The Neonate: 1

The sun couldn’t have set any quicker?

I grabbed my stuff, sword, makeshift armor, and supply pack. Affixing the armor took awhile like always, but I’d gotten used to that. Anything which could take an arrow without instantly killing me would work, and I’d managed to get this at decent quality for only a few Trians. I’d had to do a bit of work to get it to fit me perfectly, but it was well worth it. Tanned brown leather, held together by various straps to make it up, with a crest I didn’t recognize that I’d had to cover up. I didn’t want anyone I was interacting with to think I was associated with whichever age old kingdom the crest belonged, so I’d covered it with another layer of leather stitched over. I could get someone to remove it in a more permanent fashion later, but for now, the patch job wouldn’t be the most visible in the dark anyhow. At worst, I’d be called cheap, and I’d been called worse.

I made sure my sword was strapped firmly to my side and was in an optimal position in my scabbard. A longsword, made from steel of good quality. It was probably the most valuable thing I owned, with it not being bought by me, but instead being a coming of age gift from a friend of mine, before he’d lost his life out west. It had symbols carved on it, but those hadn’t come with it naturally. The scabbard was red and gold, incredibly regal for what amounted to a very simple weapon. I’d practiced extensively with it, and had gotten a pretty good feel for how to use it with my training.

My supply bag, as my third item of choice to bring on this newly embraced night excursion, was an essential part. Light out of necessity, it contained basic first aid supplies, a whetstone in case I got stranded, with some preservable food and a waterskin serving a similar purpose. A small torch was strapped to the side, and a small bottle of oil tucked in front pouch served as a way to light it in a dire circumstance. That was the best I had in terms of supplies, money was pretty tight at the moment all things considered. I was too close to not meeting ends meet to consider splurging on supplies I could need, but might not. So I stuck with what I had. I grabbed my key from the small table near the front entrance of the place I was staying, checked to be sure I hadn’t left anything too out of place, and exited the front door into the street. I locked the door behind me, and made my way out.

Immediately, I saw the faint plumes of smoke which indicated where I would be going. The warzone. A part of me was taken aback at how quickly the fighting had begun again. Every nightfall, war took to the streets, and it was slowly spreading. This was just the first time I’d be apart of it. I’d had to prepare, after all, the enemies had magi, and I wasn’t keen on rushing into a situation where I might be running into a spell slinger without proper measures. I didn’t want to become another one of those corpses they’d find in the aftermath, trying to figure out what sort of magic did the deed, treating the corpse in question with less dignity then a common drunk trying to get even the slightest insight into what sort of force the enemy had brought to bear. I shuddered at the thought, because sometimes, the victims would still be alive.

I rounded the bend, down a silent and dark street. My sword’s faint glow along with distant lights giving me all I needed to guide myself. I’d also walked the street during the day, getting dangerously close to the border zone to map out the route I’d be taking tonight, and that was paying off. If it weren’t for the poor state of the streets I’d likely be able to walk the entire way with my eyes closed, I was…particularly meticulous with that sort of thing, in all honesty. But I couldn’t waste time, with the smoke and signal flares now rising into the distance, I broke into a jog.

The battles had been raging on for about a month and a half now. A crime group, formerly known for some simple shakedowns, highway robbery and extortion outside the city and in some of the worse off areas, now had amassed into an army. Nothing compared to the legions stationed here, but where this group, calling themselves Noctis, had differed from an army of thugs and bruisers, was their seeming abundance of magi. Of all five types, too. Their demands, after making an initial push in the dead of night, was for the Kingdom’s forces to evacuate the city and for the current leadership to be replaced by them in the court. The leadership, led by Lord Salazar, promptly refused, and responded with equal force, getting pushed back, and repeating the cycle. After about a week of it, the two sides had made an unofficial agreement. Battle would take place at night only, and the rest of the city wouldn’t be struck by anything unless the battle pushed there. No one had broken this silent accord, mostly because no one wanted to see what the other side would try and pull if they did. Greater forces could be requisitioned from the Kingdom, and the magi of Noctis could surely pull some sort of dirty trick that the Kingdom didn’t want to see occur. The battle had slowed, however Noctis was making progress. This was the only reason I’d elected to do this late night excursion, to join the fight. We were losing. And a loss here, could have terrible consequences for a whole lot of people living here, including people who definitely didn’t deserve it. Noctis had very few qualms about testing magic on people, robbing them, or being tyrants. The rumors about what had happened to some people caught in the areas they’d taken was chilling, and at the same time, provoked anger in me.

“Hey, kid!”

The loud, but not quite commanding voice from behind me made me stop in my tracks and cut off my internal thoughts. I turned, taking a deep breath as the recognizable shape of a Kingdom guard approached me, emblem and colors on full display even in the faint light. He was an elf, a taller frame, pointed ears. I couldn’t tell what type, maybe a forest elf, but I couldn’t be sure off of the sparing looks I got of him in the dark. He got to a better speaking distance before addressing me again.

“What are you doing out so late? You’re heading towards a warzone you know!” He had annoyance in his tone, and it sounded like this wasn’t the first time he’d been forced or felt compelled to say that tonight.

I nodded with confidence. “I know that sir. I’d like to help.”

The man sighed, like it hadn’t been the first time he’d heard that response tonight “Don’t you all. I’m not allowed to say anything to dissuade you, but its dangerous. If you still want to go, we need some people watching the eastern roads, we think they’ll try to punch through our line there, and we could use some heads up if they do, if not someone to hold that line until backup arrives.”

I thought about it, before giving him a second, and more curt nod. “I can do that. I’ll give those bastards hell if they come for that area.” I said with conviction in my tone, hard and firm.

He definitely had heard that one tonight. “Right. Thank you for your service-and before you go-” he fished a small pad of paper from his belt, and a field quill. “Can I have your name? Supposed to collect what I can if you end up…beyond recognition to your friends and family. Dark, but its the reality” he sounded somber as he said that. How many nights had he been doing this?

Not dwelling on it for too long, I replied “Acuzio Velari. I live down on Allician street, the house with the blue roof.” more information then he’d asked for, but if it was to identify people…

“Got it. Godspeed Mr. Velari, and try not to die out there. I’m really sick of seeing brave boys like you not come back.”

His assertion of my age gave me a twang of annoyance that I hadn’t felt in awhile, but I simply gave him a final nod, not wanting to disrupt what seemed to be a somewhat good impression with the elf “I’ll do my best” I said, giving a salute which he returned in kind, before heading off into the night, back to his station nearby which I only now was able to make out unlike at my head in the clouds state I was in before. I didn’t bother to watch the elf vanish fully into the meager light before I was off again, back at a steady jog, not running in case I’d need to save my energy for a later engagement or running back here to warn the nearest local garrison about a breach. The fact that he’d mentioned them punching through being a possibility was concerning, though with magi, anything was possible I supposed.

My thoughts dwelled on the guard calling me a boy. I knew I wasn’t particularly tall, nor was I built like some of the stronger royal forces I’d seen moving to the battleground but a few days ago, but I most certainly was not a boy. I was a skilled combatant, trained in swordsmanship and an incredibly potent fighter. He thought I was just going to die namelessly to a blast of flame from a stray magi or something of the like. That potential assertion made me even more annoyed, and even a bit angry, as irrational as it was. That man was a public servant doing his duty to the kingdom, but I couldn’t help but feel unnecessarily understated in capability. He didn’t know a damn thing about me, and he’d written me off!

I rounded a corner, with maybe five more minutes at my current pace I’d reach the eastern streets I would be tasked with watching for my due diligence. I was almost hoping for an engagement, for some trumped up magi to show their face, ready to walk all over him.

I was ready. That guard didn’t know one crucial fact about me when he’d made his quick assessment of my assured death in battle.

I willed my sword to glow in three areas, where it had previously been glowing in one. The three symbols which marked it obeyed my will, and did so. I kept the one under the patch at my armors chest, where the crest had been dim for now, but it was nonetheless active and ready for use.

I’d only used ones I was confident I could get to work, which were four in total, three on my blade and one on my armor, the final one hidden to steal the upper hand if need be. Each had been refined, though not on the level of the greats by any means. I hadn’t met anyone else with this skill, but I’d heard the stories. A javelin so powerful it cleaved through mountains to level castles. Armor which could reliably survive a strike from the strongest of demons. Boots which carried people across cities in seconds. The kind of thing where you wouldn’t confirm it was true, but you knew, on some level, it was possible. One of the five classifications of magic. Runic Magic, Sigilism Glyphs, it had a lot of names, but it all boiled down to one conclusion for me at this moment.

I was a magi, and I was going to prove that damn elf wrong.