Bright Battle Story: Tactics Heart - Episode 01: "Everyone said there'd be heroes..."

It was, mechanically speaking, impossible for a dwarf rogue to kill an ogre. Ask any calculator and after they finished laughing they'd tell you it couldn't be done. They'd say that the numbers simply didn't add up, that an unpromoted rogue was a low-tier class at best, and that a dwarf rogue made no sense whatsoever. They would inform you, clearly and precisely, that the result of a dwarf rogue going up against an ogre would be nothing more than a red smear upon the ground. Against an ogre, the calculator might restate, the desire for accuracy spurring their emphasis, a dwarf rogue had absolutely no chance whatsoever.

Here's how it would go, the calculator would tell you. Assume the rogue is able to break line of sight. Assume they're able to stealth and then backstab. The dwarf rogue's low movement coupled with the ogre's reach bonus means that after that first free hit there's no way the rogue can get to cover again before they're splatted, and just one hit from the ogre is going to do exactly that. Even if somehow, miraculously, the dwarf rogue manages to find cover and break line of sight and enter stealth and backstab again, they'd have to do this at least sixty-seven times in order to even put the ogre into critical condition.

So no. Couldn't happen. Red smear. Nothing but.

Nevertheless, here an ogre lay, quite clearly dead, and there a dwarf rogue stood, quite clearly not a red smear. Unharmed, in fact. Her clothes were a little on the ragged side and she was rather grubby (three weeks in a prison train will do that to a person), but as for actual injuries? There wasn't a scratch on her.

Of course she wasn't alone, but her companion seemed more of a handicap than any kind of advantage. He was even shorter than the dwarf and far less broad, knobbly and weedy and awkward, limbs too long, feet too big, skin considerably greener than was generally deemed socially acceptable, large amber eyes fearful and suspicious, pointy little teeth the clear sign of a monster. No, putting a goblin with the dwarf shouldn't have influenced things one little bit—the only change to the outcome, any reputable calculator could tell you, would be two red smears.

And yet there the ogre lay, still rather dead, and there the dwarf rogue stood, still not a red smear, the odd little goblin thing now gently holding her sleeve.

It took some time for the arena to be opened and for the two of them to be discovered. This manner of trial was not uncommon—when faced with a choice between hard labour in the adamantine mines or trial by ogre many chose the ogre, which said something about the unpleasantness of the mines—but what WAS uncommon, what was almost unheard of, was anyone actually winning. In fact, out of the last two thousand and seventy three trials, two thousand and seventy two of them had ended in the aforementioned 'red smear' scenario.

The two thousand and seventy third trial, the one that had ended with a dead ogre and a very much alive dwarf rogue, was Nala Greyward's. Her goblin companion's name was Tzugakk. Nala was a casteless thief from the city of Sontra, arrested for the crime of Resisting Arrest. Tzugakk was little more than a goblin, previously living in a nameless bit of forest until he'd been arrested for the crime of Being A Goblin. Neither of them appeared exceptional in any way shape or form, and thus those in charge of their judgement were faced with a problem; what to do with this ogre-slaying dwarf? What to do with the ugly little goblin that clung to her like a bad smell? The traditional option was to issue an invitation to Bright Battle, but that was back when the academy actually needed new entrants. On the other hand it would be an elegant solution to a thorny problem. Bright Battle Academy, after all, was famously effective at advancing the strong and destroying the weak...

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The entrance hall was wide and shallow and packed. One wall was made up of portal gates, as varied in design as they were consistent in function: the gate to The Forest was formed of living trees, coaxed into forming a vague circle and bound with softly glowing vines; the gate to Auldvyne was heavy and gothic, deeply suspicious purple-black energy crawling upon its cracked obsidian surface; the gate to Nimbus was formed of clouds made solid, glowing with rainbow energy; the Blue Field gate was exceptionally ordinary, a simple white marble oval, functionally dull. There were other gates as well, smaller gates, shabbier gates, but nobody paid much attention to those. Not even when a dwarf rogue stumbled through one of them, torn cloak fluttering around her, iron knife clutched tight.

Her name was Nala Greyward, and she was the second to arrive through that particular gate that day; the second to arrive through THAT particular gate in more than four years.

Nala raised her head, took in the dozens of heavily-armed people around her, then turned to scramble back towards the portal gate. It was an odd-looking thing, mostly square, made of old wooden planks nailed haphazardly together with big chunky nails, but the portal glow was as bright as any. Still, though the glow gave beneath her hand it soon pushed back, the message of its magic-slippery surface clear: ONE WAY ONLY.

Nala stood back and winced; there was a prickling against the back of her left hand. As she scratched at it an intricate tattoo appeared, a spined, curling circle of glowing white. Nala stared at this then looked around again, at the people in the room, many of them carrying big swords or big axes or weapons that could otherwise be described as 'big'. All of them were coming from the portal gates and heading towards the other side of the room, where dozens of booths stood beside arched passages, each of the booths manned by an official-looking person with a blue-and-gold cap and a blue-and-gold uniform and a blue-and-gold stone tablet. It was beside one of these booths that Nala caught sight of familiar pointed green ears and dark brown furs, and she hurried forward to catch up to her goblin companion—

"Whoa, what the hell? Default equipment, are you kidding me?"

Nala spun to face the girl who'd spoken—she was human, some kind of fighter wearing half-plate armour, a shining sword in her hand.

"Easy merits straight out the gate!"

Nala ducked back then dashed between two elves, bumped up against a half-orc's back then made for the nearest portal gate, a marble oval. Unsurprisingly this one reacted the same as the portal she'd arrived through; yielded a little beneath her hands then pushed back hard. Nala spun to see the fighter closing on her, sword raised to strike—

"Huh?" the fighter said, tugging at her sword, trying to complete the action, but it was as if a giant invisible hand held the weapon in place. "What the hell?"

A nearby halfling laughed, his voice high and merry as he mocked the fighter:

"You bonehead, you can't attack here! What, you never heard of a safe zone? Can't fight until you're in the REAL academy! Hahahaha, how did you not know that? Seriously, get a clue or something!"

The fighter grumbled and huffed as she lowered her sword, before pointing it at Nala.

"Other side, dirteater," she growled, before smirking. "Catch you later."

With that she rested her sword over her shoulder and stomped away, heading towards one of the booths.

"I wouldn't trust you to catch a cold!" the halfling yelled after the fighter, before grinning at Nala. "Seriously though, she had a point. Default equipment? Sorry, but if I see you like that out of a safe zone I'm totally taking you down. Merits are merits, right? Can't give you a pass just because you're a fellow shorty!"

The halfling threw Nala a cheeky salute then bounded off towards a free booth, bags bouncing at his sides. Nala followed, splitting off towards another booth—there was no sign of Tzugakk now but the booths were clearly the only way out of this place. The gangly, sandy-haired human inside rolled his eyes as Nala approached.

"Oh my gods, what are you supposed to be? No, don't tell me, 'rogue', is it. Well marvellous." The human was looking down at something Nala couldn't see; whatever it was it seemed to offend him. "Obstinate Neutral Dwarf Rogue? Yes, what an absolute boon to the academy you'll be. Do you have a ticket?"

Nala blinked at the human. He leant forward, speaking slowly and loudly:

"DO. YOU. HAVE. A. TICKET?"

"...no?"

"No, of course you don't—through the portal then, mind you don't trip and fall and die and do us all a favour. Next! Come on now, chop chop chop!"

Past the booth and at the end of the arched passage was a wall of light, its glow enveloping Nala. Soft wind blew against her face and she blinked against sudden brightness, the sky above deep blue, what few clouds that dared sully its brilliance small and pure white. To her right there was a grey stone wall, old but solid, a few brave tufts of moss growing from small cracks. It was far too high and smooth to even think about climbing. Beneath her feet was a paved road, made of the same smooth grey stone as the walls—there was another far to the left, past the crowds of people streaming from the massive gates, huge high metal doors open to the white glow of a portal. One way street, no path but forward—except there was something, a gap in the wall ahead of Nala leading to downward stairs, and it was here that she ran, down a few steps to push herself against the coolness of the stone wall, draw the hood of her cloak over her head, and fade into the shadows.

Here she crouched, still and silent, hidden from all those who passed—and those who stopped to talk:

"Phew, wow, I did NOT expect so many people! This is still a safe zone, right? Otherwise everyone'd be attacking everyone—"

"That's why we've got to recruit some more guys, no way I'm gonna risk soloing—did you see that guy with the axes? You just know he's gonna camp the main square, pick off all the weaklings. Going out alone'd be suicide."

"So we've got to get a healer, right? And you said about maybe some kind of magic user for balance—we'd better hurry, looks like people are already partying up..."

The voices faded as the pair moved off, though they were soon replaced by others:

"WOOOOOO YEAH! Bright Battle, man, Bright Battle! Can you believe we're finally here? Man, I can't even believe it, are you seeing this place? Whoa, check out that chick, is that a half-orc? Dudes, there is a half-orc chick standing like JUST THERE, damn this place is wild! Okay though, okay okay, everyone's here, right? Okay, let's do this thing, back of the hand, man this is cool..."

There was a pause, and a faint jangly kind of tune, then:

"WOOOOO! Party time! Okay, I'll do the rest of you guys—"

"That's what HE said!"

"Hahahaha shut up! Shut up you guys, come on—let's get going towards the square that dude was talking about, I'll do you on the way—"

"He said THAT too!"

"Haha shut up! Man I can't WAIT to get ranked, this is gonna be, like, the BEST. Hey, you think they've got any, like, demon chicks here? Damn but that'd be wicked! Hey, what're those stairs? Is that like a dungeon or something?"

"Nah, that dude said about it, remember? He said it's like where they dump all the loose monsters."

"Loose monsters, coooool! We should TOTALLY check that out!"

"Nah man—come on, focus! This isn't like going through Moss Pile or Pure Glade, this is the real deal here! First we gotta get ranked, then we gotta get our digs, THEN we can start thinking about loose monsters."

"That's what he said!"

"You guuuuys~"

Nala was already at the bottom of the stairs, sheer stone walls rising on either side. There was a wooden door, already open, leading to a long stone room, lit by dimly glowing crystals. Against one wall were wooden benches, against the other were cell-like cages. In the far wall were large double doors, firmly closed, and beside these, seated at the very end of the very last bench seat, was a girl. She was tall but slumped, straggly hair hanging down to hide her face, arms wrapped in bandages, clothing old and ragged and dark.

"Nala!"

Nala turned to see her goblin companion scurrying towards her, relief on his odd little face.

"Tzugakk," she said. "What is this place?"

"I don't know! I was pushed through the portal then pushed through another portal and then I was here, and now you are here. I thought that killing the ogre was enough, is this another part of the trial? When does it end! Do you have this on your hand? What is this?"

Tzugakk held up his big hand, displaying a circular tattoo identical to Nala's.

"'BrightCircle', the man said," Tzugakk muttered, scratching at the glowing tattoo. "'Safehold shard' that cannot be lost, this is like a curse!"

"Safehold shard," Nala repeated. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a rough blue-green crystal, which she threw across the room. It bounced off a wall and across the floor, then its light faded. Glumly, Nala reached into her pocket again and produced the same crystal, still with that same blue-green glow.

"They did not lie," she said. "Safehold shards cannot be lost or discarded."

"They said, 'take this'," Tzugakk was muttering, "they said, 'walk there', they said, 'there will be light' and there was—Nala, what do we do?"

Nala was silent, gazing at the girl sitting in the corner. She hadn't moved, not at all.

"Monsters," Nala murmured. She looked at Tzugakk. "I heard others talk of recruiting. Can we do that? 'Back of the hand'."

Tzugakk held up his left hand, frowning as he examined it—then he flinched as Nala took his wrist and pressed the back of her own hand firmly against his. There was a glow from their BrightCircles, and a jangly little tune.

"Is that recruiting?" Nala looked at her hand, her BrightCircle still glowing. "We must find others—that girl. She is a monster?"

Tzugakk tore his gaze away from his own BrightCircle to shake his head at Nala. "Zombie yes, but not a monster, no no. She is lost, not empty. She could be useful!" Tzugakk continued to talk as he followed Nala towards the girl: "There were many zombies in my forest, monster zombies, hollow zombies, adventurers ignored them! Why? Too much work, takes too long to kill, good defence but so slow. Running is easy, from a zombie."

The girl didn't react until Nala and Tzugakk were standing near, and then it was only a twitch of her hand and a low, rattling moan. Up close her undead status was more obvious; her skin was blue, and though only her right eye could be seen through her tangled dark hair, it had a dullness to it that spoke more of death than life.

"Hello," Nala said. "Can you talk?"

The zombie girl moaned again, longer this time, and louder.

"Can you speak words?"

"...haaaaaard..."

"Can you look at me? Can you see me?"

The girl's hand twitched, then she made an odd rocking movement that brought her head up, hair shifting to reveal an expressionless face, her eyes sunken and dull, her nose strong and straight, her mouth thin but with an attractive quirk to it. In life, the girl had been pretty.

Slowly the zombie girl's expression changed, a subtle frown on her face as she focused on Nala.

"...smaaaaaall..."

Nala glanced at Tzugakk, who shrugged, then looked back at the girl.

"Do you have a name?"

"...naaaaaame ... aaaa ... aaaa..."

Something changed in the girl, then. Some small spark came into her dead eyes, some measure of deliberation came into her movements as she raised her head, brow creased. When she spoke again it was less rattling, less groaning:

"Aaaamaaandaaa? Aaaamaaandaaa. Amaaandaaa ... Willooow?"

There was a shockingly loud bang and a gust of air as the double doors slammed open. Three tall slim pale impeccably dressed vampire girls swept into the room, dashing Nala and Tzugakk aside as they clustered around Amanda and began loudly discussing her flaws:

"Is this it? What a wreck. It looks like it's been rolling in mud, do we really need that cluttering up the place?"

"Oh, that hair, beside EVERYthing else it's just so clichéd, 'wretchedly long tragically unwashed hair covering her face, nothing showing but a single baleful eye', ugh, you just KNOW she's going to be the shrinking violet type—no offence, Violet dear."

"Absolutely none taken," said the tallest of the vampire girls; Violet, "I know exactly what you're talking about—oh my gods, oh my many gods, the way she's looking at us, she's not intelligent, is she?" Violet's flawlessly made-up face twisted into an expression of attractively practised distaste. "There must have been a necromancer among the new entrants, how perfectly horrid."

"Mm, certainly not a desirable quality, the possibility of furniture talking back is disgusting," said the second-tallest of the girls, before flipping her long blonde hair and turning to the shortest of their trio—who still towered over Nala and Tzugakk. "I suppose I must ask—Priscilla, what class is she?"

"You won't like it," said the shortest girl; Priscilla. "She's a glumgirl."

"Oh dear goodness," cried Violet, delightfully horrified. "Nothing but a meat shield! The most useless of all zombie classes and that IS saying something."

"I suppose Storm might be able to use her as a training dummy," said the second-tallest girl, regarding Amanda with thoughtfully judging eyes. "Storm dear, what do you think?"

Leaning against the wall was a young man, just as pale as the girls and even taller, wearing a black leather jacket worn open to show off his impeccable abs. Further than that he was difficult to describe, the eyes naturally went to the perfection of his exposed abdomen and there they stayed. He took in a long, weary breath, blew it out through his nose, ran a hand through his hair then crossed his arms.

"Whatever," he breathed.

"I guess we do have to take her, anyway," Priscilla said. "We've got a responsibility."

"Oh, I know, I know," Violet said. "One must be gracious to those less fortunate—"

"Y-you cannot."

The second-tallest girl raised her head, a confused look upon her face.

"Did something just squeak?" she asked.

"She is not 'furniture'," Tzugakk pressed on. "She is not a 'training dummy'."

"What IS that?" Violet asked, staring down at Tzugakk with an expression of horrified curiosity. "Storm, step on it, it's looking at me funny."

"Come come, Violet! Surely you recognise a goblin when you see one?" said the second-tallest girl, after a mere glance at Tzugakk. "We had that infestation last summer, you remember?"

"Oh of course," Violet said, looking away from Tzugakk now. "Yes, yes, yes, perhaps I simply blocked out the memory as being too horrible to retain—do you know, this is just exactly what I was saying to you earlier, Amity my darling, the standards for admission into this academy are quite simply slipping. It used to be we had a higher class of new entrants even among the low-tiers—I blame these 'safehold shard' things, it just makes it too easy on them."

"I entirely agree," said the second-tallest girl; Amity. "Without the possibility of death—"

There was a jangly little tune from somewhere close, and a glow from the back of Amanda's hand; her BrightCircle was clearly visible.

"That's peculiar," Violet said. "Pris, what's going on there?"

"I'm ... not sure? That was the 'you just got a new party member!' jingle, but there's no one—"

"You cannot take this girl," came Nala's voice, before she appeared beside Amanda. "I have already recruited her."

The vampires all stared down at Nala as she stared resolutely up at them.

The tension was broken by Violet's high, superior laughter.

"I suppose I should thank you for taking it off our hands—but I won't. There's no point, it's not like any of you will be around long enough to make remembering so much as your names worthwhile."

With that the vampires swept away, without a glance back—except once, a scathing look from Violet directed at Nala that said 'I may not know your petty little name but I WILL remember your ugly little face'.

Then they were gone, and Tzugakk breathed out in relief.

"Foolish," he muttered. "Reckless. I should not have spoken—"

"No. You should not have." Nala was looking down at Amanda. "Can you walk?"

Amanda gave no response, not so much as a twitch.

Nala reached out to take the girl's cold, bandaged arm in her hand.

"Stand," she said. "And follow. If we are attacked, protect us."

"...proooteeect..."

"Good." Nala glanced at Tzugakk as they walked towards the stairs. "We need to find others, as many as we can recruit. I don't know what this place is. I do understand that it is dangerous."

Above, once they'd managed to help Amanda negotiate the stairs, the wide street was noticeably lacking in potential party members; the great doors were shut and the street was empty.

"No one is here," Tzugakk said. "Bad if we need to find others, but good if there is no one to attack us!"

"Safe zone," Nala muttered. "They formed parties, then moved on. We're too late."

The street was long, but at its end Nala could see four giant stone sentinels guarding a wide arch—one brandishing a sword, another wielding a staff, the third a robed figure with an orb cradled in its hands, the fourth cloaked and hooded, clutching a bladeless hilt. Beyond the arch there seemed to be a wide square surrounded by yellow stone buildings all crowded together—perhaps a city.

But this is not a city, Nala thought. It is an academy. Bright Battle, the noisy ones had said. They were excited to be here.

"Nala?"

Nala gazed at the statues as she spoke:

"There is only one direction. Forward."

The street seemed smaller here. It seemed stronger. Stronger? Was that the word? Was that appropriate? The bricks were big. Bricks. Stones. Bricks. Red bricks. Pretty. Different to ... different to...

...before...

Amanda blinked, then again, then frowned. There were sounds. Familiar sounds.

Bricks. Stones. Cobbles? Stones. Red. Red, here. Not below. Grey below. Red around. Above. Aqueduct. Aqueduct.

"Aaaaqueduuuct."

Something in the air. Something between the big red aqueduct and the empty blue beyond.

"Haaand. Myyy haaand? Myyy hand. My hand. My hand?"

Amanda became aware that her hand was raised and that she was staring at it and talking to it. This awareness led to another awareness, or a discovery of sorts.

"I ... I think—" Amanda stopped and lowered her hand, then spoke to the aqueduct before her: "I remember how to be embarrassed."

For a time Amanda simply stood there, staring at the aqueduct, at its high arches and the shaded areas beneath, experiencing embarrassment and vaguely wondering how it was that she had come to be dead, which led to further vague thoughts as to how it was that she had come to be undead.

Eventually she came to the realisation that she was thinking. That she was conscious. That she was ... that she was.

This was soon followed by another realisation; that she had a name, and that this name was being shouted at her, and that this shouting had been going on for some time, and that ... and that...

Amanda turned, surprised and pleased at how easy this was. She was standing on a street, and she was also pleased to be able to understand the concept of 'standing' and the concept of 'a street'. There were regular patches of earth to the sides; gardens, she thought. Except empty. Empty gardens. Old gardens? Dead gardens. And an aqueduct. Except there's no water. What is an aqueduct without water?

"Just a ... duct?"

Speaking was easier too. There was less rattle in her voice. Less 'groan' to it. That being the case...

"Oh," Amanda said, after taking a step forward that was, while not in any way elegant, far from a lurch. She took another step, then another. She was slow, she was stiff, she felt as if her body was stuffed with cotton wool, but she had control. She had freedom.

"I can walk," she said, as she continued to do so.

Meanwhile, nearby, crouched behind a stack of crates and with more than a little urgency, a goblin and a dwarf called Amanda's name. Nala had an arrow through her arm and a long graze on her cheek, and Tzugakk's leg was bleeding.

"What is she doing?" Tzugakk asked, as another arrow thudded into the crates. He flinched, then continued: "Is she coming?"

"She was looking at her hand," Nala said. "Now she's walking."

"To us?"

"Just walking."

An arrow shattered against the street nearby, and Tzugakk shrank back from it.

"Can we do anything?" he asked. "Can we escape?"

Nala was silent.

Down the street a little way, Amanda was staring at a house. There were lots of houses nearby, now that she looked, all of them made from the same red brick as the aqueduct. It was a nice shade of red. Not too bright. Not too dark. Perfect, in a sense.

"Amanda! Please come! Please help!"

The voice seemed like it should be familiar—and the name certainly was.

"Oh," Amanda murmured, as a vague sense of identity once more returned. She looked up the street, the one she'd been walking down. There were houses, nice red brick houses, and beside one of the houses was a stack of crates, and behind the stack of crates was a small worried face. Just a face? No, Amanda thought, that doesn't work. A small worried face connected to a small worried body, that's more sensible.

As she studied the house and the crates and the face, Amanda noticed that there were a lot of small straight wooden things around—arrows, her memory helpfully supplied—and that the longer she watched the more of them there were. Where did they come from? Why were they there? These mysteries occupied Amanda's attention until inspiration struck and she walked forward, slow, measured steps that took her closer to the house and the crates and the arrows. Arrows are loosed from a bow, she thought. So the bow is ... there. Attached to that person. Wearing a bucket. On his head.

This seemed unusual, to Amanda. She wasn't entirely sure what a bucket was used for, but it didn't seem quite correct to wear one on your head.

She stepped back, then slowly frowned. She hadn't meant to step back. Looking down, she saw something sticking from her chest; the back half of an arrow.

Amanda took another involuntary step back, and when she looked down this time there were two arrows sticking out of her chest.

This feels wrong, she thought. I'm almost certain I don't usually have arrows in my chest. This does not seem like a normal situation.

"Amanda!" came a voice from nearby, but by the time she turned to see who it was Tzugakk and Nala had already taken her bandaged arms and were dragging her away, up the street and towards one of the aqueduct's arches.

"She IS useful!" Tzugakk cried, as they half-ran, half-stumbled beneath the arch and through to the other side—more streets and more red brick houses greeted them. "See, Nala?"

"Useful for being hit by arrows," Nala muttered, steering Amanda into turning.

"Arrows," Amanda said. As if on cue, one impacted against the ground behind the group—but they were around the corner and into a new street now, away from the bucket-helmeted archer ... but straight into two fighters.

"Heh, hey there," said the shorter and broader of the pair. He held two wicked-looking axes, both glowing with dark auras. His breastplate appeared to be made of carved bone, which clashed somewhat with his metal wolf-head helmet and plate-and-chain leggings. The taller and slimmer of the two wore similarly mismatched equipment, his weapon a red-orange lance, his helmet made of some kind of blue metal with a dragon motif, his cloak green with a gold feather insignia. Meanwhile his black leather armour had a definite 'spidery' look to it and his pointy blue-and-pink-auraed boots could have clashed with anything. He was also holding a long, thin stave that appeared to have been made from dozens of finger bones all joined together, which didn't help his hodgepodge appearance at all.

"Already got the necro," said the lancer, his voice low and hoarse. "Looks like we're following him with a zombie girl chaser—"

"Nah," the axeman said. "Zombies take ages. You get whatever the hell that little green thing is, I'll take stumpy roughskins, then we'll let Bucket use blue girl for target practice. Even split."

Nala had been looking around as the two had talked, searching for a way out—but there was nothing, just houses all close together and the archer behind, and she heard Tzugakk's shrill cry as the lancer launched himself into the air, an impossibly high leap with an inevitably deadly arc, and then the axeman was before her, grinning in her face before she felt his axe bite into her neck and everything went...

...white?

Glowing white, no pain, just discomfort, and she could hear the axeman talking through the growing sense of distance:

"See that? One crit and she's down, they should give a damn overkill bonus—"

His rough voice faded into the light as Nala fell, down and down and ever-down, a new voice rising to meet her:

"Here's another one—skimmers are earning their merits today, aren't they? Let's take a look ... hmm ... nasty hit to the neck, before we do anything—"

And then things went properly black.

Bright Battle Academy's infirmary was a clean, purposeful sort of place. The floors were smooth stone with drains strategically dotted around, the walls painted a businesslike grey-blue, and the solid, no-nonsense furnishings were universally enchanted to resist liquids and stains. This often came in handy.

Upon one of these solid, no-nonsense furnishings (allegedly a bed) lay Nala Greyward. She was staring up at her left hand, at the BrightCircle tattooed upon it, wondering what the tiny dark-glowing purple butterfly fluttering around it meant. After a minute both butterfly and BrightCircle faded, and Nala lowered her hand.

Eventually she pushed herself up and slid off the bed. There was a dull stiffness to her neck and her arm itched, but she felt no pain. There was a mirror in the room; Nala padded towards it. She could see the blood on her undyed tunic, could see the tear where the axe had bit, but beneath, on her dark skin, there was little more than a smooth line to mark the injury. Her arm, too, there was a hole through both the front and back of her rough sleeve but she could barely see where the arrow had punched through her flesh. She raised her fingers to her cheek, felt the dried blood flake away, but beneath there was just smooth skin, not even a hint of the graze she'd suffered.

Nala lowered her hand, staring at herself in the mirror, at her narrow grey eyes, at her short brown hair, at her uninspiring face.

"Up already? Goodness, you took to it well. Get into a spot of trouble, did you?"

Nala turned and was smacked in the forehead—she reached for her knife but it wasn't there.

"Don't bother, you couldn't hit back anyway," said the human woman who had hit her. "Just doing a follow-up, making sure you don't have any nasty status effects still lurking around—seems to check out. Your knife's over by your bed if you really want it. I don't know if you should even bother, an iron knife in this place? We'll be seeing you back in here soon enough!"

"Wait," Nala said, as the woman went to leave. "Explain to me. I was attacked—"

"Attacked, defeated, your safehold shard stopped you from dying and brought you here for us to fix you up. Seen a wee butterfly above your BrightCircle? That's your first demerit. Four of those and you're done."

"Dead?"

"No, no, expelled! Sent back to wherever it was you came from. Couldn't imagine where that'd be, in your case!"

The woman laughed as she walked out, leaving Nala to stare down at her BrightCircle, at the butterfly flitting about above it.

"Four," she murmured. Four demerits, and I go back to where I came from. The woman was wrong; I was right. That is not expulsion.

"—maybe in this room, that healer said—Nala! Nala, we are alive!"

"Debatable," Amanda muttered, as Tzugakk ran forward to clutch at Nala's sleeve. Nala absently patted his hand, then looked at Amanda. Her clothing was more ragged than ever, filled with dozens of small holes from the arrows that had 'killed' her.

"Your speaking has improved," Nala said.

"Because there's a necromancer near!" Tzugakk said, as the zombie girl gave a stiff shrug. "The healers told us, if there is a necromancer near, Amanda can speak and move and think. We need to recruit him! For her sake!"

"Gakk told me about the whole party thing," Amanda said. "Guess I'm in with you guuuys." She cleared her throat. "You guys."

Nala nodded. "Then we need to find this necromancer."

Praetorian Darkcede's first day at Bright Battle Academy hadn't quite matched his expectations. Not that his expectations were overly high, but 'universal rejection', 'violent mugging' and 'being murdered' certainly weren't on his list of First Day Must-Dos.

Still, things were looking up now. He smiled at the pretty elf girl who had healed him, and she smiled back.

"It's just lucky they have safehold shards here," she said. "We had them back in Everleaf too but I never had to use them, hardly anyone did, they were mostly for accidents and stuff I guess. You didn't get rewarded for attacking people, that's for sure!"

"I'd never heard of them before today," Praetorian said. "In fact, I suspect that where I come from they would be seen as somewhat perverted."

"That's such a shame," said the elf girl. "But you were saying about how that's why you're here? Um, ugh, sorry, that was a really clumsy way to say that—you're going to do, um, 'research' about new things?"

"Well," Praetorian said, with a chuckle, "that's not my principle reason for coming here. No, I have certain ambitions that are more, let us say, private and personal, although I would certainly feel comfortable sharing them with one such as you. Still, I suppose—ah? Yes, can we help you?"

Standing in the doorway to Praetorian's room were two short ugly things and one tall ugly thing—particularly ugly, considering her representation of everything Praetorian was trying to get away from.

Nala glanced up at Amanda, then looked at the human sitting on the bed. He had on a long dark robe, angular around the neck, and beneath that a suit of sorts, old-fashioned but with a certain elegance to it. He also wore a long, thin leather tie, but the less said about that the better. His face was sharp, especially his eyebrows, a neatly trimmed goatee and thin black mustache adding greatly to the impression of general pointiness. Beside him, smiling cheerfully, was an elf girl with bouncy blonde hair and a face that radiated innocence, her blue eyes wide beneath large eyebrows. Her clothing was simple and flowing, white robes with green trimming, and she wore a gold band around her forehead. In her lap was a staff, pure white with a softly glowing orb suspended within a hook at the top.

"Are you a necromancer?" Nala asked the human.

"You ask, I presume, because of your zombie there." He let out a weary sigh, raising his hands and shaking his head in a theatrical expression of resignation. "Yes, I am a necromancer, for my sins. I hail from Lily Valley in Auldvyne, 'the old country', and I have absolutely no interest in any reminder of that dismal place."

"My name's Gloria!" said the elf girl, apropos of not a lot. "Gloria Lightfear, I'm from a little village in The Forest, you probably never heard of it, it's called Lamara anyway, or I guess you'd call it Nightrose in common, there's a flower that grows there, anyway, I'm a cleric, I know most elves take a special class but I'm not really much of a fighter so pureleaf didn't work for me and I didn't want to be a sweetleaf, it just all seemed too fiddly and besides I like these robes, do you like them? I don't think I suit the 'leafy' look very well but white might be my colour. My brother always says I look like a marshmallow but that's just him I think, his name's Sly, have you met him? He's really nice but a bit gloomy lately, especially today, he was having trouble finding a party to join up with—do you guys need an archer? He's a sniper, he's really good except for his stupid bow, it's cursed, it's a whole big cursed bow story, he had this exact same problem back at Everleaf, not being able to find a group I mean, that's kind of why we both ended up coming here, well I was thinking about it anyway but he wants to get enough merits to pay for the decursing, they can do that here, they can do ANYTHING here if you've got the merits to pay for it. Oh, this is Praetorian, he didn't say his name so I guess I will, Praetorian Darkcede, Auldvynians have such charming and unusual and interesting names, don't you think? Not like boring old 'Gloria', half the girls in my village were called that. Well not HALF but a lot. Well three, but it's a small village so it seemed like more. Um, I haven't seen any dwarves here—you're a dwarf, right? I haven't met any before, but I thought—oh, and, um ... a goblin? Wow. I, um ... I kind of thought you guys were just monsters. Oh! Are you a monster? Are you a beasttamer? Are these your monsters that you brought with you?"

Nala blinked at Gloria.

"I am not a beasttamer," she said. "These are not my monsters—these are not monsters."

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, I just thought—well, um, please accept my apology, I really didn't mean to, I mean, I just, sometimes I say things? And even though I don't mean to they come out weird. So. Um. Hi?"

"Hello?"

"Ahem," Praetorian said, this directed at Nala. "As much fun as it is to meet new people, this charming young lady and I were engaged in a private conversation. If you three would care to leave, I'm sure that would work best for all concerned. Now," he said, turning to Gloria, Nala and the others apparently forgotten in an instant, "I am in all ways utterly taken by the insights you've already shared, and I'm sure a further exchange of views would only benefit us both—perhaps we should arrange a meeting point in case we're separated—"

"Do you realise he's hitting on you?" Amanda asked Gloria.

"I, um, what? No! You're not, are you? No, we were just talking ... weren't we?"

All eyes went to Praetorian, who smiled at Amanda, his fingers steepled beneath his goatee.

"Indeed," he said, his pointed gaze still upon Amanda. "Just talking."

"Okay," Gloria said. "Phew. Anyway, so, I should get to—oh my gosh, I totally forgot, I'm supposed to meet with my party! Jane's bound to have gotten more people by now but I was going to, I mean I promised, I just got caught up—"

Gloria stopped and took a self-consciously deep breath, then continued talking faster than ever:

"Because I joined up with Jane Hearthguard's group, I mean we were in the admissions line together and we got talking well mostly it was me talking I guess but anyway it turned out she wanted a healer for her party and I'm a healer and she was serious but nice and well she's a paladin so I thought that's got to be good, we're both lawful after all and that's really important to me, back at Everleaf I got put in with a bunch of chaotics and that did NOT end well so um so yes so anyway, then I came here to check out the infirmary because I heard you can volunteer to get merits and somehow I got roped into helping out even before I signed up, someone just said 'go heal that guy in that room!' and I was all like 'okay!' because well I AM a healer. So um, now I'd better get back to my party. Praetorian, I don't know where I'm going to be staying, maybe in Fauxgreen somewhere unless we get a good party ranking, I guess Jane might have some plans ... well anyway, if you see me say hi—you guys too, don't be shy, okay? Okay bye!"

Nala and the others stood aside for Gloria, and she waved at them as she ran off. They waved back. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

Then they turned to look at Praetorian.

He wasn't waving.

The expression on his face suggested that he might never wave again.

"Well," he said, acidly. "Thank you so very much for that timely interruption, the very first elf maiden I meet who isn't instantly psychotic and what shows up to scuttle my chances? Nothing less than a zombie. Fate is having a splendid laugh at my expense today, that's certainly clear. Who are you people? Why do you have a goblin with you? Why is a dwarf even here, I thought your kind shunned the academy? Why is this place so cursedly DIFFICULT?"

Nala gazed levelly at Praetorian. "Would you like to join our party?"

"What? Pardon? Excuse me?"

"Would you like to join our party?"

"And what would entirely possess me to do that?"

"Have you already been recruited?"

"Of course I haven't, nobody wants a necromancer in this place."

"Why not?"

"Because nobody dies here! For a class based primarily around death that's a fairly significant negative point! Of course nobody told me this before I came here, nobody thought to mention this seemingly trivial yet vitally important little factoid." Praetorian took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "One of the disadvantages of living in the old country," he said, his voice more level, his expression more calm. "Even the information is outdated. The mystery surrounding this place didn't exactly help."

"It would make sense for you to join us," Nala said. "You are a necromancer and we have a zombie—"

"I came here to escape zombies. My particular slice of Auldvyne is utterly lousy with the wretched things. Zombies and slimes, that's all we are famous for—"

"You have no stave," came Tzugakk's quiet voice. Praetorian stared at him, then smirked humourlessly.

"Indeed," he said. "Very observant. Another lovely surprise that the illustrious Bright Battle Academy sprang upon me, another important omission; the bullying here verges on the sadistic."

"It was taken from you?" Tzugakk asked.

"How?" Amanda added.

"I'd much rather not discuss it, if it's all the same to you. Suffice to say a combination of brute force, intimidation and treachery came together in an amalgamation that led to the loss of that particular heirloom and my 'death'. The first of many, I gloomily predict." Praetorian sighed and shook his head. "I did not come here to fight. My intentions were purely peaceful; all I want is to find an elf maiden and explore the delights of interspecies courtship. It seems fate had something to say about that. Indeed, perhaps it WAS fate that parted me from my stave—'be careful what you wish for', yes? I wished to be entirely free of my homeland. With the loss of my staff that wish, it seems, was granted." Praetorian fixed a cool gaze upon Amanda. "And then you showed up."

There was a short silence, broken by Nala:

"Will you join us?"

Praetorian laughed. "Persistent, aren't you? But my answer must remain unchanged, I have no wish to spend any time in the company of the undead, that is certainly not my reason for coming here."

"She needs you," Tzugakk said, quietly. "She needs your presence to ... to keep herself—"

"Are you explaining the prescripts of undeath to me?" Praetorian asked. "To me, an Auldvynian necromancer of the Lily Valley? Hear this, goblin; if nothing else, I know zombies."

"Then you know that you are her freedom."

Praetorian stared at Tzugakk. Tzugakk gazed back.

After a time, Praetorian laughed, a sound devoid of joy.

"Ah, fate," he said, spreading his arms wide and raising his face to the dull grey-blue ceiling, "I am but your plaything. So this is to be my destiny? Eternal steward of the lesser undead?"

Amanda started as Praetorian fixed his gaze upon her, the intensity of his eyes disturbing.

"D-don't look at me like that."

"Raise your right arm," Praetorian said. Amanda found herself doing so.

"W-what—"

"And now your left leg."

Amanda did as Praetorian commanded and promptly fell over.

"Yes, typical," Praetorian said, as Tzugakk hurried to help Amanda up. "What would you be, a walker?"

"Glumgirl, apparently," Amanda muttered.

"Oh, marvellous. Glumgirl. At least your binding appears strong. Whoever raised you seems to have done an adequate job." Praetorian let out a long sigh. "Very well, I submit to fate; I shall join your diverse little party. After all, as your goblin friend there stated so dramatically, I am your freedom. Who is your leader?"

Nala held out her hand, and Praetorian pressed the back of his against it. There was a jangly little tune and the glow of twin BrightCircles, and Praetorian smiled thinly around at his new party.

"Well then," he said. "You have a staveless necromancer as your new comrade. Whatever your expectations I'm sure I'll disappoint. Were you heading to Destiny Square? I shiver with the thought of what desperate stragglers might still be there."

"Do you always talk such rubbish in such a rubbishy way?" Amanda asked.

"Yes, I can see such value in helping you retain your personality, it's such a pleasant and charming one, isn't it? Already regret comes to claim me, a dark shadow passing over my sun."

"What is Destiny Square?" Nala asked.

"Oh, you don't know? It's where ranking takes place. That's where all the stragglers gather, those who have yet to find a party. I was headed there before those charming bullies put it upon themselves to rob and murder me. Rather a distraction, you must concur."

Nala had already turned away, was speaking to the others as they left the room together:

"We may be able to find more people to recruit there. The more in our party, the safer we will all be."

"I'll just follow along behind then, shall I?" Praetorian called after them. He sighed and went to pick up his stave before wincing at his mistake. "Yes," he muttered, as he hurried after the others. "Just follow along behind, that's what I'll do."

Destiny Square was wide and tall, surrounded by raised streets, a large domed building taking up the centre. Flags fluttered above and balloons floated in the sky, but below there was little activity; whatever had happened here was over and done.

"As expected," Praetorian said, surveying the few new entrants remaining. "Slim pickings here, to be sure."

"There's someone," Amanda said. She tried to raise her arm to point then rattled out a frustrated groan. "She's coming over here."

"Helloooo," said the girl who'd just flounced up to them, her accent strong and strange. "Are you guys a party? Yeah? I'm Elene, I'm a tepsichord—don't worry if you haven't heard of the class, it's new, one of the latest to be council-approved."

Elene had dark skin and purple eyes, her hair bouncy and curly and pink, tied with rainbow-coloured ribbons to form high twintails. She wore a puffy blue outfit with rainbow trimming, and gave the general impression of being far too bright.

"I'm from Nimbus, in case you didn't already guess," Elene said, while the members of Nala's party struggled to think what to say. "My whole family are researchers there, me as well, I got picked to come test out this new class—but who cares about that, you guys are gonna make a team, right?"

"We're searching for members," Nala said. "We are forming a party."

"No no no, a TEAM! For the tournament! Preliminaries are starting in just a few weeks, I'm really trying to get more people interested, especially low-tier classes like you guys—rogue, right? And a necromancer, wow, first one I've seen here, you guys are SO unpopular, haha, and wow, a zombie! Walker?"

"Glumgirl," muttered Amanda.

"Even better! And what are you, you're a goblin, right? Haha, wow, I don't even KNOW what classes you guys can pick—if you found a couple more people you guys would be perfect."

Praetorian treated Elene to a charming smile. "Then would you consider joining us?"

"Haha, no way! Sorry, I gotta solo it, being in a party would undermine the purity of the experiment and that'd make a loooot of people unhappy. Besides, tepsichords are too new, still 'untested', not allowed in tournament matches is what I'm saying. Banned! Banned from competitive fighting! Hahaha. Seriously though, sign up for the games you guys! They're a ton of fun and tactic merits are valuable, I mean sure, you'd probably be taken out by one of the FAR too many three-fighters-and-a-healer teams but it'd be an interesting fight at least! Plus defeats in a match don't earn demerits so you've got nothing to lose, right? Anyway, think about it!" Elene glanced around at the near-empty square. "Looks like this thing's over, I better get to my cottage and contact home—gotta use the crystal set I brought with me, have you SEEN these things?" Elene held up her safehold shard, regarding it with an expression of superior distaste. "Dark age stuff, am I right? Closed-path synchronisation and not even a safeway pass, I'm amazed the guild is still using such utterly ancient tech. They were supposed to bring in all these changes and modernise this place but, haha, I'm not seeing it! Anyway, good luck and stuff—if you're looking for a potential recruit there was an elf moping around here just before, kinda glum, something about being cursed, seems like he'd fit right in with you guys, huh? Hahaha!"

With that and a mock-salute Elene bounced away, leaving Nala and her party to stare after her.

"Well," said Praetorian. "She seemed a happy soul."

A soft tug at her sleeve brought Nala's attention to Tzugakk. He pointed subtly and shyly.

"There," Nala said, her eyes upon a bench shadowed by a tall tree. Its sole occupant was a glum elf with a large spiky bow set at his side.

"Ah, perhaps this is the brother of whom Gloria spoke," Praetorian said, as they approached. "That bow certainly looks cursed—may I do the talking? I have something of a way with those of the elvish persuasion. Objections none? Excellent. Hello there! Gloria's brother, I presume? Sly Lightfear? I see the resemblance in your eyebrows."

The elf looked up at Praetorian. He had sandy-brown hair that entirely failed to disguise his strikingly large eyebrows, despite how low he wore it. His eyes were large, slanted, and half-hooded, his passive appearance matched by his loose green and brown clothes.

"Yeah," he said. "Sure. 'Gloria's brother'. You guys looking to recruit?"

Nala went to reply, but Praetorian's raised hand stopped her.

"Perhaps," he said. "What can you offer us?"

Sly straightened a little, pushed his hair away from his eyes, and took his bow in one hand.

"Well, uh, I'm a sniper, that's my class, plus I get a racial bonus with this stupid thing. Uh ... this thing. This bow."

All eyes turned to the bow in question. It was large and bulky, seemed to be made from some kind of dark metal, and had far more spikes than a projectile weapon would seem to require. The spiralling purple-black aura didn't really help matters at all.

"It's, uh, kind of cursed," Sly said. "Not that you could tell. It's got kind of a big to-hit penalty. Damage and crit bonuses are decent though, plus it's got ScatterShot as an intrinsic, that's pretty nice. Uh, and because I'm a sniper I get Pinpoint, that gives me a hundred percent to-hit. Just, uh, just once a day, though. And just against one target. Kind of already used that today, though. Bunch of fighters, got me alone, all ganged up on me ... yeah. Managed to get a couple of good hits in on the leader, didn't take him out but it was enough to scare 'em off ... you don't get merits for scaring people though."

"Hm," said Praetorian. "It seems that your class skill would at least temporarily offset the penalty given by this bow—I assume this is the reason you picked it—and so I'm forced to wonder, why haven't you been snapped up already?"

"Dunno. People are just picky I guess. Ranged attackers aren't in fashion, hand-to-hand dudes are sturdier and have higher damage output so yeah, can see why nobody wants me. Just a lazy dude with a cursed bow he can't unequip."

"We will have you," Tzugakk said, quietly. "If you will join us."

Sly looked around, at Tzugakk and Amanda and Nala. "Kind of ragtag or something," he said before grinning lazily, displaying a missing front tooth. "Could work. Who's your leader?"

Nala held out her hand and Sly slapped his against it, humming along with the jangly recruitment tune.

"Heard that a hundred times today," he said, inspecting his glowing BrightCircle. "Kind of gets in your head after a while."

"You should be happy," Amanda said to Praetorian. "We've got an elf now."

"Yes ... I can't say that he's entirely my type. No offence intended, of course," Praetorian said to Sly, accompanying this with an elegant bow. "As I mentioned earlier, there's little resemblance between you and your lovely sister—aside from the distinctive eyebrows."

"Sure," Sly said with a shrug. "Story of my life. She gets the blessing and I get the curse. So you met her, huh? See that staff she had? Yeah, got that the same time this stupid bow grabbed me. Couple of demon chests in a local dungeon, Grigori Staff for her, VeldHart Bow for me."

Praetorian frowned. "The thought of getting it checked before equipping it didn't cross your mind?"

"I was a kid, dude, I was excited. Can't get rid of the stupid thing now. S-rank curse, can you believe? Heard they could do something about that here and Gloria was already making noise about coming, so ... yeah. We gonna go get ranked now? Dunno if there's anyone else around here still looking."

Those others left in the square all seemed to be in groups, newly-formed parties discussing strategies and plans, or waiting to be admitted to the large building in the centre.

"Hm," said Praetorian. "It seems that there may not be anyone else yet unattached. Unless some poor pathetic soul is yet to arrive here—"

The necromancer stopped, distracted by a clanking sound coming closer, and as he and the others watched a small girl in big armour came running into the square, tripped on the spear she was carrying, and fell flat on her face.

Praetorian raised an eyebrow.

"Rather terrifying timing, actually."

Amanda and Tzugakk were already going to the girl's aid, Tzugakk getting there first.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, offering a tentative hand. The girl waved it aside apologetically, pushing herself up with surprising ease given the bulkiness of the armour. It was light blue in colour with a white feather motif, a subtle blue-green aura surrounding it.

"Um, it's okay—I'm okay, I mean," she said, her voice softly accented. "I'm, um ... I'm used to it."

The girl adjusted the winged headband-helmet she was wearing, then took off her square glasses to check that they hadn't cracked. She had dark skin and wide eyes, and her hair was short and black, two little pigtails poking out beneath her ears.

"Oh, thank you," the girl said, as Tzugakk shyly presented her fallen spear. "It's new, my old one ... I don't have my old one any more, this is longer and heavier, apparently it's better but ... I miss my old spear..."

"Why were you running?" Nala asked. "Are you being chased?"

"Oh! No. Thank goodness. No, I wanted to get back here before everyone left, but ... I guess I might be too late. My name's Mist, by the way. Mist Reginleif. I'm a valkyrie! Um, I don't suppose any of you are heroes?"

Amanda let out an involuntary rattling moan, then put her hand over her mouth, embarassed.

"Excuse me," she said. "I didn't ... sorry."

Mist smiled awkwardly at Amanda, then looked around at Nala and the others, her smile fading along with the hope in her eyes.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't think so but I thought I should ask. Someone told me there was a hero down that street but all I found was a dead end with a bunch of smashed crates. I think they might have been lying! Do you know, people can be pretty mean here? I even got attacked before!"

"Astonishing," said Praetorian.

"I know, I didn't think, I mean, nobody told me about THAT! This place is totally different to what I expected, everyone said there'd be heroes! They said that Bright Battle was FAMOUS for heroes! I was so looking forward to meeting one finally, but everyone's just a fighter or a healer or something..." Mist trailed off and sighed softly. "All in all it's been quite a disappointing day."

Awkward silence followed, which Amanda took it upon herself to break.

"Um," she said. "So you like heroes?"

"Of course!" Mist said, her eyes suddenly bright, her tone suddenly enthusiastic. "Valkyries and heroes have a very deep connection, you know. Wherever heroes go, valkyries will follow! And everyone said that Bright Battle was legendary for all its heroes, that's why I got sent here, because in my village—well, on my island—everyone's mostly a fisherman or nethandler or something, there are hardly any fighting-type classes at all and definitely no heroes. And, do you know, I don't think there are even any valkyries here either! I'm the only one! Just like back home ... I mean, since my mother died. I was really little then so I don't remember her much." Mist's eyes went distant and she stared at nothing for a second, then she smiled brightly around at the others. "But I am determined to live up to her memory and bring glory to the class of valkyrie! It's my dream," she added, in earnest explanation.

Nala and the others stared at the girl, with her square glasses and stubby pigtails and spear taller than her head and armour that was far too big for her.

"So," Mist said. "So, um. I don't guess you might maybe be looking for anyone to join your party? Because ... I mean ... I don't think I'm going to find a hero around here ... and I, I don't think anyone else really ... you know ... wants me..."

"Rough day, huh?" Sly said. "Know that feeling."

Mist sighed. "Lots of people made fun of me—of valkyries! One said we were an obsolete class, I couldn't believe that ... but actually that was one of the better reactions ... at least he'd heard of valkyries..."

"I have heard of them."

Mist looked at Praetorian, a thin, brave smile on her face.

"Oh?"

"Although not overmuch," he admitted. "'Raven-sister', that's part of your little poem thing, isn't it?"

Mist nodded eagerly. "Shieldmaiden, swan-friend, raven-sister, last hope of the fallen. But, um, I don't actually have a shield."

"You are a maiden, though?"

"Hey!" Amanda snapped. "Not okay!"

Praetorian spread his hands innocently. "Could I help but ask?"

"Um," Mist said. "Well. Yes, I have to be. Remain pure, I mean. It's part of the class requirements."

"Hm." Praetorian regarded Mist thoughtfully. "Suddenly the reason for the class's decline in popularity becomes apparent. I suppose I shouldn't complain, I wished for an elf maiden and what does fate grant me? An elf and a maiden. I should not have expected more than this. It appears my dreams of cross-cultural relations are only that; it is of dreamstuff that my desires are formed, and the silken pleasures I crave remain ethereal and mysterious."

"You're ridiculous and slightly disgusting," Amanda said. "Do you know that?"

Praetorian shrugged. "I am true to my nature, as base as that might be. For this I neither expect understanding nor demand acceptance."

Amanda rolled her dull eyes and turned away.

"Here."

Mist blinked at Nala, at her outstretched hand.

"Oh! Oh, thank you, is this really okay? I can be in your party? I don't even know your name—um, I do it like this?"

"Like this," Nala said, pressing the back of her hand against Mist's, speaking over the jangly recruitment tune: "And my name is Nala Greyward."

There was still a line for the ranking office, but not much of one. Five fighters went in ahead of Nala's party, while she and the others waited in a pleasantly furnished wood-panelled room with dozens of empty seats.

"I guess there are good points about being last," Mist said, for the seventeenth time. "You guys should've been here earlier, there were so many people, I couldn't even believe it! More people than on my whole island, I bet! This place is a lot bigger than I expected. Did you expect it to be so big? I didn't! Um, what rank do you think we'll get? It's probably too much to expect a high one, I don't think we'll get B but maybe C? Do you think? Um, Nala? Do you think we might get ranked C?"

"I know nothing about the ranking system."

"Oh! Really? I thought ... I mean, you just seem like ... and you're the party leader ... you didn't read the brochures?"

Nala looked at Mist.

"In the admissions room?" Mist said. "There were lots, I think I read them all, I got here early so, um, I had to wait a while. You didn't read any? Well anyway, what they do is they take all of our classes and equipment and special abilities and combat effectiveness and compatibility and everything, then average it out and give us a ranking based on that. S is the highest, of course, then A, B, C ... anyway, once we get a rank we can choose a bunch of stuff based on that, like S-rank parties get to pick pretty much any accommodation they want except for the team houses, A-rank have a lot of options too, what do you think we can hope for? Maybe C? Even D would be okay, I read there are dorms near the ruins that looked kind of nice. C class would be great, though, you can get an actual house in one of the villages, there's one that's so pretty, all these lovely white houses with orange roofs and they're all built in close together so there aren't really streets, just like paved courtyards, and then little stairways going all up and around, it just looked so nice ... my village doesn't have anything like that, hardly any stonework at all, in comparison this place is amazing! Well, I guess in comparison to anywhere this place is amazing. I've only been here and my village, but I've heard stories. Oh, I'm from the Sunrise Islands! I didn't say that already, did I? Well I am, anyway, from Feather Island ... um, where are you all from?"

"I don't wish to talk about my homeland," Praetorian muttered, from where he sat a few seats away.

"Does it even matter?" Sly asked, a couple of seats away from Praetorian.

"I don't actually know," Amanda said, from where she sat beside Tzugakk, who looked down at his big hands, his wide mouth tight.

Mist looked around at her fellow party-members, her eyes going to Nala, who was standing near Tzugakk.

"Um, Nala? Where are you from?"

In response Nala pointed to her cheek.

"I ... I don't know what that means? You don't have a beard?"

"Female dwarfs don't have beards, it's just a myth that they do," Praetorian muttered. "She's showing you that there's nothing on her cheek."

"Huh? So you're showing me there's nothing there?"

Nala was looking away from Mist.

"Yes," she said.

"YEEEEEEAAAAH! B-RANK, WOOOOO! RED TOWN FIGHTERS FOREVER!"

Mist turned to stare at the group of fighters whooping and high-fiving their way out of the ranking office.

"Man, you guys better get in there!" one of them called. "They're feeling generous today, yeah! PARTY HOUSE HERE WE COME!"

"Generous sounds hopeful," Mist said, waving at the fighters as they left. "Should we, um, should we just go straight in?"

The ranking office turned out to be a circular room with a domed ceiling above, the floor polished marble, intricate stained-glass windows depicting humans and dwarves and elves and halflings and other races striking down demonic shadows. In the centre of the room was a circular desk with chairs arranged around—it seemed able to accommodate more than a dozen parties at once, but at this time there was only a single clerk left, a bored-looking human.

"Come on, then," he called, his voice echoing. "You're the last? Let's get you ranked and we can all get on with things. Party leader first, give me your hand."

Nala led the others to the desk and held out her hand, her BrightCircle already glowing.

"Confirm your name and class," the man muttered, peering down at a scroll through thin square spectacles.

"Nala Greyward. Rogue."

"Mm-hm. Next you have a zombie? Name and class?"

"Me? Uh ... Amanda Willow. Glumgirl, apparently."

"Next?"

"That would be me? Praetorian Darkcede, necromancer."

"Mm. Next."

"Uh, Sly Lightfear, I'm a sniper."

"Mist Reginleif!" Mist said, before the clerk could even ask. "Valkyrie!"

She shrank into her oversized armour as everyone looked at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I got excited."

"And a goblin, apparently? Oh, there you are. Name and class?"

"Tzugakk." Tzugakk shifted where he stood, hesitated before continuing in an even softer voice than normal: "Stenchmerchant."

"Yes, unsurprising I suppose," said the clerk. "That's all of you? Wait there a moment, then, this part—oh, it's already done. Not much to calculate, I suppose. Hm. Hm-hm. Hm, haven't had one of these in a while."

"What is it?" Mist asked, going on tip-toes to try to see the scroll the clerk held. "Is it our rank? Is it bad? Oh no, it's not F, is it? Are we Rank F?"

"No, no."

"Oh, phew."

"You're Rank Z."

Silence carried particularly well in the big domed room. It was Mist who broke it:

"Z? Z? There's a Rank Z?"

"Yes, well, your lack of equipment didn't exactly help, nor did the cursed weapon. Puts you dead last for choice, no special privileges or permissions or bonus merits—and as for accommodation, well, you're just going to have to find it where you can. I'd suggest splitting up, try for your base class-type lodgings—you, elf, play the race card and you'll likely get in over on Fauxgreen. Necromancer, take your pet and head to Everglim, near the craft quarter, it's not far from here."

"I'm not his pet," Amanda protested. "And I want my OWN lodgings!"

"Technically speaking you are a monster," said the clerk. "Z-ranked at that. You're lucky we're not just putting you in the zoo."

"In any case," Praetorian said, "you must stay at my side or you'll lose what little personality you currently retain. Believe me, if I could have it any other way..."

"I wouldn't complain," said the clerk, "Everglim's one of the safer parts of the academy. Not many bullies want to risk tangling with mages, at least not on their home turf. Plenty of cottages too, near the gardens."

"Cottages," said Praetorian. "Now that doesn't sound too unbearable."

"Um, what about me?" Mist asked.

"'Valkyrie'. Hm. Fighter would be your base class, I suppose ... try the dorms in battle quarter, check the signs outside for directions, it's a bit of a hike from here. The company might be a little rough but you'll soon get used to it."

From Mist there came a tiny squeak.

"I, um ... I thought we might be able to stay together?" she said. "Since we're a party?"

"If you were higher ranked then certainly. Not much you can do with Z, though. Now, the rogue and the little nobbler, you'd be best off trying your luck in the sprawl, just at the southern edge of the ruins near Waveless Beach. That's where all the miscellaneous low-tier scum gather."

"Is that, uh ... it?" Sly asked, after a short silence.

"Unless you have any questions? No? Good. Out now, go on. It'll get dark soon, you certainly don't want to be without a safe zone once the sun goes down, especially not on the first day."

The darkening sky outside the ranking office matched the newly-formed party's mood. The butt of Mist's spear trailed behind her as she clanked through Destiny Square.

"I really thought we'd all be together," she said. "I know we all just met up but I feel better with you guys around. I thought being a party..."

Mist trailed off gloomily. Tzugakk patted her plate-armoured arm.

"That was my hope also, yes," he said. "Safety in numbers, to protect us all from the dangers of this place."

"Hm. Even together we don't present much of a threat," Praetorian said. "What can we do? I have no stave, our valkyrie seems more likely to trip over her spear than employ it effectively, our sniper's bow is cursed not to hit, 'stenchmerchant' sounds like exactly the wrong kind of offensive, our party leader has only the most basic iron knife, and it," he said, nodding at Amanda, "is restricted by class from so much as equipping a weapon."

"She." Tzugakk's voice was as soft as ever. "Not 'it'."

"Well forgive me, please do, but if you'd had the history that I do with her kind then you would perhaps excuse my use of the impersonal pronoun. Regardless, I am going, before night truly falls. Coming, zombie?"

"Like I have a choice," Amanda muttered.

"Oh, but of course you do! You can shamble along after me or you can stay here and lurch around being ineffective. Does that sound appealing? No? Then come along."

"Wait."

Praetorian let out an exaggerated sigh then turned to give Nala his full attention.

"Does our 'leader' have something she wishes to say?" he asked. "Before we all seek what little sanctuary we may find in this wretched place?"

"Tzugakk is right," Nala said. "Our best chance of survival is in keeping together."

"Survival?" Sly laughed, not a little nervously. "You make it sound like this is life or death, dude. Worst that can happen here is we get beat up too many times and they kick us out."

Nala caught Tzugakk's eye as Praetorian spoke:

"But you must admit that her point is valid. After today's frightful events I have little hope of making it past the first week, but I would like to remain here at least long enough to explore certain possibilities. My desires are few and base in nature, but I'd like to indulge them before being forced to return to the zombie-infested hole that is my homeland. Above all else that means avoiding demerits, which means avoiding death."

"I, um, I think they call it 'defeat' here," Mist said. "We should also, um, I mean we should be trying to earn merits, too. That's the whole point of this place, right? To earn enough merits to graduate, to buy adventuring licenses and that kind of thing. I read that you can get merits for doing lots of different stuff ... nothing I'm good at, though..."

Praetorian laughed through his nose. "And what ARE you good at, pray tell?"

"...I'm okay at embroidery..."

"Don't guess there are sewing merits here, though," Sly said.

"There are some for crafting!" Mist said. "None of the brochures I read mentioned sewing but ... but maybe..."

"We're wasting time," Praetorian said. "I'm weary and the sun is setting—that cheerful and encouraging soul within the ranking office mentioned that Everglim is close and safe, and this seems to be a fairly central part of the academy. Safety and convenience seems an excellent combination to me, so what's say we all meet at my cottage tomorrow morning to discuss the best path forward? We can pool our collective knowledge of the academy and its mysterious ways and then venture out as a group to explore the opportunities before us. Disagreement? No? Then come, zombie, our 'safe zone' awaits."

"Uh, wait a sec, how are we gonna find you?" Sly asked.

"Hm. Relevant query, I suppose. Very well, how's this—I shall inscribe the front door with a sigil of some kind, cantrips of that nature are within my power even without a stave."

"A sigil?" Mist said, perking up. "Oh! Could it be a loveheart?"

Everyone looked at her, and she lowered her eyes.

"What?" she said, fiddling with her spear. "I like hearts..."

"Fine, a heart, I honestly do not care. Is there anything else anyone wants to discuss? Briefly?"

Praetorian looked around at the others, then gave a theatrically extravagant bow and turned on his heel, striding away with Amanda shuffling behind.

"Slow!" she called after him. "These legs aren't exactly made for running..."

Her dry voice faded as the two of them left the square. Sly was already slinking away, giving the others a vague wave as he departed, and Nala and Tzugakk turned to go, the goblin holding her sleeve—

"Um."

Nala and Tzugakk stopped, both looking back at Mist. Although taller than either of them she seemed tinier than ever, her too-long spear held in both hands, her mouth tight.

"Could I ... um, do you think I could maybe go with you guys? Maybe I could find a place in the sprawl or wherever..."

"Your base class is fighter," Nala said. "You have a set area. The dormitories in the battle quarter."

"I, um, but I kind of ... I mean I read about that place, it's where all the sparring and training goes on, and ... and it's, um, it's filled with, you know ... fighters..."

"Yes?"

"I just, I don't know if that's my place, it doesn't feel right and most of the fighters I met today were ... I mean ... kind of ... awful..."

Nala looked at Mist with blank eyes. Tzugakk's expression held more compassion ... but also a measure of helplessness.

"This place is confusing," he said, quietly. "But it seems class is important, yes. We are going to the sprawl, a place for rogues and other low-tier scum." Tzugakk allowed himself a small, sad smile. "You are a valkyrie, but you must also be a fighter."

"I ... I guess..."

"Goodnight, then," Nala said, once more turning to go.

"Um, goodnight ... see you two tomorrow..."

Tzugakk looked back as he followed Nala, watching Mist shuffle away.

"She is scared," he murmured.

Nala said nothing.

In Destiny Square and the streets surrounding everything was well-maintained and clean and generally nice, but the further Nala and Tzugakk travelled the rougher their surroundings grew—at first a few missing cobblestones or tufts of thick grass growing from cracks, but then the buildings began to show signs of neglect and the streets were more bare earth than anything, and soon the area resembled a ruin more than a living city, the remains of those buildings that had succumbed to time pushed roughly from the street to pile in alleys. As they walked on the sky grew dark and the streets grew narrow, gnarled trees with thick green foliage becoming a frequent sight, in some places wood dominating stone thanks to the spread of wild growth.

"Nala, a place like us," Tzugakk said, looking around with curious eyes. "City and forest coming together. It is a surprise, to find this here."

"Ruins?"

"No," Tzugakk said, grinning at Nala. "Beauty!"

Nala shook her head and they walked on in silence, passing through the overgrown ruins and making their way into an area of shadowy buildings built from dark blue stone.

"It was your plan that led us here."

Nala had spoken suddenly, her pace unchanged, and it took a surprised Tzugakk several seconds to reply:

"I'm sorry—"

"No. Not like that. This is better."

Soft orbs suddenly bloomed above the street, the ghostly blue light they cast making everything pale.

"Yes," he murmured, as they walked on beneath the glow. "Better."

"For that..."

Nala trailed off, wincing briefly before her usual flat expression returned.

"I want you to understand that I understand," she said, not looking at Tzugakk.

"Understand what?"

"That I owe you everything."

Tzugakk stopped, Nala's sleeve released from his grip. She came to a stop, too, several steps ahead of him.

"No," he said. "Together, we did it together."

"It was your plan."

"No, no no. Only my idea. The plan was yours."

"Without you I would have been lost. It was your plan."

Tzugakk smiled down at his wide feet. "I would give you my eyes if I could."

"...is that a goblin expression?"

"I want you to see Nala Greyward as I see Nala Greyward. My eyes see her better than her eyes see her. Your life before, you told me, you were small and weak and slow but you survived because you understood how things worked—"

"This place is nothing like Sontra."

"Both places have rules. You are good at rules. You listen and you learn and you adapt and you become better and better and better, that is you, Nala!"

Nala did not reply. Tzugakk smiled at her and took her sleeve, and together they walked on through the ghost-blue streets. As the sky darkened further and stars became visible there came subtle activity; shadows cast on distant walls, whispers in the alleys surrounding, footsteps on rooftops, a cloaked figure hurrying past. Here there were ruins, and buildings built atop ruins, and makeshift tents in the places that were clear, and the scent of unfamiliar food filled the air thick and sweet, and then suddenly there was a small figure before them; a fox-faced halfling girl in a twilight robe.

"Don't try anything with me and I won't try anything with you," she said, her voice barely raised above a whisper. "That's how it goes here. You a rogue? And you..." The halfling girl smirked as she ran quick eyes over Tzugakk. "You look like you need all the help you can get. You two want something to eat? Somewhere to sleep? I can show you."

"Why?"

The halfling girl grinned at Nala. "Because. Far-follow if you're wary—or canny. I'll show you the trick to this place."

Nala and Tzugakk became aware of others as they made their way through the streets and tent villages of the sprawl, dozens, hundreds, and yet there was a comfortable feeling here, a familiar feeling. The halfling girl guided them through it all, first showing them where to get food—pigogs and land lizards and more were hunted in the dry sewers below the sprawl, their trophies sold and their meat cooked.

"I've been here three years," said the halfling girl, talking through a mouthful of greasy meat as she walked, Nala and Tzugakk similarly occupied. "So let me tell you rule one: it's all about the merits. You got merits you can do whatever, but first you gotta earn 'em, right? Takes a lot of craft merits to buy anything useful, so you're always gonna find something to eat around here. Get a few for cooking, see? But you can't trade in food, so it just goes wasting 'less there's someone around to eat it."

"Ah!" Tzugakk said. "I see! Not hunting for meat, hunting for merits. Not cooking for food, cooking for merits."

"You're sharper than you look, Gakky. Merits come first, just remember that and you'll get this place figured out. Lot of folks around here get by on the small stuff, taking the long easy road to buying out—or for some of 'em, they prefer it here. Safer than out in the real world, that's for sure. You can call safehold shards a curse but at least here you get chances."

"Do you get guide merits?" Tzugakk asked. The halfling girl laughed.

"Nah. Just paying back, y'know? Here, how's this place? Good enough?"

It was a large stone building, four storeys tall, solid despite its obvious age. Stone stairs and balconies led to dozens of doors, most of which had small bright marks on them.

"That there means it's claimed," said the halfling girl, jerking her thumb at one of the marks—it resembled a stylised pinwheel. "So just find a door that ain't got anything on it. Mark it, and no one can come in without you wanting 'em to. Pick good, because once you choose it takes a boatload of merits to change. Okay? Got questions?"

"No, I don't. Thank you!" said Tzugakk, as Nala shook her head.

"Okay. Gonna leave you two here then, got errands to run. Need anything around this place, just ask for Kit." Kit flashed them a grin. "I'm known."

There weren't any free apartments on the ground floor, but the door at the far end of the second storey was unmarked. Inside, the dull glow of a cheap crystal provided light, sleeping mats were piled in a corner, and there was a wooden cabinet against one wall. Aside from these things, and an immense quantity of dust, the room was empty.

"Not everyone here is bad," Tzugakk said, as he began dragging the sleeping mats out. "Not everything here is terrible. Some see this place as an escape!"

"No."

Tzugakk stopped, looking at Nala. She was gazing up at the light crystal.

"This place is better than what faced us before," Nala continued, still gazing at the light. "But we did not choose to come here. Don't forget this, Tzugakk."

"Nala—"

"Do not forget this. You are safe in this room, no one can enter unless we allow them to. Wait here."

"Wait for what?"

Nala put the hood of her cloak up over her head and turned towards the door.

"For my return."

Bright Battle Academy was a different place at night. Some streets were lit by the ghost glow of spirit orbs, others by long-burning lanterns, still others by nothing so immediately identifiable. The sky above was dark and clear, stars shining down in their thousands, the moon a dominating presence, pale blue and cut through with black. In places the rooftops were flat and close together, wide boards laid down to make movement easier for those of a certain persuasion, in others there were narrow alleys and doorways to hide in, small places offering temporary sanctuary from those who claimed the night as their own.

Then there was the elven quarter, Fauxgreen, the streets many and winding beneath strings of coloured firefly lights. Here there were fewer places to hide, amidst the great trees shaped into houses and shops, upon the broad commons of lush grass and sparkling streams, within the veritable forests of shaped trees that formed large dormitories, many lights burning within; elves enjoyed the night.

Further still was Everglim, home to neatly paved streets and pleasant wooden houses in the Nimbian style; tall, steep roofs of interlocking shingles, no doubt brightly coloured. Here there were herb gardens and workshops, empty at this hour, silent, yet still near-thrumming with potential.

This was a place of deep magic, and it made Nala's scalp itch.

Still, she took the time to locate the cottages, scattered among gardens and greenhouses, and she found the one with a faintly glowing heart sigil upon the door, and she marked its location in her mind.

This was not her intended destination, however, merely a diversion. Nala made her way through battle quarter, the streets straight and long, the buildings square and dull, the arenas open and many, walking and walking and walking until she found her way truly blocked.

For a long time she stared up at the outer wall of Bright Battle Academy. It was taller than any wall she'd seen in her life. Even to see to the top she had to stand back, not just a few paces but near half a street. It was smooth, too, the huge blocks of stone it was formed of offering few handholds.

Nala walked on, following the wall, ignoring the flashes of darkness-within-darkness she glimpsed as she went, but there were no weaknesses, no gates...

And yet here was a place where the wall crumbled, here was a place where tough dark roots forced their existence into the tiniest of cracks, and Nala silently thanked them as she climbed, upwards and upwards and upwards, nothing in her mind but the next handhold, the next step, until she found herself with no next handhold, no next step, just blank wall stretching up above and no choice but to climb all the way back down...

So she did. Again she followed the wall, on and on and on, the moon her companion, the stars her allies, until she found a place where the tough dark roots were winning their war of survival, where a great vertical crack split the wall enough for Nala to wedge herself into, to use as she climbed, up and up and up until her arms ached and her breathing came hard, and still further up, and up, and there was the final handhold, the final step, the top of the wall, and she reached up to take hold—

Nala's hand slipped. No; it slid. She gritted her teeth, anchored herself firmly, and tried again.

This time there was no doubt, no other explanation; the wall did not end where it ended. It kept going, an invisible barrier extending above, how far Nala did not know. Perhaps all the way to the stars.

For a time she stayed there, at the top of the wall that was not its end, then she found a good foothold, and another, and she half-pulled and half-pushed herself up so that at least her eyes were above the top of the wall, so that at least she could see what was beyond...

But there was only the dark night sky. Only stars.

The climb down took longer than the climb up. By the time Nala stood upon the ground again she could barely feel her arms and her legs were numb from exhaustion.

Still she walked on. Still she followed the wall. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, focused upon this barrier, this hateful obstacle keeping her from freedom, if only the wall wasn't there, if only there was a way over it, under it, through it, if only it would end—

The wall ended.

Just like that.

No sloping off, no gradual crumbling; here the wall was, there the wall wasn't.

Nala didn't laugh at what greeted her, beyond the wall's end. She had never laughed in her life, not once. Now didn't seem a particularly good time to start.

Instead she just stared.

And stared.

And, eventually, sat.

So the dawn found her, sitting on the grass near the beach they called waveless, because there was nothing to cause waves, no surf, no ocean; the sand simply dropped off into nothing.

Bright Battle Academy was found on Bright Battle Island, a place that was unique.

The only flying island in all the world...

ns 172.69.7.149da2

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