Act 1 - Arc 1 - Chapter 1

In what only until just recently been a tranquil garden brimming with life, a piece of broken masonry lay crumbled on a flower bed. A small, maroon rose peeked out from underneath the stone, its stem crushed and ruined but its life not yet extinguished. On the opposite side of the shattered rock lay another crushed life: an entire human body reduced to mush and barely visible beneath what mere minutes ago was the manse’s curved retaining wall. A puddle of blood the same color as the dark rose oozed from the soldier’s body to pool at a pair of brand new combat boots that had only seen their first day of use this morning.

Foil, the boy wearing the boots, was cowering. Captain Foil Adromedus, leader of the rookie Keyseeker team named the “Calico Rogues”, was cowering behind what remained of the retaining wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. He did not even notice the blood soaking through his boots as he trembled from head to toe. Foil tried to steady his breathing, but continued to gasp for air every few seconds. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. He still wore his uniform: loose black fabric, to denote his role in the vanguard units, underneath a flowing red half-cape, to denote his rank as Captain, both embroidered with orange swirls, to denote his placement as a “Blessed” fighter. He also wore several pieces of metal armor over his shoulders and waist, but their presence was more decorative than functional. He had had a sword, but lost it in the initial melee.

Foil’s normally distinctive pale and fluffy blond hair was stuck to his head, matted with blood and gore. His emerald eyes were bright with fear and glistening with moisture. He had not started crying, yet, but the act was close at hand. His mind had not shut down, however, and was rapidly trying to process his situation. Before he could come to a conclusion, or decide what to do, he heard the sounds of metallic footsteps as several soldiers, spears outstretched before them, entered the garden. They walked softly, with deliberate care not to alert Foil. It didn’t matter to him; these soldiers were clearly not the allies he had left behind and were likely hunting him specifically. His hunch was correct, as the front soldier, wearing heavy plate armor embossed with complicated runes, gestured to his three subordinates and the group fanned out to surround the boy.

From the soldiers’ perspective, Foil appeared no more threatening than a baby deer. The boy was lean but wiry, unarmed, and small of stature. The leader of this Hunter squad took his job seriously, but the three other soldiers began to relax when they saw how mentally frail this Blessed had become. As the Hunters prepared ranged weapons, namely crossbows with bolts dipped in paralyzing toxins, Foil lifted his head to gaze at his would-be killers with mute acceptance. In his heart, he had accepted the truth of the matter: he was not a hero. It was a mistake to think he could ever become one, and it was best for everyone in his life if he were killed in battle. Cassian, he thought, could take over as Captain, and do a far better job. Or Lance, if he ever showed back up. Foil’s lips turned upwards in a slight smile at the thought.

Foil closed his eyes, but rather than hearing the twang of several crossbows firing in unison he instead felt the ground rumble as if something extraordinarily large was being pummeled. Several seconds later (though to Foil in his final moments it felt like hours) the final piece of the rock wall Foil had been hiding behind exploded outwards, showering the boy with dust and flinging jagged stones into the approaching killers. The men cried out in shock and irritation, and two fired into the chaos blind. One of the bolts had been aimed true, but a large hand swatted the missile out of the air. Foil gazed up in amazement as Cassian Stormvale stood his ground between Foil and the Hunters. The tall, olive-skinned man wasted no time sprinting towards his blinded foes. He left the leader for last, dodging past an errant spearhead before slamming two of the lesser Hunters’ heads together and dropping the third with a deliberately nonlethal hook to the chin.

But in his haste he had left his left side unguarded, and the Hunter leader again stabbed forward with his spear, aiming to drive the three-pronged weapon through Cassian’s throat. Cassian deftly leapt to the side, but the spear managed to slice into his cheek as the center point pierced his ear. The Hunter smiled with glee under his helmet; the poison on the spear alone meant victory with enough time. Before his smile could fade, however, Cassian seemed to distort from behind the spear to past its guard, directly in front of the Hunter. The dust cloud changed shape with the distortion, filling the space he had left behind and opening behind him in a shape that could only be explained by Cassian having initially dodged the spear completely by moving forward. Yet Cassian’s face still bore the scars of having dodged left. There was no more time for consideration: Cassian’s fist took the remaining Hunter in the throat, cracking the metal armor and suffocating the leader.

Retching, gasping, the leader dropped his spear to rip his broken helmet off. He raised his eyes in disbelief to see, only for a moment, Cassian swinging with his other fist upward into his chin. Then he saw nothing but blackness. The Hunters defeated, Cassian briefly surveyed his work as Foil surveyed his lieutenant. In addition to his height and complexion, Cassian was most notable for his broad shoulders and cloudy gray eyes. If not rippling with muscle, the man had a powerful presence surpassed only by his martial talents. Cassian was also the only other member of Foil’s squad that actually wore the uniform given to them by the Arcane Collegium: a loose black undershirt and pants, to again denote Cassian’s role in the vanguard attack, and a tighter green wrap to denote his rank as lieutenant. Only the Captain of each squad was expected to reveal their Blessed talents, so Cassian wore only the green and black required of him by the Arkanite military. His matte black hair was normally cropped quite short, but the events of the last few days had left some unrestrained tufts fluttering in the wind.

Satisfied that the Hunters were out of commission for at least the immediate future, Cassian turned to look down at his Captain. Cassian had been up to this point Foil’s most loyal squadmember, and even now took the monumental effort to keep the disdain out of his voice.

“Captain,” he announced. “The others are waiting. Let us return to the front lines.”

Cassain spoke as flatly as possible, putting neither anger nor authority into his speech. Foil was, after all, technically his superior. Nothing mattered more to Cassian than upholding the order of his world and fulfilling his duty, even if it meant reporting and submitting to someone far less capable than himself. He pointedly did not mention the fact that Foil had not raised a hand to defend himself or assist Cassian in taking down the Hunter squad. It was not his place.

Foil, for his part, said nothing. Eventually, though, he met Cassian’s gaze with something slightly more than dull resignation, and nodded slowly. Cassian chewed the inside of his mouth, the only outward sign of his angst. He let his shoulders slump before crouching down in front of Foil.

“Captain,” he said again, with more emotion this time. Foil met his gaze, waveringly. “You know as well as I do that this battle is not yet won. The others require your presence, if not your strength.”

Foil considered this, briefly, before mentally discarding it. Cassian was lying, of course. They both knew it. Everyone else in the Calico Rogues hated him, aside from Cynthia and perhaps Perrin. The only reason they hadn’t betrayed and killed Foil themselves was because of Cassian’s misguided sense of duty and his hardened fists. But Cassian had to pretend it was true anyway, for posterity. Foil nodded again, and allowed Cassian to pull him to his feet. It was at this point that he began to feel the damp cold of his blood-soaked boots, and he grimaced as he stood. Cassian mistook the expression for pain, and quickly scanned his captain for wounds. Finding none, he drew himself up once again.

He placed a hand on Foil’s armored shoulder before continuing. “I will go on ahead, if you need…time,” he said, more gently than before. “But I will tell the rest of the team that you will be close behind.”

The implication was clear: Foil was expected to show himself, now that he had been found and rescued. If he stayed hiding, he would be branded a deserter and stripped of his rank. In extreme cases he could even be branded a traitor and given a death sentence. Foil nodded a third time, and Cassian sighed. With a sharp salute, the large man leapt through the wall he had punched through and disappeared. Foil considered his options again, though his mind had already been made up. Foil began striding with faux confidence across the garden, away from where Cassian had indicated. As he reached the ruined hedges that had once separated the garden of the large manse from the rest of the small town they had been sent in to defend, Foil could see the main road into the central plaza. To his right, however, was the dense forest from which he and the rest of the vanguard had launched their counterattack into the town.

Foil glanced behind furtively, then left, then right. With no one around and the sounds of battle distant, Foil made his choice. He turned right and sprinted towards the tree cover. Away from the fight. Away from his squad. Away from his duty.

Cassian, perched with Frayle on a nearby rooftop, sighed again. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger in a habitual gesture, then looked to his squadmate. Frayle’s mouth was drawn into a tight frown, his red irises locked on Foil’s fleeing figure. He had a longbow slung across his shoulder, and considered drawing it, but the distance and a lingering hesitation prevented him from doing so. He finally broke his watchful trance and met Cassian’s eyes. In words heard by nobody else they discussed what to tell the squad. At Cassian’s insistence, and to Frayle’s visible irritation, they decided to say nothing. When the treachery was discovered, they could make their case. But for now, the two returned to the battle to assist the rest of their squad.