight's eyes widened as he saw Ashalain giving a signal.
Uncertain if she was truly Ashalain de Shilvia. The knight raises his arms, halting the caravan. Calling his other comrade to take his place. The knight goes for a greeting.
Ten meters from their distance, the knight dismounts from his horse. Shield ready, swords held tightly, concealed by his shield, and when Ashalain reveals her two authentic crests—
The knight placed his arms to his chest before giving a nod. And a faint sigh of relief.
"Greetings, Lady Ashalain. I'm quite surprised to see you here… what brings you here?"
"It's quite a long story, Sir Michael. And I'm in need of your aid."
The knight's eyes shifted briefly toward the wagon behind her. Toward the mother and the two merchants. Toward Natalak, still half-asleep against the wheel.
"You certainly look like you've had a rough road, my lady."
"Not quite." Ashalain sighed. "Somehow, we were ambushed by ten bandits at the forest entrance."
Michael's expression tightened before giving a gruttal grunt. He glanced back toward the line caravan.
"I fear every passing day… I've sensed that the roads grow worse by the week. Now merchants speak of demons, citizens and nobles mutter of war, and the guild keeps stretching itself thinner."
"I too noticed," Ashalain replied quietly.
"I hope the Gods might hear our prayers."
A pause followed before Michael looked again towards the wagon.
Sir Michael, if possible, could you take the wagon with you? I plan to follow the remaining bandits.
Michael looks back at his caravan. "I suppose adding one wagon won't give us enough trouble. But are there any companions who will join your mission? These days are more dangerous to go on alone. I could offer you a few of my companions, but we are too few for this day."
"I think I can handle a few bandits."
"Hmm…" The knight gave a concerned look as he glanced towards the man in padded armour. "And the man sleeping on the wheel? I've never seen him around the guild. Is he perhaps an acquaintance of yours?"
The paladin nods. "He's with me."
"Are you sure you want to take him with you? He doesn't seem much of an adventurer."
"I believe he can. He has dealt with more than just bandits during our journey."
"Ah, I see… then if you could." Michael then extended for a shake.
Ashalain then followed, clasping his hand. "Thank you, Sir. Michael."
The knight nods. "I'll be sure to notify the guild of your mission."
As Natalak's slumber ripened, his rest was rattled. And when he opens his eyes—Ashalain was grasping his shoulder.
"W-what?"
"Fix yourself up, the caravan is here."
He gave a three-nod and slowly shook off his drowsiness.
"And Natalak, can you lend me the Shars that you have?"
"Seriously."
The paladin nods.
"H-how much do you need?"
"If possibly all of it."
When said, Natalak suddenly gave a staggered look.
"Please, I will see to it that I will repay you back more."
"Fine." Natalak then carefully hands his pouch to Ashalain, giving him a look of emotion.
He thought that it would be given to the adventurers guarding the caravan. But he was wrong when he saw that his pouch of Shars was given to the pregnant woman. He could only watch as the mother gave a tight embrace to the paladin.
Even as the caravan begins to fade from the corners, he is still gazing in their direction.
"Now that's enough sulking, we should get going," Ashalain spoke, grabbing his arms as she dragged him to where the bandit's camp is.
As Michael reinstalled in his position, one of his party members came for a conversation.
"I didn't know you were acquainted with Lady Ashalain." A female ranger spoke.
Michael smile. "Well, to be honest with you, during Lady Ashalain's time as a knight… my sister and I were once her squire."
The ranger's eyes widen. "How come you never told me this?"
"It's quite a long story."
Leaving the road, the two trek deeper into the forest till they emerge into a woodland. And, true enough, there was a brook, as the woman stated.
Footprints can be seen, with some drops of blood staining the rocks and the grass. They were on the right track.
Following the paladin from behind, Natalak couldn't help but notice a sense of unease from Ashalain. It is not the same confidence he had witnessed from their previous encounter. She walks more slowly, her hand not loosening but grasping tightly into a fist.
A few more hours, something unexpected came from Ashalain.
"Natalak… there's something I'd like to ask."
"Yeah, what is it?"
"It may be an odd question, but… even though our meeting is short. You don't seem to be afraid of every situation we've come across."
Natalak looks through the brookside, "I'm more than afraid… It's just that some of us are good at hiding it."
"I see… not much of the difference." She whispers and hopes that he didn't hear her.
As the two finally reached the encampment, hidden beneath the bushes and the engulfing thick mist concealed their presence. The two intensely discern the camp's layout and the number of people. And though the bandits may be few in numbers, they are more troubled towards the hostages.
"Where is that bastard and his friends? It's been one night, and they didn't return." Scoff one of the bandits.
"Bah, leave him be, he always does this around. If they didn't return by sundown, we'll move on without them."
"Ha, those cultist bastards should pay us handsomely. We have more than enough people to meet their demands. It's been hard capturing people alive these days."
Far from where Ashalain and Natalak are located, they cannot fully discern what they're talking about. Only muttering and swearing is all they hear.
"Any plan?" Natalak whispered.
The paladin only gave a silent answer; she only stared through the bandit's camp… searching for the captives.
Sensing the rigid gawking of Natalak, Ashalain felt she needed to say something.
She clenched her fist tighter. "N-Natalak." The paladin stammers faintly. "Do you have any other plans in mind?"
Eccentric by her sudden change, Natalak paused, pondering both Ashalain's emotion and the objective.
"Well, fighting them scattered is a hazardous thing to do. And they have hostages as their leverage."
Ashalain nods slowly, "If only those bandits would gather into one place, I could take them out."
"I did hear they will resume their travels before sunset. Should we follow them? Or do you have some spells that might be useful in snaring those men?"
"I think we should wait for a safer opening."
As the two lie in wait, the mist soon thickens, obscuring their vision. And lingering in their position would do nothing.
"Blondie," Natalak whispered. "Should we move closer to their camp?"
He waits for what the paladin responds, but all he received was silence. Intrigued by her stillness, Natalak glanced over her and saw she was frozen, unblinking as she gazed directly at the bandit's camp. Her hand gripped the sword's handle, trying to extinguish her shaking hand… and most of all, she was sweating.
For someone like Natalak, he was baffled how such a paladin of great power, someone who fretted not with demons nor monsters, now shuddered at mere bandits. It was only after a slight shake that Ashalain regained her senses.
"I'll scout ahead", Natalak said, after noticing her tense emotion had subsided.
Before Ashalain could react, Natalak then begins crawling, inching his way for a closer vision. Through the bushes, through the trees, he slithers like a sniper. And as he crawls closer, tension arises, his heart begins to race, and soon he begins sweating more than Ashalain.
He glances back and sees the paladin still processing her emotions.
Thirty meters away from the enemies, and when he tries to position himself for a better view. Ashalain followed. And as the mist clears, the two can finally get a clear sight of the camp's layout.
Through the centre lie three prison wagons, holding ten or more people. Inside, there were children and younger individuals. There were no elderly folks, and fear their life might already be over. The two could hear their muttering prayers as children wept in hopelessness. Just as they were beginning to ponder their next step—
"Gahh, I had enough of this!" Rose, one of the bandits. "That dam fool and his men can rot to their amusement! Men, we're moving in." He continues to point his dual scimitars at his men. "Get the wagons ready! We'll use teleportation, once we're near the border of Keshoval."
The order is given, and quickly the marauders are immobilised. Dousing of the bonfire and loading the commodities. Oblivious to their surroundings, they gave the two an opening.
As the man with dual scimitars watches his men, he hears footsteps dashing towards him.
"Hah! You finally retur—" Before the man could continue, his head was decapitated the moment his head turned to see who was coming.
The man's body dropped to the ground, his neck spilling blood as his last remaining vision saw a paladin hastening towards his men.
With no arms to defend themselves and limited attempts to escape through the forest, they scatter in all directions, only to be caught by Natalak. Empowered by Azarus's flame, he can effortlessly pursue them.
The swords, crackling in embers, easily penetrated their backs. Despite their armour, the tips and his strength pierced through their chainmail and padded armour. Three fell, and Natalak hopes those were the ones who escaped.
Not a second to ponder, he hurriedly returns only to see that Ashalain had already decimated all the remaining bandits that chose to give resistance. Some of them are cut in half, spilling their innards, and others are decapitated, that some of their jaws are still intact. And the way Ashalain's actions were not likely the ones he saw when fighting the monster, nor the previous bandits. Her breathing was heavy, her combat was drunk-like and undisciplined, and, from the looks of it, she was desperate to end the battle.
In the end, only one bandit remained, a mage kneeling ten meters away from the paladin. His left arm was cleanly amputated, and he was trying his best to stop the bleeding by squeezing his veins and muscles.
As the paladin tried to ease her panting, the man stood. "I should have killed that bastard, knowing he would bring us in damnation." The bandit scoffs and spits at his dead men.
"Let's see if you've got the balls to take this woman!" The man announced, pouring his utmost energy into one single attack.
On the man's palm, a sphere of embers was conjured. Expanding it grew, and grew until it was twice the size of a football. It cracks in cinders of lava, it didn't burst a flame but oozes of radiates strings of crimson, orbiting the sphere. Though in return the man's body suffers great injury as his eyes, nose and mouth leaks of blood. His face and his skin were scorched, similar to Sheila's Scorched Magic. And heaves did the man send forth his spell, with a face that expressed victory.
The paladin stood firm against the incoming spell. Her shield shimmered like the morning sunlight. As she stepped aside, and with a quick parry, she reflected the mage's spell three times faster.
From triumph, now shifts to the countenance of fear; the mage's eyes widen as the sphere shoots through him like a cannonball being fired.
"Stupid fool!" The man mutters in hopelessness before the orb exploded.
The camp was rocked by a loud explosion, with ears ringing from the blast. The crater and barrels shattered, sending wooden shrapnel from all directions. Debris falls, and the mist that once clouds the place dissipates, only for it to slowly return.
Toward the man who created the spell, he was disintegrated, leaving no clothes or flesh to be seen. But triumph comes at a cost.
The three prison wagons rolled over, staggering the people inside. And the paladin who came to their rescue is now frozen by her action.
The prisoners that she aimed to liberate, now moaning and crying, made her once-disciplined virtue cast into oblivion.
Trembling both eyes and hand, Ashalain dropped her sword and fell to her knees.
With all hope lost, Natalak rushed to their aid. Bashing the lock through sheer strength and adrenaline, he managed to open the door. And as he turned to the third wagon, the closest to the explosion, there he saw a boy whose stomach was pierced by a wooden shrapnel.
No thoughts to ponder, no hesitation, Natalak swiftly pulls the boy out of the wagon. And there he rushes towards the frozen paladin.
"ASHALAIN!" Natalak screams, placing the dying boy on her lap. "ASHALAIN!"
Natalak cries, but all she hears is ringing as the surrounding sounds dim slowly. She looks down at the boy stained in blood, lamenting his injuries. Somehow her vision changed, blurred. And the image of the boy changed into a girl whose body was torn into pieces. The child's eyes were lifeless, but still it cried both blood and tears. Not one but dozens more appear, then a hundred—scattered and lifeless on the ground.
"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER. THE BOY IS DYING!" Natalak then shakes the paladin as hard as he could.
Snapped from her dream. She looked down and saw that Natalak had already placed her hand on the boy's severe injuries. Despite the fact that her hands are shaking, she musters enough strength to pull the wooden shard before covering the wounds through her healing flames.
Once Natalak saw the boy, regain his colour. He rushes back to find more wounded people and carries them to Ashalain's green flames. It took time, but their effort saved all the captives. Frankly, there were no deaths, no corpses to burn, only the bodies of the bandits that needed a proper burial.
"N-Natalak," Ashalain calls. "If it's alright with you… could you handle things for now? I-I need to excuse myself for a moment."
"Sure-sure."
Watching Natalak comfort the hostages, the paladin then drifts to a nearby spring. Kneeling as she submerges a quarter of herself in the cold, calm water. She then let out a silent cry—
"Thank goodness... I'm glad no one finally died," Ashalain mutters, washing her face as if trying to douse away her tears.