Bacon Macleod
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B4 Chapter 483: Plight of the Living, pt. 1
🕑 Added 2026-01-05 20:40:05 +0000 UTCAfternoon sun streamed into the siege tower that had been erected near the eastern gate. Even with the pleasant warmth and the view of the frontier, it was hard to enjoy the peace when Kaius felt like an alchemist had set up shop in his bones. He had far too much energy, and nothing to do with it.
Afterall, there were only so many times he could run drills to get used to his prosthetic. He was long past the point he felt like tearing the thing off and hurling it back into the dark pit from whence it came.
Atop that golden spire, his team rested with him in an uneasy silence.
The beasts were close — the ultimate battle for the city at hand. Scrying and scouts had confirmed it: a slow-moving wave that crashed its way across the frontier. They had a day, maybe two, before it arrived.
He couldn’t help but think of the Frontier communities that had been in its path. Dozens of villages, hamlets, and even a few small townships. Thousands of souls.
There had been refugees early, as the warning had gone out. They’d been few in number — and had come bearing stories of men patrolling walls and families barring their doors, certain that their defences would be enough to weather the storm. He could only hope that some of them had survived.
It was a thin hope. No scout was suicidal enough to get close to the horde. And while the army itself was easy to track, any fleeing survivors would be lost in all the chaos.
At least the mages had finished with the city’s defences. The tower he now shared with his team was close to the eastern wall and the Delver’s Guild. It had been a miracle to watch. Dragon’s teeth encircled the city, and a deep trench had been cut beneath the walls. Every city gate had been sealed off with strides of stone. They were less reinforced than the quality construction of proper walls built by masons and supported by enchantment, but still an additional defence.
“What do we do if the city falls?” Kenva said quietly. “If the Tyrant proves too strong?”
“It won’t,” Kaius replied.
Kenva shook her head. “We still have to consider it. I am confident too, and clearly none of us fear the risks of battle. But not even we can take on an army alone. We should be certain before the battle comes.”
An unpleasant topic, but Kaius knew in his gut that she was right. He let out a slow breath, adjusting his leg as his prosthetic began to tug uncomfortably.
“Clearly, we shouldn’t sacrifice ourselves for nothing. Risking it all in a battle against the Tyrant is one thing, but if we are truly routed, it is pointless to throw ourselves into an army.”
“We should fall back to Dawntown if that does happen. With our landyacht, we could save at least a few. Dawntown would likely be a harder target for the beasts to find than Mystral. We can help defend them from any strays.”
Kaius hissed — he hadn’t even thought of Dawntown. The Tyrant’s army had kept a consistent western heading, so further to the north as it was, Dawntown had a degree of safety. Still, that was one place he refused to leave to defend itself.
Dozens of bells started to ring through the city. Two beats, then one, then one. Each peal rocked him like an ogre’s club. Any thought of further discussion died in his throat. The pattern was unmistakable: a warning cry. An emergency. A call for the most powerful in the city to gather at the guild.
Something had happened.
Kaius was on his feet in moments. The tension he felt within his bones wound even tighter — ready to explode now that he could finally act.
….
All but ramming the door, Kaius burst into the guildhall back office that the attendant had directed him to. It cracked into the wall, drawing the eyes of Arc and the Mystral mages.
Neither Ro nor Rieker looked up, focused instead on a map laid out over a table.
“Good, you’re here,” Ro said. “We have a problem.”
“That much is obvious — what happened?” Porkchop asked, filing into the room behind Kaius as they clustered around the table.
Ro tapped a red sweeping line that cut through the frontier, just a day out from the city walls. “The beasts. They’re close enough that our far-scouts are getting a better picture of their numbers. They found something else.”
She tapped a red X, just a fingerwidth ahead of the army. “Survivors.”
It fell like a knife. Kaius stared at the mark on the map, his mouth growing dry.
“Fuck.”
Those poor bastards. Running for their lives — the nearest villages were at least a day further still from the city. Kaius couldn’t even imagine the fear, the exhaustion…
“How many?” Kenva whispered.
Rieker sighed. It was a heavy sound — one of resignation. Kaius didn’t even need to hear his response. No matter the number, it wasn’t high enough.
“Fifty-seven. Two-thirds are combat capable; it’s the only reason they’re still alive. The beasts aren’t moving in formation, and they have no set battle lines. Plenty are ranging far ahead — they’re beset on all sides.”
“The other third?” the life mage, Madrigal, asked — her face pale.
When Rieker winced, Ro answered for him. She was clipped, professional, despite the horror she described.
“Non-combatants. Mostly adults, though a few are carrying children. No unclassed over the age of ten.”
Kaius felt the picture she painted like it had been branded on him. No unclassed. They were too slow — of course they’d fallen. Even if their parents had tried to carry them, the weight alone would have slowed them too. These were farmers. Common labourers. Common classes, with fifty levels at most.
They would have been little but slow-moving cattle to the beasts.
His heart slammed in his chest. Every second they spent could easily be another life.
“We have to rescue them!” he yelled, hand gripping A Father’s Gift. There was no way he could sit by while innocents that close ran for their lives.
“Obviously. We are here to discuss how,” Rieker replied. “Most of us must stay — the Golds especially. The beasts are too close to risk the core of our fighting force, no matter the reason.”
Kaius clenched his teeth, but he saw the burning frustration in the Guildmaster’s eyes. It was plain that there was nothing Rieker would like more than to charge out of the city and rain down hellfire on the approaching army.
“I can deliver a strike team within the hour, but without the support of my fellow mages, there is no way I will be able to extract fifty people,” Ophelia suggested, her mouth stretched into a thin line.
Around the table, Ark let out a low rumble. “It pains this one to admit, but it would be unwise to bring them. Honour is a bitter thing, but to leave the city undefended would be folly, and your storm mages are too critical to defend against aerial beasts.”
Fuck. There was no easy solution. They needed some way to get those survivors into the city. He and his team were strong, but there was no way they would be able to fight off the vanguard of an army and keep people alive — not for long enough.
He knew what they had to do. The landyacht was their only hope. Though it was only built for a small retinue, plenty could fit inside and on its top deck if they were packed like sardines.
“We’ll have to put the Pegleg through its paces. Warn the others? No way we’re keeping the landyacht secret after this,” he said to Porkchop quietly through their bond.
“Good idea.”
Ianmus and Kenva’s barely audible sighs of relief quelled his nerves — they had his back.
“We’ll do it. We have a landyacht.”
As most of the room stared at him in shock, Rieker and Ro only gave him approving nods. A heartbeat later, Madra scoffed.
“Of course you do. Poor bastards might actually get to see tomorrow.”
Kaius ignored the man. “It’s small and has no weapons, but we should be able to cram most of the survivors. If me and my team defend it in a fighting retreat, could you make enough trips to pull them out, Ophelia?”
The storm mage hesitated. “I’ll need three trips — it’ll be close. You might make it back to the wall by then.”
Kaius let out a slow breath. It would have to do. His team was ready to depart immediately — with the siege looming, they’d taken to staying battle-ready at all times, armour and all.
“Let’s go. No point wasting time.”
…
Wind howled like a banshee as Kaius’s hair flowed behind him in streamers. Surrounded by supportive magic, he shot above the frontier like a racing arrow, pointed at a monster’s heart. By the gods’ graces, he should have been excited. It was every boy’s dream: flight. It was the domain of only the truly powerful. From ancient stories, he knew that supposedly all eventually gained it in some capacity, but even for a second-tier it was a vanishingly rare thing — only a specialised storm mage like Ophelia could dream to grasp it so early.
Yet despite their defiance of the decree that man was a creature of the land, Kaius could only grip his blade and hope that their journey would be over soon. Every second, every minute was another that those few survivors ran in terror — another that defenceless children might be lost.
There had been fifty-seven when they left. How many would be left when they arrived? Fifty? Fifteen?
His entire team was ready for immediate battle — weapons ready, down to the keyseal that burned around Ianmus’s staff. The only reason Porkchop hadn’t summoned his armour was to cut down on the weight that Ophelia had to carry.
“I see them!” Kenva screamed, pointing to a spot ahead and to their left.
Ophelia adjusted her course immediately, the mage’s brow sweating as her mana surged even higher.
Focusing, Kaius surveyed the frontier with the clarity of Truesight. He spotted them quickly: a desperate band, ragged and bloody. Thirty-odd fighters clustered around men and women in workers’ clothes. As they ran for their lives, beasts hounded them. Only two for now — wolf-like creatures. They kept an easy loping pace, steadily testing the defenders as they beat them back with wild spear thrusts.
Kaius grit his teeth, looking further afield. There he saw the army stretching across the horizon: a ragged tide of teeming movement.
The Tyrant’s army was a loose thing without ordered formation. If he didn’t know better; it would almost be impossible to tell if the creatures moved with unity of purpose. Perhaps it could be mistaken for a simple, unlikely density of creatures — if not for there being a little too many, and the fact that they all moved in the same direction, towards Deadacre.
Kaius switched his attention back to the survivors just in time to watch an unseen feline beast pounce out of thick brush. The people scattered. One was too slow. Kaius watched with impotent rage as they went down, the creature closing around their throat.
The others kept running, each and every one with naked terror on their faces. The creatures were toying with them.
“Fuck! Kenva, Ianmus — can you make the shot?!”
The ranger shook her head, jaw clenched in frustration. “Too far! I need a minute, maybe two!”
“Kenva will be in range before I finish channelling, and I’ll burn too much of my pool keeping a beam lethal from this far away!” Ianmus added.
Kaius could only grip his blade a little tighter, stoking the coal of anger that was inflaming his rising bloodsong.
A/N: One day i'm gonna use the fact that I always forget to do the ',Finale' title to do an epic fake out, but today is not that day
Comments
Bacon Macleod
Specialisations still exist within any given affinity, and Solar isn't the *best* at healing/regeneration compared to other affinities. Mostly though, limb regen is *slow* at the second tier, even with a dedicated caster. Days to months of dedicated treatment depending on strength, skill, and Skill
Robert Gardner
TFTC. I hope they are not caught by the Tyrant outside the wall as it is looking for essence
Tom
Wouldn't the other Silver Sunspire guy know the freecasting thing for regenerative healing? I'd have thought he would have healed Kaius, due to him being one of the better fighters
