Chapter 2.1: The First Four Days of Rest
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
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Day 6: A Beautiful Sunrise
As the first rays of dawn crested the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of gold and crimson, August and his team began to stir from their well-deserved rest. The previous evening, their caravan had discovered a small clearing hidden from the main road—a natural sanctuary surrounded by towering oak trees that provided both concealment and comfort. The space was just large enough to accommodate their seven wagons in a defensive circle, with room for a modest camp in the center where cooking fires could burn without drawing unwanted attention.
After completing their morning routine of body calisthenics and weapon drills, everyone took time to stretch their travel-weary bodies and shake off the stiffness that came from sleeping on hard ground and long hours of sitting on a moving wagon. August felt a surge of gratitude as he observed his people—they had been fortunate thus far, with no night attacks disrupting their rest. However, he knew that vigilance remained the cornerstone of their survival in these lawless lands. As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows through the forest canopy, the entire group gathered in the center of their makeshift camp for a light breakfast of bread, dried meat, and foraged berries.
There was something almost sacred about this moment—dozens of families from different walks of life, united by their shared journey toward a better future, breaking their fast together as the wilderness awakened around them. Children laughed softly as they played quiet games, while adults spoke in hushed tones about their hopes for the village that awaited them. It was indeed a beautiful morning, and August silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that such peace would continue to grace their travels.
Following their communal breakfast, the convoy settled into the familiar rhythm of maintenance and preparation. August organized his people into groups to inspect wagon wheels for cracks, check axles for wear, and inventory their food supplies. Despite the hardships of the road, morale remained surprisingly high. There had been minor injuries—scraped knuckles, twisted ankles, bruises from fighting bandits, small open wounds from cuts and the occasional bout of stomach troubles—but nothing that required serious medical attention.
August and his core team made their rounds among the families, checking on everyone's welfare and listening to concerns. These personal interactions were crucial for maintaining unity and trust within the group. Meanwhile, many took advantage of the nearby creek to wash clothes and bathe, the clear mountain water providing a refreshing respite from days of accumulated grime. Weapons were cleaned and sharpened with methodical care, each person understanding that their survival might depend on the edge of their blade or the straightness of their arrow.
The majority of the convoy's defenders were armed with sturdy ash wood spears, their iron points gleaming in the dappled sunlight. The hunting families—the Wildwoods, Trackers, and Archers—maintained their longbows with practiced precision, checking strings for fraying and fletching arrows with steady hands. But it was the Martin family that drew August's particular attention and respect.
The Martins possessed an air of professional competence that set them apart from the other families. August had noticed their specialized weapons and equipment, their coordinated movements, and the way they constantly observed their surroundings with the practiced eyes of seasoned warriors. While he hadn't pressed them for details about their mysterious background, he could sense that his people possessed skills that others would covet—and perhaps kill for. He was also keenly aware that they were watching him just as carefully, evaluating his leadership and decisions with the scrutiny of professionals judging an amateur.
This mutual observation extended beyond the Martins to include his own closest companions. August understood that earning the complete trust of hardened fighters would take time and proof of competence under fire. He hoped that his actions in the days to come would demonstrate his worthiness of their loyalty.
Regarding supplies, their situation remained stable. Food stores were adequate, supplemented by fresh game brought in by their skilled hunters who ventured into the surrounding forest during the day. This self-sufficiency would prove crucial in the days ahead, as settlements became increasingly sparse and the distances between safe havens grew ever greater. Their arsenal was equally well-stocked—August had ensured they possessed ample armor, weapons, and ammunition, with arrows particularly plentiful thanks to the craftsmanship of their fletchers. All of the weapons were made by August's SYSTEM craftsman Magnus; the abundance of arrowheads were the result of surplus inventory he couldn't sell to Count Gremory due to the hectic events that had occurred back in the City.
The convoy's defensive structure had been carefully planned and tested. While most families wielded spears, a core group of frontline fighters carried shields paired with swords, axes, or maces. These stalwart defenders would form the backbone of their shield wall, a human barrier designed to protect the more vulnerable members of their community. Behind them, the spear-wielders would present a bristling hedge of iron points to deter cavalry charges, while their archers provided ranged support from protected positions. The Martin family served as their mobile cavalry unit, capable of striking the flanks of any attacking force.
This tactical formation had been suggested by Axel Martin, the family patriarch, when August had approached him weeks earlier in Gremory seeking advice on convoy defense. Axel had bluntly pointed out that their small security team, no matter how skilled, could never hope to protect over a hundred souls against determined attackers. The solution lay in training the entire convoy to fight as a coordinated unit.
The crash course in group combat tactics they had undergone before departure was now bearing fruit. Their ranged contingent consisted of twenty-six skilled archers: ten from the Wildwood family, seven from the Trackers, and nine from the Archer family proper. These three groups were commanded by their respective patriarchs—Donnel Archer, a weathered man whose eyes never seemed to miss a detail; Tormund Wildwood, whose knowledge of forest warfare was legendary; and Bran Tracker, whose ability to read signs and predict enemy movements had saved countless lives over the years.
The Stonehammer family formed the anvil of their defensive line. These stocky, broad-shouldered folk were natural warriors, their experience with heavy tools translating seamlessly to combat with maces and axes. Six of their men, including their strapping young adult sons, would hold the front line, while four of their women would form a second defensive rank, ready to protect the children if the primary defenses failed. Their patriarch, Gorin Stonehammer, was a man whose very presence seemed to radiate unshakeable determination.
The Carpenter and Mason families provided additional frontline strength. Five Carpenter men, led by the methodical patriarch Jorik Carpenter, would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Stonehammer allies, while three of their wives formed part of the second rank. The Masons contributed five frontline fighters under the command of their patriarch Cedric Mason, a man whose strategic mind was as sharp as his trowel, with six of their women providing crucial rear-guard support.
In total, their shield wall consisted of sixteen men in the front rank and fourteen women in the second—all equipped with professional-grade armor and weapons that August had mysteriously procured through his SYSTEM abilities, though he had allowed the families to assume these items had been purchased from conventional armorsmiths and weaponsmiths.
The spear contingent drew heavily from their farming families, whose experience with hay forks and other agricultural tools made the transition to combat spears relatively straightforward. They needed to master only the fundamental techniques of thrusting and formation fighting, rather than the complex swordplay required of other warriors.
The Greenfield family contributed eight able-bodied fighters under the steady leadership of their patriarch Aldric Greenfield. The Harvest family provided seven, led by their patriarch Willem Harvest, whose calm demeanor masked a fierce protective instinct. Patriarch Gareth Plowman commanded seven members of his clan, while patriarch Theon Barley led eight of his kin into potential battle. Patriarch Magnos Thornwick directed seven fighters, patriarch Osmund Meadowbrook commanded six, and patriarch Roderick Tillman led seven more. Together, these farming families could field fifty spear-wielders of various ages and both genders, creating a formidable phalanx behind their shield wall.
While this defensive structure could theoretically operate as a cohesive military unit, August understood its limitations. These were not professional soldiers but ordinary people fighting to protect their families. Each patriarch retained ultimate authority over their family members during combat, and individual family welfare would always take precedence over broader tactical considerations. It was an imperfect system, but one that acknowledged the human realities of their situation.
In truth, they weren't expecting to face professional forces. They would be fighting veteran yet unskilled bandits that roamed this route, laying ambush for those who were unprepared. At most, they would be confronting Category I enemies—Common Humans, Humanoids, and Demi-Humans. While there were some cases of Category II—Advanced—or the rarer Category III—Experts—that would command these bandit groups, the strategy remained simple: once you cut off the heads of the leaders, enemy morale would usually plummet into disorder. The task of their migrant defenders was simply to thwart those who managed to get past August, Team 1, and the Martin Family (Team 2).
The Baker family, led by their industrious patriarch Baelor Millwright, served multiple crucial roles within the convoy. During travel, they managed meal preparation and took turns driving wagons, their steady hands and patient temperaments making them excellent teamsters. In combat, their seven adult members would form the final line of defense, protecting the forty-five children and non-combatants who represented the future of their community.
Among these protected individuals were the young adults aged thirteen to nineteen, as well as their diverse group including their temporary beastkin companions: Andy, Sibus, Marcus, Michelle, Nina, Princess Mee-rka, Senna, and Kira. August had made the difficult decision not to include the beastmen and beastwomen in active combat roles, knowing they would eventually part ways with the convoy. However, they had been assigned to the final defensive line as a precautionary measure.
The convoy's primary military strength lay in August's handpicked teams. Team 1 consisted of Erik as sub-leader, along with Angeline, Betty, Bren, Adam, and Isabel—each a skilled warrior in their own right. Team 2 was composed entirely of the Martin family: patriarch Axel Martin, sub-leader Bjorn Martin, and their wives and children, totaling ten highly trained fighters whose true capabilities remained partially shrouded in mystery.
As the afternoon wore on and various maintenance tasks neared completion, August gathered his core leadership for a strategic discussion. The peaceful atmosphere of their temporary camp belied the dangers that lurked in the surrounding wilderness, and he had been formulating a plan to address the most immediate threats to their safety.
"I've been considering our tactical situation since yesterday's encounters," August began, his voice carrying the quiet authority that had emerged naturally during their journey. "Rather than waiting for bandits and robbers to ambush us on the road, what if we took the initiative and struck their nearby camps before they could organize attacks against our convoy?"
Axel Martin was the first to respond, his weathered features showing approval. "A preemptive strategy has considerable merit, especially since we have the luxury of time while camped here. Eliminating threats before they can coordinate against us would significantly reduce our potential casualties. However, we must ensure adequate security for those remaining with the convoy." His tactical assessment carried the weight of hard-earned experience.
Erik voiced the agreement of Team 1 with characteristic loyalty. "We'll follow whatever course of action Gus decides upon. But I hope whoever participates in the strike mission will exercise appropriate caution." Despite his youth, Erik's advice reflected a growing maturity born of responsibility for his comrades' lives.
Andy and Marcus nodded their agreement, though Marcus raised a practical question. "Who volunteers for the advance strike force?"
Without hesitation, August stepped forward. "I'll lead the assault personally. Team 1 will provide support from concealed positions." The decision sparked a brief discussion of tactics and contingencies before the group dispersed to make their preparations.
The remainder of the day was spent in weapon maintenance and equipment checks. Their plan would be executed the following morning, beginning with aerial reconnaissance provided by Bren and his companion Kirpy—the only members of their party capable of flight and therefore able to provide comprehensive intelligence about the surrounding terrain.
As the first day of rest drew to a close, Bren's scouting mission yielded valuable intelligence. He had identified what appeared to be a significant settlement approximately ten to twenty kilometers from their current position, with clear signs of human activity. More importantly, his aerial survey of the surrounding hundred-kilometer radius revealed no other major concentrations of potential threats.
The stage was set for tomorrow's preemptive strike.
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Day 7: Preemptive Strike
In a crude settlement hidden among the twisted trees and rocky outcroppings of the Eastern Woodlands, two hundred outlaws had gathered to form their own twisted community. Far from the watchful eyes of imperial authorities and the kingdom of Ogind's patrols, these criminals had created a haven for banditry, theft, and worse crimes against innocent travelers. They were the human refuse of civilized society—individuals who had chosen predation over honest work, violence over peaceful coexistence.
The camp buzzed with nervous energy as disturbing rumors circulated among the brigands. Stories of the "Blurred Devil" had reached even this remote gathering of criminals—tales of a supernatural entity that hunted those who preyed upon the innocent. The whispered accounts spoke of entire bandit camps found empty, their inhabitants vanished without a trace, leaving only bloodstains and the lingering scent of fear. These stories included failed ambushes and, most notably, the destruction of Gremory's underworld congregation of like-minded people.
These dark stories were embellished and distorted as they passed from mouth to mouth, fueled by the constant consumption of stolen alcohol and crude narcotics that formed the foundation of the outlaws' debauched lifestyle. For most civilized people, such self-destructive behavior would be incomprehensible, but for these criminals, it represented the only existence they knew or cared to pursue.
The leader of this particular band was a scarred veteran of countless raids and murders, a man whose survival instincts had been honed by years of violence. Unlike many of his followers, he possessed enough intelligence to recognize genuine threats when they emerged. The reports of the Blurred Devil's presence in their territory had convinced him that discretion was the better part of valor—at least for now.
"Listen carefully, you brain-addled fools," he growled to his assembled lieutenants, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to immediate obedience. "We're going to avoid that caravan everyone's been talking about. I don't care how much loot they might be carrying—the Blurred Devil isn't just some campfire story. It's real, and it's hunting people exactly like us. Any idiot who tries to attack that convoy will end up just like the other camps that got too greedy for their own good."
His words carried weight among the more experienced criminals, men and women who had learned to distinguish between genuine threats and mere superstition. Most nodded their understanding, recognizing the wisdom in avoiding a confrontation they might not survive. However, in any group of desperate individuals, there were always those whose judgment had been compromised beyond recovery—people so deep in chemical dependency or mental instability that even obvious danger couldn't penetrate their delusions.
Perched silently in the branches of a massive oak tree that overlooked the camp, August listened to these conversations with growing interest. Initially, the bandit leader's caution had given him pause—perhaps these criminals could be left alone if they truly intended to avoid the convoy. Such restraint would be unusual for his increasingly ruthless approach to threats, but it seemed worth considering.
However, his surveillance soon revealed a more complex situation unfolding within the camp. While the leadership preached caution, other voices were advocating for exactly the kind of aggressive action that would endanger innocent lives.
"Stand down? Are you all completely insane?" The strident voice belonged to a woman whose eyes gleamed with the unnatural intensity of someone lost to chemical addiction. "That caravan is practically overflowing with goods and valuables! We could live like kings for months on what they're carrying!"
Her words attracted a circle of like-minded criminals, mostly men whose infatuation with her had overridden their survival instincts. These individuals were clearly planning to defy their leader's orders and attempt exactly the kind of ambush that August had come to prevent. The woman's voice continued to rise as she detailed increasingly violent fantasies about what they would do to the convoy's defenders and civilians alike.
August had heard enough. His initial inclination toward mercy evaporated as he listened to these criminals casually discuss the rape, murder, and torture of innocent people—including children. Whatever capacity for redemption these individuals might once have possessed had been completely consumed by their chosen lifestyle of predation and violence.
His tactical assessment of the camp revealed approximately two hundred combatants with an average skill level equivalent to Category II-Advanced Humans. The strongest individual appeared to be their leader, whose abilities placed him in the Mid-Tier Category III-Expert Human range. While formidable by ordinary standards, such opposition posed no significant threat to August and his enhanced capabilities.
Team 1 had already deployed to predetermined positions around the camp's perimeter, their new equipment allowing them to blend seamlessly with the forest shadows. August had recently upgraded their gear through his SYSTEM abilities, providing each team member with specially crafted masks, hooded capes, and armor that would help maintain their mysterious reputation while offering enhanced protection and concealment.
With a subtle hand signal, August initiated the attack. The first phase consisted of precision archery from multiple concealed positions, with Erik, Isabel, and August himself providing accurate fire while constantly shifting locations to create the illusion of a much larger attacking force.
The first bandit to die never saw the arrow that took his life, the projectile striking him in the throat as he attempted to raise an alarm. "We're under atta—" His words were cut short as he collapsed, his body entering immediate rigor mortis from the shock of sudden death.
Chaos erupted throughout the camp as more arrows found their marks with deadly precision. The surviving criminals attempted to organize defensive positions, but their lack of discipline and coordination became immediately apparent. These were individuals accustomed to preying on defenseless travelers, not engaging in combat against skilled opponents who held every tactical advantage.
The three archers moved through the trees like vengeful spirits, their enhanced equipment allowing them to maintain concealment while delivering death from multiple angles. To the panicking bandits below, it seemed as though they were under assault by an army of invisible killers, arrows materializing from the darkness to claim life after life with mechanical precision.
The bandit leader, despite his earlier wisdom about avoiding dangerous confrontations, proved himself a coward when faced with actual peril. Rather than attempting to rally his followers or organize an effective defense, he immediately began gathering his personal treasure hoard, his greed overriding any sense of loyalty or leadership responsibility.
However, August's aerial intelligence network provided him with comprehensive awareness of all movement within the camp. Bren's overhead surveillance allowed for real-time tracking of high-value targets, and the fleeing leader's distinctive aura made him easy to locate despite his attempts at stealth.
August had been experimenting with advanced applications of his elemental abilities, and this situation provided an ideal opportunity to test his latest innovation. Drawing upon both his lightning and wind secondary elemental affinities, he imbued it into the specialized crafted throwing spear that hummed with combined elemental energy. The weapon represented a significant advancement in his combat capabilities, demonstrating his growing mastery over his two magical disciplines and use of his array of weapons.
The elemental spear flew through the air with a distinctive whistling sound that seemed to harmonize with the wind itself. Lightning crackled along its length as it accelerated beyond natural limits, guided by winds that bent to August's will. The bandit leader had perhaps a single moment to register the approaching sound before the weapon struck him center mass.
The combined elemental energies proved devastatingly effective. The spear punched through his stolen armor as though it were paper, continued through flesh and bone, and finally embedded itself deep in the ground behind him. The massive wound left by the weapon's passage ensured immediate death—the bandit leader's final thoughts, whatever they might have been, died with him in an instant.
Those criminals who attempted to flee the camp found their escape routes blocked by the other members of Team 1. Adam took point as their mobile fortress, his enhanced armor and defensive capabilities allowing him to absorb enemy attacks while Angeline and Betty delivered lethal strikes from his flanks. Their coordination had improved dramatically since the early days of their journey, each team member understanding instinctively how to support their companions in combat.
August had stressed repeatedly that allowing these criminals to escape would be a grave mistake. Like cockroaches, they would inevitably resurface elsewhere to prey upon other innocent victims. The only permanent solution was complete elimination of the threat they represented.
The battle lasted just over an hour, but its outcome had never been in doubt. All two hundred bandits, robbers, and assorted criminals were systematically eliminated with professional efficiency. Those few who glimpsed their attackers before dying saw masked figures that seemed to embody death itself, moving with inhuman precision and showing no mercy whatsoever.
For Team 1, this engagement represented a significant psychological milestone. The hesitation and moral uncertainty that had plagued some members during earlier encounters had largely evaporated. August's previous discussions about the nature of their enemies and the necessity of decisive action had taken root, transforming his companions into more effective and resolute fighters.
The aftermath of battle brought its own tasks. The team methodically searched the camp for valuables and useful equipment, recovering items that the criminals had stolen from countless victims over the years. Their haul included one hundred imperial gold coins—a substantial sum that August absorbed into his banking system for future use. Metallic weapons and tools were salvaged for potential repurposing, while everything else was abandoned to be reclaimed by the forest.
August made a point of checking on each team member's physical and emotional condition following the engagement. Combat, even against deserving targets, could leave psychological scars that required attention and support. Fortunately, none of his people had sustained injuries, and their mental state seemed stable despite the violence they had witnessed and participated in.
The bodies of their enemies were left where they had fallen, a deliberate decision to allow nature to reclaim what remained of these individuals who had chosen to live outside the bounds of civilized society. August felt no remorse for this choice—these criminals had forfeited any claim to dignity or proper burial through their actions against innocent people.
Some members of Team 1 continued to struggle with the moral implications of their actions, but they had begun to internalize August's perspective on justice and necessity. These bandits had shown no mercy to their own victims, and had felt no hesitation in planning violence against defenseless families. What they received was simply the same callousness they had shown to others, a form of cosmic balance that restored a small measure of justice to the world.
For August himself, there had never been any moral ambiguity. He had ceased to view such individuals as human beings deserving of consideration or compassion. They were parasites, predators, a disease that infected civilized society and caused immeasurable suffering to innocent people. Their elimination was not murder but sanitation, the removal of a blight that had no place in a just world.
After several hours of methodical cleanup and salvage operations, the team began their return journey to the convoy's camp. The mission had been an unqualified success—a significant threat had been permanently neutralized with zero casualties among the defenders. As they made their way through the darkening forest, each team member processed the day's events in their own way, preparing mentally for whatever challenges tomorrow might bring.
The sun was setting by the time they reached their temporary sanctuary, painting the sky in the same brilliant colors that had marked the beginning of this eventful day. The convoy remained secure and peaceful, families gathered around cooking fires as children played and adults shared quiet conversations about their hopes for the future.
August and his team dispersed to their individual rest areas, each needing time and space to decompress from the intensity of combat. The day had ended with another small victory for justice, another step closer to their ultimate destination, and another lesson learned about the harsh realities of protecting innocent lives in a world where evil often flourished unchecked.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight they could rest knowing that one less threat lurked in the darkness, waiting to prey upon the innocent.
[BANKING SYSTEM UPDATED:]
**Imperial Currency:**
- 34 Imperial Orichalcum Coins
- 1,630 Imperial Gold Coins (+100)
- 592 Imperial Silver Coins
- 225 Imperial Copper Coins
**Local Currency:**
- 6,039 Local Gold Coins
- 512 Local Silver Coins
- 233 Local Copper Coins