The Flood had begun in the Sage lands. Dire beasts were appearing in the midst of every sufficiently large group of animals within the forests and hills. The roads, well worn and patrolled by the allied factions, now were the stomping grounds for monsters, or lay silent and unused.
The few faction members that could survive in the wilderness were summoned back to the cities for defense as soon as they were able. The gates opened only twice each day, at dawn and dusk, to change who was out in the field. They were sent out to inspect the walls, gates, and break up any groups of dire beasts that had started accumulating outside.
Both groups were back in the city with the exception of Fray herself. Her and the adventurers she was assigned to had apparently hit a snag with their mission and hadn’t been able to make it back yet, but, according to the Ogre’s party member, they were still alive and healthy, just stuck a few days out.
In the North, the zombie siege of Mystle had begun. Given the kind of zombies summoned, the students were kept away, and only the more trained magic users or those less reliant on solely magic were fielded to fight them. The Flood had an affect here too, with the ambient magic fueling the zombies longer than they would last otherwise. The necromancer had not made an appearance yet, but the Hierophant was confident that they would, either here or in the city.
Across the world, the repercussions of the Flood were being felt. Iron Mountain aimed its spears skyward, fighting off whatever dragon went mad and decided now was a good time to attack the stronghold. The Six Hills region saw a surge in its own monsters, namely Fey and other things Marc had never heard of. Trinity City was being hit hard, but then again it was always hit hard by the Flood. The three constituent cities were bordering a massive underground tunnel system, the open ocean, and an “evil dark forest”, as Nico called it. This was to differentiate it from the normal dark forests of the Sage Lands, or the evil bright forests of the Fey’s home.
Helen, of course, then chimed in that she was from said evil dark forest.
Barry, Nico, and Helen were off duty right now, but were waiting to be deployed later on. Every combatant of Echelon 2 or higher had to go out twelve hours every-other day, for as long as the Flood lasted. That would normally leave Marc, Jacky, and Lloyd with nothing to do but wait.
Instead, they needed to guard the city on the inside. People tended to get stir crazy, and often times travelers who found solace within the walls were not entirely happy with their situations. The small group of Tefereti were being housed by Rodaan, but not many nations had a system like that in place. Trinity City, a major trade hub, had a single member of their Porter’s Guild in Grand Vale, others had no one. This was exacerbated by there being a number of national rivalries.
Add it all together, and Marc, Jacky, and Lloyd were effectively the bouncers for the entire city. The other Echelon 1 classed from Grand Vale would join them, but the trio had a very cherished position. They were in Berk’s crew, guarding the Canopy. After his first mission with Berk, and the recommendation of Rodaan, Marc was allowed in, though would be under surveillance. Jacky was herself a resident of the ward, and vouched for Lloyd.
The three managed to snag effectively a luxury position, guarding the nobility and the elite from the city, as well as being the most protected. They may not be gaining levels like some of the adventurers stopping drunken brawls day by day, but they’d be the safest in the city.
The Elf was nervous. Their plan was finished, their preparations done. She had stolen more than enough to leave behind for “tithe” in advance, so no one would have a reason to go looking for her. She’d have turned it in to the inquisitor directly if the invader could be found.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The Flood was always a stressful time for the Root. It was always clear they were on a leash, especially with the restriction on who couldn’t be robbed, but it came with upsides to match. Not so in the Flood. What should be a holiday for them was instead the time of greatest restrictions. They were not combatants at the best of times, most only ever gaining levels through, well, thievery. It said something when the highest level one was also the only one to go out and fight.
So, when dues, or tithes, came up during the Flood, there was a mad scramble. The only things they were even allowed to steal at this point were generally from traveling merchants stuck beneath the canopy, or else utterly worthless.
The Root was a leash, and the Elf wanted off.
So, as she turned out onto the streets to observe the huddled, scared masses, the marching adventurers, she took a look at the city that was her home. Where she got her first Historia, where she became the person she was today. She walked through the crowd, her stealth boon activating. If anyone saw her, they wouldn’t care. They were adventurers, protected by the Root’s leash. The guards were always protected, but at least that went both ways. Bribes were just a part of business with them, and it kept the novice thieves from spending too long in chains.
More than that, they weren’t going to interfere in her work. Walking through a group of adventurers was a clear indication that she wasn’t doing anything in front of them.
Sticking to the shadows, she made her way to the Traveler ward, and right back to that small graveyard.
The test started down there. This was the last time she could back out. Success would mean becoming a Paragon. Failure would mean exile during the Flood.
Checking around her, she opened the tunnels and slipped inside, closing the entrance once again. She saw the Sharoaa’s eyes reflecting light, a hand beckoning.
There was only one path forward.
Fray looked down from the perch they were stuck atop. It was her and the few other Echelon 3 adventurers on a mission gone more than a little awry.
First, a massive swarm of undead marching towards the city, then the Dire beasts started coming, and very quickly the four of them were using magic to try and fly over the undead-dire beast war going on below.
Fray, meanwhile, was on “kill them if they get too close” duty, alongside Kal. The Sorcerer and Witch Knight, Vairough and Ettore respectively, were keeping them aloft.
“Not whatcha expected, Fray?” came Kal’s voice. He was good in a scrap, but every word from his mouth carried an arrogance that Fray disliked.
“Is it what you expected, Kal?” She shot back. The amount of blood spilt below meant she had more than enough materiel for her spells, it was more a matter of focus and actually casting the spells correctly now.
“Me? I always expect something to go wrong.” He flicked his wrists, resummoning the knives he’d just thrown to his magical vambraces.
Vairough swore, “Because you always do it wrong, Kal!” Her focus only wavered for a moment, but the platform of roots and iron they were standing on tilted unexpectedly.
If the human was hurt by the Sorcerer’s words, he didn’t show it, “It’s worked out for me so far.”
Ettore himself was not engaging in the discussion, as was typical. He did say something that, though in Elvish, Fray was fairly certain translated to “I should have become a scholar” given the number of times Nico had said nearly the same thing.
“Can we move any faster?” Fray asked.
“Do YOU want to sustain the spell?” came Vairough’s reply, knowing she wouldn’t be able to.
Fray saw a Dire cat - Lynx, she though - readying to pounce. She drew back her arm, chanted her own spell, and the attacker’s lunge was stopped right after it started. Probably not enough to kill it, but certainly enough to keep it from trying again.
As minutes became hours, and the quartet crossed the sky, Fray resolved to treat her party, full of people she liked, to something appropriately celebratory when the Flood was finally done.
Looking into the distance, towards Grand Vale, she saw a bird of some kind flying alone.
