“The path we walk leads to misery. There is no hope. But we must continue, for there is no other choice.”

- From “The Legend of Ansketel”

Not even five minutes after the game began, Roska spotted a figure with three flags tucked in their belt lounging on the roof of an abandoned warehouse. Hartwin, Roska, and I were working out a strategy while Gino stood off to the side, leaning against the side of a building with his eyes closed.

“Gino,” I said with as little annoyance as possible.

One eye opened, glaring at me.

“… Never mind.” It was better to just drop the issue. Gino wasn’t the type of person who’d cooperate just because I asked. Ordering him around would be pointless. He’d just ignore me or storm off.

“Roska, do you have any more information on the guy? Any ideas for a plan of attack?” I asked. She was the only one who could tell us more about the man and the surrounding terrain.

“I can. His name is Oliver, he’s a part of The Jesters of the Court, Cadius’s mercenary division.”

I nodded. Lloyd had told me about them. They operated across the land, not just here in Milon. The Jesters, as they were commonly referred to as, took on both local requests and large contracts put forth by the demigods and their governments. Lloyd had added that while they were Cadius’s mercenaries, they were also his military. If war broke out and Cadius needed soldiers, he’d order all members of the Jesters to return to Lowestoft.

As an aside, the Vagabond Spirits is the thievery, smuggling, and information division.

“Wait, I thought only Vagabonds could participate.”

“He’s technically a member of both.”

“That’s possible?” Hartwin asked.

“He’s a special case,” Roska answered.

“So, he’s strong,” I concluded.

Roska nodded. “He’s smart, quick-witted, and he’s got tons of experience.”

Just because he’s strong doesn’t mean I can’t win against him.

“What about his location. You said he was on top of a warehouse. What was the roof like?” I asked.

“Flat, lots of space. Though, it’s so old that it’s collapsed in places. I’d say you could walk a few steps at most before you’re falling through a hole in the ceiling,” she answered.

“And where is he?”

“Dead center.” She eyed me. “You can’t win in a fight against him,” she cautioned me.

“I know.” I never played fair in the first place. Fighting the ‘honorable’ way was just a pain. A fight where anything goes suited me far better. “I’ve got a few ideas already. If I keep him still for a few moments, can you immobilize him?”

“I think I can do that,” she nodded.

“And Hartwin?”

“Y-yes sir?”

“Are you good at holds?”

“Yes sir. I'm skilled with quite a few. I was never any good with a blade, so I focused mainly on grapples.”

“Then you can be the one to pin him down.”

Hartwin nodded.

“We’ll surround him. I’ll draw his attention and stun him, Roska will bind him, and then Hartwin will hold him down. Sound good?”

“Yes.”

“It does, sir!”

“Then let’s go.”

“…You’re Von, right? The new Apostle?” the man asked.

Dusty white hair stood out against the dark, discolored wood roof. I felt somewhat saddened at the sight of his tattered poncho; the stains, dirt, and grime had erased any of its original color. The maroon scarf he wore was in better shape, though it was smeared with dust.

“Yeah. Oliver, right?”

“Mhm. I’m surprised you know who I am.”

“I have a reliable source of information.”

I swirled the Anima around inside of me, letting it build up.

He rose to his feet, patting at this clothing before stretching. “There’s a lot of Vagabonds and Jesters who are curious about you. Why would Cadius pick someone who wasn’t even a Vagabond to be his Apostle? There’s no way a nobody could be a better fit than one of us. That’s the kind of things they’re saying about you.”

“And you’re one of them?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Hmph. He trusted Cadius but not his judgement? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?

I kept those thoughts to myself. Trying to argue with him would just be a waste of time and sanity.

I nodded. “Well then, I’ll have to try my best,” I said with as much feigned honesty as I could tolerate. I raised my right hand, fingers pressed together. “Let’s get started.”

Snap

The Anima within me surged forth, shaped and given form by my will.

Strictly speaking, there was no need to snap my fingers, wave my hands, or perform any other distinctive action. But I recently discovered a shortcut. Basically, instead of having to devote conscious thought to shaping the Anima, the process would become nigh-automatic if I associated it with a physical action. In this case, snapping my fingers produced sounds.

The idea had come to me when I had heard about a method of memorizing information using symbols. Lloyd had been muttering to himself during one of our evening study sessions. When I asked about it, he had said he was using playing cards to memorize the list of known demigods, their titles, and territories. It was too much. I wasn’t even going to try to study it. Lloyd’s perseverance was admirable.

Oliver reeled. He had just heard a full-volume clap of thunder, as if a bolt of lightning had struck the ground mere feet away. Of course, it was all in his head. The illusions couldn’t actually produce sound, else his eardrums would have ruptured. However, the mind is a strange thing. Like a soldier who sometimes experiences sensations from their missing arm, the mind will react to sudden stimuli as though they were real; it tricks itself into feeling pain.

I ran towards Oliver as fast as I could safely could, stepping around and leaping over pitfalls.

I cupped my hands together, brought them to my lips, and blew. A cloud of black smoke billowed forth, rapidly surrounding Oliver and the area around him. He was now blind. He was trapped, unable to leave the smoke cloud as he could no longer see where he was stepping. One wrong move and he’d fall through a missing section of the ceiling.

That used up most of my remaining Anima. I would have to save the last of it for maintaining the cloud. No more bursts of sound or other tricks.

“Good; simple but effective,” Oliver commented. He still hadn’t moved from his spot.

I stood at the edge of the cloud, only a handful of feet away from Oliver. Right about now, Roska should be approaching Oliver from the side, and Hartwin from behind.

Oliver snapped his head to the left. I nodded towards Roska.

“Hey, Oliver,” I called out, grabbing his attention.

At the same time, Roska took something out of her bag. She held one end of the rope in her left hand. At the other end was a metal ball with the same diameter as the rope. Gripping with her right hand, she swung it around overhead, building up speed.

Oliver had to be distracted at the moment Roska cast the rope. I would provide that distraction for her.

“Why are you talking when you should be fighting?” he grumbled. His eyes never stopped scanning the smoke for any signs of movement. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action the moment he was attacked.

I ignored his question. “What kind of person,” Roska loosened the grip of her right hand, letting the weight of the metal ball pull the slack through her fingers as it arced sideways through the air, “is Cadius?” I finished.

Roska expertly guided the single-weight bola with a practiced hand. The rope caught on Oliver’s legs. The weighted end pivoted, wrapping around his legs. Roska pulled back, tightening the restraint. Oliver’s legs snapped together causing him to lose his balance and topple to the ground with a gasp.

Hartwin quickly ran over to him. Before he could regain his senses, he grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back, twisting it and pulling it up towards his neck. Hartwin pressed a knee against his spine for good measure.

Oliver only struggled for only a few brief moments before he came to terms with the fact that he had been outmaneuvered. He settled down, twisting his head to face me.

“…Good coordination,” he eventually commented. “Take the flags, you’ve earned them.”

“Will do.” I snatched them up stuck them in my belt. We had three flags; only one more and we’d all be able to proceed to the second round. Looking up at the sky, I could see that we still had well over half an hour remaining.

The problem was Oliver. If he got serious about taking the flags back, I doubt we could fend him off. Even if we tied him up and left him here, I’m certain he had the training and experience necessary to escape his binds and come after us.

“Oliver,” I began, “would you like to make a deal?”

“…-s another wildcard,” Oliver sighed, muttering something under his breath. I only heard the tail end of it.

What’s all that about?

Oliver turned to face me. “It could have been worse,” he said.

“Is that a compliment?” asked Roska.

He nodded. “But that was a bit reckless. What if I had grabbed the armored Ratatoskr-”

“Hartwin,” I interjected.

Oliver glared at me. “… Hartwin and thrown him through one of the holes? What if I had known where each of the holes in the roof were and escaped the cloud of smoke? If any one thing hadn’t gone right, the rest of the plan would have fallen apart,” he told me. He was right, of course. My plots and schemes usually had a number of conditions that all had to be met or they wouldn’t work.

“Lloyd tells me the same thing practically every day,” I admitted, scratching the back of my head, a touch embarrassed.

“You know, and yet you do it anyways?” he shook his head, incredulous.

I shrugged, flashing him a capricious grin.

“Whatever. I’ll catch you later,” he turned to leave.

I waited for him to move out of earshot. “…That was a really, really bad pun.”

“I don’t think he meant for it to be one,” Roska said.

“He didn’t look like the type to make jokes. Or laugh. Did he even smile once?” Hartwin commented.

A thought struck me. “Hey, Roska. Why’d Oliver have three flags?”

“Oh, did I not mention? Higher ranked members of the Vagabonds are given more flags. Oliver is a lieutenant, so he had three flags,” she casually revealed.

I narrowed my eyes, glaring at her. “A lieutenant? You left that part out,” I said. The accusation in my words was implied. I wanted her to explain herself.

“…I just wanted to see how you handled him. If you knew he was that strong, you might not have gone after him,” she admitted shamelessly. “I know what kind of person Oliver is. It was unlikely that he’d do something dangerous. And our plan was a good one.”

“But you lied to me.”

“Yes, I did. Sorry.” It sure didn’t sound like she regretted it.

Is this going to be a problem? Maybe I should talk to her about it later.

“…Alright, fine,” I sighed. No point in arguing about it now, we were on a timer, after all.

“Sir, I don’t think she meant anything bad by it,” said Hartwin.

I scowled. She tested me, just as Oliver did. Am I going to have to prove myself to every single person I meet? I didn’t care if people thought I was weak or strong. But the tests had to stop.

I shook my head. “Whatever, let’s go get Gino and talk about our next move.”

The scents of warm foods, laughter, and cheers. While we had been hunting down Vagabonds, the Day of Thieves festival was in full swing.

Roska, Hartwin, and I had returned to where we had left Gino. He was still leaning against the wall, eyes shut.

“Hey, Gino.” He opened his eyes, glaring at me. I held out the flags. “Just need one more,” I smiled.

He muttered something incomprehensible. It sounded like a combination of a grunt of annoyance and muttered praise.

This guy…

I caught Roska eyeing me. She was waiting for me to tell Gino about the deal we made with Oliver.

I spoke loud enough to be heard over the din of the festival. “There’s something else.” Gino narrowed his eyes at me, brow furrowed.

“Oliver, the guy we got these flags from, gave us a head start,” I revealed.

Gino’s expression remained fixed.

Did he not get it? Or does he not give a damn?

I explained in further detail. “Once there’s only fifteen minutes left, he’s coming after us. Oliver will hunt us down and take back the flags.”