Welcome to Those Who Seek Change! The events that led to the creation of this fic were rather funny - I just simply had enough writing scraps laying around that I could assemble them into a fic.
Don't expect consistent updates, but I hope to keep the quality up and the story interesting. As always, reviews are lovely, as they really are one of the greatest factors driving me to write.
"Loot and pillage boys! Loot and pill- AGH!"
The bandit is knocked bodily into the ground, courtesy of a brand new arrow sticking out of his neck - and his final moments are of clawing at the offending object, trying in vain to remove it. His companions gawk at the sudden and brutal loss of one of their vocal members. For a moment, Savriel watches, hoping that these idiots will realize what they are doing will result in their deaths.
No such luck. Moments later, the fight is resumed, with cries of vengeance intermixing with clashing of steel on steel. Her first kill of the day is on one of the idiots who thought it'd be a good idea to charge in alone.
It has been a relatively nice day so far - Travel tends to be, assuming fair weather and a well-built road. Their destination this time was the lands of the Ochs nobility. A simple trip, three days and three nights, stretched to five and four with detours for large villages upon the path. After all, if they were to go all of the way to deliver their goods to a distant client, what sort of merchants would they be if they were to miss potential customers on their way out?
And then came the bandit raid, as they were wont to do. A score of twenty men, armed with crude weaponry, had come down from the other side of a hill, ready to strike the 'inferior' forces guarding their caravan, numbered only eight.
Alas, it seemed that these particular bandits were even dumber than the usual sort. After all, not only were they making the mistake of attempting to rob an Anna caravan, but well…
Their caravan was full of nought but silk and fine cloth, rather than gold. Even if by some miracle they were to succeed, they'd walk away with nothing but a price on their heads and some fancy tablecloths, or maybe a new change of clothing. Human greed and viciousness have long since become a part of life for a merchant caravaneer - transporting goods to those who desire them has always attracted bandits like flies on shit - or in this case, like shit on product.
Savriel sighs, twirling her blade in her grip. She was in her position in the formation, near the front, but not the spearhead. Close enough to the action to prevent her from complaining, but not close enough to be in any real danger. She barely flinches as she puts down another rabid aggressor, her blade singing through the air, and leaving a messy and jagged cut where the head was moments ago.
"Another batch of them?" asks one of the mercenaries to her left, having struck down a bandit as well. A greener than usual recruit, to temporarily replace one of their usual guards who had come down ill. Only a fool would take an ill soldier along. At least this one has enough sense to not panic. "I swear, where are these guys coming from?!"
Anna's clear voice echoes over the battle. She never talks too much during raids, as she tends to stay near the rear. Savriel quickly glances behind herself, noting her mother's position atop one of the wagons, usual greatbow in hand and nocked. Savriel grins slightly, noting the quiver full of defective and crooked arrows strapped to the woman's back. Not even worth pulling out the good arrows this time, huh?
"Bandits will be bandits. They came looking for free samples, but all we have for them is arrows. Clean them up, we have a schedule to keep!"
Ah yes, the schedule.
Every day, with the same purpose. Travel to a destination. Sell goods. Buy other goods. Return home. Repeat ad infinitum. It was a living sure, but definitely a boring one. Their family had done it for generations now - all of the branches of it, really. Everyone was aware of the Anna Family, and that it operated almost more like a corporation than a bloodline.
The horrible screeches of a donkey taking mortal injury echoes from the back as an arrow sails past the formation. It seems one of the bandit archers is either a crack shot, or a crap shot. She isn't sure which, and the return fire sent back by her mother is fast enough to ensure she never finds out.
"Well, I guess we're eating donkey this trip." shrugs Savriel. Losing an animal will be annoying, but fortunately they did not overpack this trip. More than enough to make it even with resupply at the villages, but still sparse enough to avoid spoilage.
Waste not, want not, a phrase pounded into her since she was old enough to walk. If you can't sell it, use it. If you can't use it or sell it, why do you have it in the first place?
Absent-mindedly, she stabs another bandit, before kicking them over. Boring. The fighting has already died down, with a dozen men and women laying bleeding on the ground. None of them are theirs, of course.
Her eyes focus slightly, as she looks further back into the field. One of the bandits is staying back, watching the situation unfold. Older and more grizzled than the others, this one obviously is either in charge, or at least is a major leader.
Though considering the fact that this ambush happened at all, they were still either stupid, or at least were overruled. Still, maybe they'd be a good challenge?
Grinning wickedly, Savriel sprints forwards, sword in hand and gauntlet ready on the other. The Elite Bandit, her target, widens his eyes, before taking a defensive stance.
With a mighty clang, the two blades meet, forcing Savriel back, her arm buzzing from the impact strain. She can't help but smile even wider, knowing that this one didn't just fall over the moment she attacked!
"You've got a fire in your eyes, lass." grins back the bandit, revealing broken teeth. "You sure you don't want to join us instead of fighting?"
Defecting to a group only minutes away from being wiped out. Yes, absolute brilliance. She doesn't stop herself from snorting.
Savriel rolls her eyes, as she takes up the stance she had practiced. The bandit pauses, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head, before moving onto the offense.
Three blows are deflected or blocked, though two more sneak through, scoring wounds upon the young swordswoman's less-armored shoulders. All questions of the bandit's skill are now answered. An excellent fight lies ahead of the merchant's daughter.
Taking in a breath, Savriel slides past another strike, before winding back. For a moment, her gauntlet glows a pale light, before she lashes out. A deep, reverberating clang of metal echoes through the air as the 'spell' coating her gauntleted fist connects with her foe's forehead, and they stagger back dazed.
Seizing the opportunity, strike after strike rained down upon the now-stunned bandit, scoring wounds which quickly outweigh the few she has taken herself. Yet she still is not able to land a killing blow. Even while debilitated, the elite is still able to put up the remnants of a defense.
"Why won't you die?!" Savriel growls, as another of her strikes is deflected. Is she really that predictable? This bandit isn't even that good! That one mercenary they had hired from Jeralt's mercenaries years back - that was skill. But this bandit?
The bandit has the gall to laugh at her. "You're an open book, lass."
Her vision narrows and her sight tints red as those words bite her.
"I am not an open book!" she screams, abandoning all remnants of a defensive stance. Blow after blow after blow she rains down -
Only to be thrown off balance by the Bandit holding their ground, and counter attacking. Gasping in confusion and exhaustion, Savriel staggers back, landing on the ground with a thunk, her chain vest rattling around her.
The bandit spits on the ground, before advancing towards his fallen foe - only to pause, looking down.
The fletchings of an arrow with a crooked shaft pokes out from the center of his gut. Its length glows softly with magical power.
"Fuck." states the bandit plainly, before they finally keel over and die.
Savriel blinks slowly, before looking around the battlefield. Already, the fight is over and done. The rest of the bandits are dead on the ground, and the mercenaries are doing the thing they were truly hired for - stripping their fallen foes and piling them up into a pyre. Their possessions will likely be sold to the nearest bulk buyer, and then likely sold again to yet another batch of bandits.
Letting loose a shaky breath, Savriel staggers back to her feet, wincing slightly as the battle fervor winds down, allowing her new wounds to finally voice their grievances. That last hit stings in particular, its path marked by visible chips in her chain shirt.
Serves her right for charging out like an idiot.
Was she truly too predictable?
She shakes her head as she walks back to the wagons.
"Seriously, Mum? Why didn't you do that earlier?" she can't help but whine, rubbing a sore spot near her breast. Her armor was a life saver, sure, but it definitely didn't do much to curb bruising.
Anna smirks as she climbs down from the roof. "Well, dear, you looked like you were having fun out there. Besides, an Anna doesn't steal anything, much less a kill."
Savriel groans, as she digs through a nearby box for a healing potion. "Yeah yeah…"
As she chugs the painfully-sweet concoction, the words of the bandit still echo through her ears.
Predictable…
She growls to herself. Why wasn't she getting any better?
And even worse, why was she so… upset, now that the duel was over? Sure, it was a challenge and. -
She sucks in a breath. Ah. Challenge.
The one thing these trips never truly had. Sure, they were fraught with danger, but so was trudging through a swamp. Sure, they had seen some nasty things on their travels, but with her mother at the helm, they were always easily avoided, or planned around. The only struggles these days were the ever-increasing hordes of badly trained bandits…
She lets loose a shaky breath… and pauses when her mother takes a seat beside her. She grimaces slightly - she can already hear what will happen next.
"You know you can have a second Vulnerary if you need it." her mother whispers, barely audible to the naked ear. After all, the mere idea of an Anna suggesting wasting unneeded resources - such a potentially scandalous rumor if it were to get out!
Savriel groans and rolls her eyes. "I don't need it. The last one closed all of my wounds well enough that I can walk the rest off - and everything else is just bruising. There's no need to dip into the emergency funds for this, mum."
Every guard was offered a single Vulnerary per battle, including herself. It was both a method to keep costs down, as well as to 'incentivise' not taking unnecessary risks.
And considering how taking an unnecessary risk was what led to her being injured...
She pauses for a moment, before finally speaking up. "Hey, mum? Do you think I'm getting any better at this?"
Anna blinks for a moment, pausing to think -
"Fuck." sighs Savriel, placing her head in her hands. "If you actually need to think to answer that one, then that says enough."
Her mother blinks slowly, before sheepishly smiling. "You've definitely become better on the road, dear. Hardly complain any more about emergency marches or first watches."
"I mean on the battlefield." Savriel groans, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. "I still haven't figured out how to use real magic yet, and heck, I'm still not as good with a blade as some of our guards back at home are!"
As Anna tries to speak up, Savriel holds up a hand to stop her - sure, she'll get in trouble for that later, but she is trying to make a point.
"That bandit - I had him on the backfoot. Even got him with a stun, but I still couldn't put him down. I-I'm worried that I'm just… not getting any better, any more."
Her mother blinks again, before sighing. "Do you want to switch to the home guard for a -"
"No! Gods no!" Savriel exclaims, shaking her head vigorously. "I'd go mad if I were to just sit around all day, watching the wall. These trips to other places are like the only enjoyment I -... get… these days…"
And finally, it sinks in.
Being a guard… It's just not satisfying to her any more. Sure, it had been fun the first few years - When she was thirteen, but that was just because everything was so exciting. Sure, she had a mercenary babysitting her on the battlefield the entire time, but the mere ability to go out and fight was exhilarating.
At least, until the monotony set in. By age fifteen, even the discomfort of killing a bandit had faded, replaced instead with mourning for a fool's life having come to an unfortunate end.
She stood at the tail end of her sixteenth year now, with only a month until her seventeenth, the mere idea of doing this forever with no improvement is… daunting, and horrifying in equal measure.
They had hired tutors, of course, but she had never meshed with them well. Her fighting style was simply too strange for the weaponry tutors to do more than offer pointers, and the magical tutors were never able to properly teach her to cast magic.
Yet, every tutor hired had said the same thing. She'd do well at the Officer's Academy.
Sure, she had looked into the place, and had found it daunting. Located in the center of Fodlan atop a sacred mountain, the academy doubled as a monastery and a sign of religious power of the cult - the Church of Seiros. And while it was renowned for pumping out legendary warriors at quite frankly ludicrous speeds, it was also the home of those bastards that would kick over their screw pumps for being 'illegal technology'.
If the idea of fetching water without needing a bucket was illegal, she would be amazed if the average inquisitor was literate. They ran a silk and cotton growing operation. If it weren't for the pumps, merely irrigating the crops would take hundreds of man-hours per day. Especially considering how the church was one of the largest buyers of fine cloth.
"Hey, dear. You alright in there?"
Savriel blinks, forcing herself back to the present. "Um, yeah, mum. Just thinking about the future."
Anna nods slowly, though she still shoots her daughter a concerned glance. "I'm going to make sure none of the mercenaries missed anything, and go prepare that donkey I heard someone talking about."
"You go do that."
With the departure of Anna, Savriel remains alone in the wagon. For several minutes, she sighs, rubbing her bruises, before nodding slowly.
Perhaps it truly is time to strive for something more.
She'll have plenty of time to think about how to word her argument. After all…
"Alright, everyone! Let's get moving again!"
It's not like this trip won't take plenty more time.