“Veni, vidi, vici.”

-Julius Caesar

....

"How many of them are there?" I winced as the Baron bellowed, fists cracking the table of the make-shift war room. Scattered papers and documents thrown to the floor, as a map of the town was stretched overtop. "Numbers! Now!"

"Five ships, Sir!" The Peace Keeper answered, replacing another, who was already rushing out of the room with the previous orders. He pointed on the map, breathing erratic. "Other than that, we don't have a count yet. Several hundred [Soldier] Class, at best guess."

"How in all the fucking storms did five ships make it here without warning?"

"A [Scout] just came in from one of the outposts just a moment ago. They've reportedly burned two trader vessels on the way south, and they blasted several of the [Scout] towers before anyone could send warning."

"Fuck!" The table collapsed under another blow. "Send the fucking crows out. Warn everyone."

"Everyone-"

"Fucking everyone! The other territories, the Kingdom, your fucking ma's farm! Neriah, go with him! See it done!"

"Sir!" The [Scribe] bowed, following after the [Guard] who sprinted off, eyes wide.

The Baron turned back to the remainder, town leaders wiping sweat of their brows with clear unease.

"The docks." He growled. "You passed them, do you think we stop them there?"

"We've the numbers. With the Fyrd hopefuls, it's plausible we could hold them-"

"Hold them? We can't hold them, I'm asking if we can fucking burn them." The Baron grunted as two attendants slung plate armor over his shoulders. "The cliffs are the only natural defense we can count on. How many of our men are down there?"

"Sir, we had a half score stationed, and another of that number went to reinforce when the bells began."

"Then they're already dead. Hammer." He commanded, as two [Guard] rushed the massive weapon into his hands. He planted it onto the ground with an impact that crushed stone. "I want everyone in the fort. If they breach the town, they'll have a foothold."

"Sir, if we burn the docks, the trade-" A nervous town leader's voice died on their lips, as the Baron's stare fixed itself upon him.

"Do you want gold, or do you want to fucking live?"

The man cowered under the pressure that filled the room.

"On me." The Baron didn't wait for an answer, as the final strap for his plate fit into place. Shoulder pieces snuggly fit, as he began to march. "I want every person who can fight in the main courtyard. We stop them before they get into the town, or we're finished."

I followed after, trailing at the half-jog of a pace that was set. The halls were already swarming with activity. [Guard] Class, [Hunter] Class, [Archer] Class, rushing out, weapons in hand as they struggled with leather and chainmail. Down the steps, more and more filtered through. All of them rushing into improvised ranks, looking ahead as the Baron leapt down from the wall, landing with two craters beneath his boots.

"Form up!" He commanded. "We're rushing the docks!" He shouted. "Open the gates for the townfolk to take shelter, I want ten [Archer] Class on the walls! [Healer] and [Mage] of any kind are to remain in the fort!"

I stopped, still halfway down the steps, as his stare passed me by. Several others among the crowd stepped back, as a hush fell, waiting for further instruction.

The ringing of bells was mingling with distant screams, now. Shouts and explosions, off in the distance. Over the walls, I could see smoke.

Inside the fort, though, was almost total silence. Rattled and nervous faces, crooked helms, and ragged breathing.

"Thought I'd have a few more years until my chance to go back to war would arrive." The Baron announced. "But if the Empire's so ready to die, we'll give them what they want."

A muffled cheer rose at that, dwarfed by the groaning of the gates, as the thick wooden doors opened behind him. Even only partly pulled back, already there were people rushing in. [Worker] and [Trader] Class, with all manner of others mingled among them. Crying children, gaunt-faced women, men clinging to blood-stained wounds.

At the sight of them, the Baron's grimace tightened. He gave me another look, before spitting on the ground, and grinding it beneath his boot.

The scars on his face stretched and grew taut, shades of blood rushing beneath his skin.

"You all came to fight for the Kingdom, so you can count yourselves lucky! Today's the day!" He raised his hammer in one hand, as it glowed with power. All around the fort, a pale aura began to lift, blanketing out along the dirt and stone, rolling up boots and armor. "When you head down South, you'll have some stories to tell, eh?"

A cry rose in response, weapons lifting to join his.

"We go!" The Baron shouted loud. "To battle!"

"To battle!" The cheer erupted, as the Baron turned and headed for the gate. Even as he moved, his aura magnified. Already, I felt stronger. As if exhaustion and fear were being lifted off my shoulders, and I could see the effects were still expanding. Coating the town, as it carried further. Those nervous stragglers in the back of the squad straightening out, paces falling into rhythm as they followed.

Then, they were out of reach.

The feeling of fearless power slipped away, and was replaced with terror and organized panic. The scene of men rushing barrels of arrows into place along the wall, and several [Healer] Class running down to meet the cries of pain, just now stumbling into the fort. Overhead, I heard the cawing of birds, wings taking flight at launching out towards destinations unknown, small scrolled messages tied tightly to their legs.

From below, many of the towns people looked about with fear, some of them stopped at the sight of me.

"Shit." I muttered, retreating up the steps, and to take a place along the wall, out of the public's view. The side glances from the [Archer] Class were little better, but at least most of them knew who I was.

Down the slope below, the Baron's force had already disappeared, hidden among the buildings that bordered the main road to the fort. Distantly, I could see more fires were rising, almost all of which seemed to be centered along the docks.

There, tall masts of red sails seemed to teeter, just barely in view beside the cliffs.

"Was this what you were trying to tell me, Gregory?" I gritted my teeth, as more and more people fled towards the relative safety of the fort. "That I was royally fucked?"

Picking up a spare bow, I gave it an experimental draw, confirming I was just barely strong enough to do so. I was a terrible shot, but I'd been trained on the basics, back when I was in the castle. Ironic as that was.

Nocking an arrow, as the others atop the wall had, I waited.

Waited and wondered how this would all work out.

....

"John! Gods mercy, there you are!" Neriah's voice woke me from my daze atop the wall, rushing towards me with a swishing of his formal garb. "Come with me! Quickly!"

The [Scribe] all but latched onto my arm and began dragging me, as he quickly pivoted.

"The likes of us need no part in battle." He whispered as he pulled me back towards the inner buildings of the fort. "Come, help me gather what we can. If the fort is invaded, we must be certain we save what we can."

It was a flimsy excuse at best, and I knew that. Morally, I should have resisted. Yet, as much as it pained me to admit it, the thought of taking shelter instead of dying in combat was difficult to overcome. While the battle at the docks wasn't visible from the wall, I had a growing sense that the Baron's forces were not going to be the victors. Already, several [Guard] had stumbled back up towards the fort, helped by civilians. Each one had been more wounded than the previous.

Things were not looking good.

So, it was only a moment later that we were back within the familiar study rooms, doors shut tightly as Neriah began kicking the carpet away and wrenching at a particular piece of stone tile. There, a small crawl space was revealed, and he began un-ceremonially throwing books into it.

"If there's a fire, we will lose everything! This is the best we can do!" Neriah explained, as he desperately leafed through the shelves, picking select clumps of texts by the arm-load, to drop below. "Quickly now, help me!"The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I did, though I had no true guidance on what he was specifically hoping to save. Sweeping the shelves, I began throwing books below, trying not to cringe at the rough impacts many were receiving. Pages splayed out in the dirt, buried under heavy bindings. Beside me, the old man was all but gasping for air, as he worked feverishly.

We were interrupted by a heavy explosion, which rocked the fort outside.

Shouts were echoing through the halls beyond the door.

"Close the gates!" A cry rang out. "Close them!"

"Gods, they're already here." Neriah coughed, dropping one more armful into the pile below, before dragging the stone back into place. "There is so much more I must do." He opened the door, looking both ways before rushing out into the fort.

I made to follow after him, before stopping.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Hide? Fight?

Neither of those sounded like good ideas.

Servants rushed the halls, ushering townsfolk into rooms as they shut the doors behind them. Chances were good the fort was about to directly come under attack.

The fighting that had been in the distance could now be easily heard. Even through the thick walls, rumbles of tremendous impacts were shaking through, throwing dust off the ceiling.

"We've got wounded! Wounded!" From the main hall, I could hear people were shouting out for help. "Fighting has passed the docks! They're in the town!"

Perhaps it was guilt, but I soon found the bow and arrow I'd accidently stolen from the wall top in hand, rushing back towards the gate. As I took to the steps, heading up towards the [Archer] Class who were already loosing at targets below, I was just in time to see one of the few towers the fort possessed explode.

Almost like a gattling gun, heavy bolts ripped through the stone, cutting it to pieces that collapsed almost immediately.

A man screamed, as he plummeted down below, crushed as the rest of the material buried him.

Ducking down, several more sprayed through the wall, sending shrapnel about- before the attacks abruptly stopped. One of the [Archer] Class on the wall shouted something, repositioning to return fire.

Then, the attacks returned. He too, was hit. Arrow straight through his chest, the man tumbled down the steps towards me, already dead by the time he slid to a stop.

Rushing over him, I promptly changed my course, ducking below the outcropping embrasures of the wall as I made my way towards where the wall top met the second floor of the fort. There was no way I was going to get involved in this, I decided. Not if [Archery] Skills could rip through solid rock. I'd keep my head down and wait for the next lull.

As I made my way, the remaining [Archer] Class returned fire yet again, and I heard several screams of pain below as the wall top crew let out a ragged cheer.

They'd earned us a temporary reprieve, it seemed.

From cover, looking down below towards the front gate, I could see there were still people are trickling in. Dozens of wounded Peace Keepers were tripping over the rubble in their path as they made way into the bordering courtyards, or deeper into the fort, but the Baron wasn't among them.

"They're storming the town!" I heard a familiar voice shout, handing off a wounded companion as he turned to issue orders to several [Worker] Class by the gates. "They're killing everyone, keep those open until there's no choice!" He grabbed another wounded, dragging them inside just as an arrow took the unlucky soul in the back.

The wounded man let out a gasp of pain, before falling limp.

Pulling the man aside, I watched as Roggar set them down, rising with his fisted clenched. Rushing towards them, a [Healer] stopped short, shaking their head before hurrying to the next in need of help. I watched him, as he set his fist into the wall, teeth gnashing in anger as he looked about the fort.

It was a surprisingly human moment, from a man I despised. One that caught me by surprise.

Which was unfortunate, because almost supernaturally, he suddenly looked up and spotted me before I could think to duck away.

His expression was of pure, perfect, hatred.

Then, he started moving.

"Oh fuck." I cursed, ducking down to let [Hide Presence] take over. Quickly, I resumed my slinking along the wall at, glancing back behind me as I went.

Roggar was not someone I wanted to deal with. Perhaps I could get away from him in the confusion-

"You should watch the other side, John." The Guildmaster's warning reached my ear as a melodic whisper.

I turned to look in front of me, just in time to see the sword as it came for my throat.

....

To be honest, I wasn't the sort who was all that great in a fight.

I knew what I needed to do, of course, but the execution was always where I stumbled. Streamlining my thoughts to simply go ahead and complete the actions, without worrying about cluttering my mind up with the ever-expanding possibilities of what my opponent might react with.

There's a certain perspective that a person needs to hone, in order to really thrive in combat. The people who do, I've found, tend to be the sort who are born into it. Those folks, who have years upon years of experience set into their very bones. Improving their abilities until even their worst performance would still rival my best.

What's worse, is that almost every fight I'd ever been in up until this... well, each of them had been clumsy.

Battlefields, wolf attacks... there's not a lot to learn about the finer details, and practicing on one's own isn't a real replacement for true experience. If the gloves come off, truth be told, there's very little order to the chaos and there's a definite limit to human reaction time. What a person can both see and avoid isn't all that much. Be it a punch, or a kick, or a deadly instrument of gleaming steel: fighting is more about running on muscle memory than actually "seeing" anything and making a logical decision on what to do about it.

But, perhaps my perspective was still grounded in another world's logic.

Still stuck, or trapped, considering the premise of a fight from the position of an Earthling: from basic human potential, without Attributes. Without an additional layer of enhancement, settled on top of the basic biology and physics already in play.

Because, I found then, in that instant: there was a huge difference.

I could see it.

The sword coming for me, as it left its sheath. As it swung in, up at a diagonal, from Roggar's hip to his chest.

I watched in horror as I saw that certain kill coming for me. Blade of glowing metal, about to disembowel me-

And then I saw my own body react.

I'm not sure if it was Dexterity. I'm not sure if it was Intelligence and Wisdom, mixed up in the blender with all the rest: but when Roggar's attack came for me, I moved.

My left hand swept out, dagger moving in unison with a back step. Not perfect, but enough not to die.

There was a flash of blades, and-

The second strike was already coming back around.

I could see.

See that I was losing.

Terror and speed, desperate backpedaling, gasps of pain, and anger.

Steel on steel, I watched as the edges of our weapons sunk into one another. As if they were biting one another, cutting in to dig grooves on the metal as the impacts make themselves known. My dagger was slapped aside, returning to block just in time to be swapped away again, as I wished so badly I had a sword. Or at least something with more weight and reach to it.

My arm felt shaken to the bone.

There was no skill or finesse in my defense, and there wasn't any in Roggar's attacks, either.

He was beating me into submission.

"You." Roggar growled, as he stepped into the next blow, pinning me against the battlement, pushing me back until I was barely holding his sword away from my neck. Muscles screaming, I saw my dagger begin to flex as he pressed harder. "It's your fault!"

Both hands on my weapon, and it still wasn't enough to resist the difference in Strength.

"Look at it!" He spit on me, shifting forms to lay a heavy hand into my face, sprawling me onto the edge of the battlement. Gripping my hair, he slammed me, chin down onto the stone, forcing me to see. "LOOK AT IT!"

The town was aflame.

I could see the remaining pieces of battle, playing out. The shouts and screams were unmistakable, as was the clashing of metal. Down there, violence was reaching a crescendo. I could see flags and banners, flying high and the huge swathes of cloth, visible by the docks. Even with the height of the cliffs and the rising flames in their way: teetering from the masts of those giant ships.

Golden and black fabric bearing that horrible crown.

The Empire.

"They're here because of YOU!" Roggar shouted, as he pushed me, grinding my cheek into the stone. "All because we didn't kill you when we had the chance."

With a cold chill, I felt his body shifting, metal raking up against the stone to press against the nape of my neck.

He was going to murder me.

Head in a sack.

Head on a pike.

Time slowed.

Nothing in my arsenal was going to be able to kill him outright. Even if I poured all of my mana out in a single spell, chances were good that he might still survive long enough to sever my head from my neck.

But panic was being held in check by a half-formed, desperate, plan.

I knew the dagger was on the ground at our feet. I could feel my boot stepping on it, the grip under my heel.

My hands were empty. Both of them.

I was only going to get one shot at this.

Whipping my arms up and back, I let fire roar. With almost no concern for my mana reserves at all, I aimed for where I assumed Roggar's face to be, as I simultaneously wrenched myself hard to the side, smashing my chin into the divot of the parapet, then rolling backwards.

Roggar screamed, as his sword caught on the stone instead of my flesh and bone. The long blade was blocked, cutting slightly in against my skin and shirt, but no deeper, as I dove for my dagger, gripping it to stab hard into his leg- then his belly- then his neck.

I felt a cut against my side, his sword biting into my armor, as he threw me to the side, drawing his sword back like a saw.

But the damage was done.

[Dexterity + 1]

I was rewarded.

Scrambling, I pushed farther back, as he came for me again with a downward swing, then another, then another.

Half falling, half skidding along the stone, I pushed back, as blood gushed from his wounds, and his attacks slowed. I didn't wait for him, though. As I finally found my balance enough to get on my feet properly, I dived for the nearest stairs, taking them three steps at a time towards the adjoining courtyard.

Ignoring his guttural croak of a shout, I kept moving, bloody dagger in hand as I rushed for the kitchen. The confusion all about the fort helped, somewhat, but people squawked in surprise as I ran past.

They didn't matter, though.

Neither did Roggar.

Not anymore.

All that really mattered was, even with all that was happening, there was more than a decent chance other Peace Keepers had seen me on the wall, fighting Roggar. And there was a real possibility they'd be coming for me, any moment.

I needed to flee.

Everything was lost at this point. Without the Baron, it wasn't just Roggar who was going to try and kill me. I needed to get to my room. My bag, everything I'd gathered up until this point: I'd go out the window from there, I'd take the hit and roll down the embankment. Then, make for the hunting trail-

"Got blood on your blade." Waiting in the window, the Guildmaster lounged with a happy smile. "I like that."

I froze, contents of my desk half swept into my bag, as I stared at her.

"That was a nice move, blinding him with fire. Got you out of a tricky spot." She clicked her tongue. "But it was nothing beside the knifework. Three good hits..." She moved, as if counted them down on her fingers. "You're quite the natural."

"What do you want?" I whispered, eyeing her warily. "Just tell me."

"I want a lot of things." She answered, slinking down into the room with a supernatural grace. "But, what will you do now, John?"

"I'm leaving. I don't have a choice." I felt my shoulders shaking, lungs filling and emptying at an unsteady pace. I wanted to check the wound on my side, but I also didn't want to take my eyes off of her for an instant. She was already too close to me for comfort.

Then, she was gone.

"Are you now?" I heard her chuckle, voice behind me, as I felt fingers run gently along the cut on my neck. "No, I don't think you're leaving quite yet."

"Are you going to stop me?" I asked, hand adjusting on my dagger's grip, turning to try and get her back in my sight. I knew I didn't stand a chance, but I wasn't going to die without trying.

"Me?" Much to my surprise, I locked eyes with her once again. Shifting colors and a wry grin, waiting patiently. "No." Slowly, she shook her head, before nodding towards the doorway. "It's not me you need to worry about."

I turned towards the sound of footsteps.

Methodical, heavy, they made their way closer, until they stopped. Fixed in place, to stare me down. With anger, with hatred:

There, Solas stood in the doorway, her sword drawn.

We looked at one another.

I, standing very still, covered in blood that wasn't my own.

Her, quite the opposite.

With dozens of cuts and still-forming bruises covered her face and arms, I could see that her armor was in tatters. The straps and bindings were barely holding together as her shoulders shifted with deep, horrible, breaths of rage. Working her lungs further, and further, as her eyes flared with wild anger.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" She screamed.

I screamed, too.

Although, that was mostly because she'd stabbed me on my way out the window.