005 – Benessel and Sari

“Soldiers! Today, you join my war. The bureaucrats in Varranir will tell you that this is a war for honor, but they have never experienced a Bangari raid. The Bangari spills blood like water. The Bangari kills, and kills, and kills, until everything around it is dead. When you fall to its horns and its claws and its Soulsteel, I will take your rations. I will drink your water. And I will wield your blade to kill more Bangari in honor of your spilt blood. When I fall, you shall take everything that sustained me to KEEP. ON. FIGHTING.. This is a war for survival and we are Soldiers. This is our Way.”

“…Thank you for coming to our aid,” The older mage said, his face a stoic mask that nonetheless let his exhaustion show through. His white and crimson robes, emblazoned on the chest with a nine-pointed star, seemed to fall from his frame to billow around him in the breeze, “We of course have food to spare, if field rations are acceptable.”

Ai thought he was a rather square man, all straight lines and right angles. He looked about forty or so, tall and muscular and his dark hair in a braid not too dissimilar from her own. He had a neatly trimmed beard that was just unkempt enough that it seemed like it was missing its usual meticulous maintenance, and his voice was a deep baritone, steady and measured despite the ordeal he had just been through.

“We are in your debt, karra. What might we call you?” He continued.

“Ayle,” Ai offered. It was true, after a fashion. “I’m… a traveling mage. And that’s Aru.”

She pointed at Aru, who had trotted over to the buried bandits to relieve himself on their exposed heads. He raised his head at the mention of his name, and gave a happy bork in lieu of an introduction.

“I see,” The mage responded, “An auspicious alias, and well–deserved at that. Very well, Ayle. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude.”

An auspicious alias? Was the name so famous? It couldn’t be her character’s name could it?

“I am Karravar Benessel, lately of the Citadel of Glass.” The mage said, and Ai’s thoughts screeched to a halt.

Karravar Benessel. He said it like it was a rank or title. Ai still had no idea how long it had been since the World Quest’s conclusion, since [Stormold], her guildmates, and who knows how many others, had arrived in Varrah. Did they play nation-builder in her absence?

A pang of longing—she would’ve loved building a nation together with her guildmates.

But Ai needed to know more. Had her friends founded an order of mages? A nation? What did it mean to these people to be a Karravar?

Most importantly, could following this thread of inquiry lead her to her guildmates?

“…And this is my Aspirant, Sarila. Sarila, introduce yourself.” Benessel, oblivious to Ai’s internal turmoil, gestured for the young woman at his side to speak.

“Hello, Miss Ayle. I’m Sarila. Please call me Sari,” She said, clearly out of sorts from the battle but trying her best to be polite.

Sari looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, with sleek black hair that came down to her shoulders, a button nose, and raven black eyes. She wore similar robes to Benessel, but with azure trim and notably without the nine-pointed star that he sported. She was an Aspirant, apparently. Did that make her Benessel’s apprentice?

Benessel abruptly fell to one knee with a pained grunt, his hand pressed against the ground to steady himself.

“Master!” Sari cried in alarm.

“I’m fine, Sarila,” Benessel breathed, though the sweat beading on his grimaced brow suggested otherwise. He looked up at Ai, his professional demeanor cracking to reveal a profound exhaustion. “Forgive me. We have been hounded by those bandits for three days and have been driven far off course.

“I have been forced to beseech holy Nor for a new Ve’un each night. As you can see, this has left me diminished,” He shakily rose to his feet. “Ayle. I will be blunt. By order of his Excellency the Chancellor, our caravan is tasked with the delivery of essential supplies to Outpost Avna. From there, we will be traveling to Ashakir to receive further orders.

“You are a powerful mage. Accompany us as our guard, at least until we reach Ashakir. On my honor as a Karravar of the Varran Republic, you will be compensated fully upon our arrival to the city.”

Ai didn’t need to think long. By fate or happenstance, these mages and their caravan were headed to where she needed to go.

“I won’t need payment,” Ai decided, “Ashakir is along the coast, yes? I have business with the Ikkas and require passage. If you can help me find a ship that can take me there, that’s all the payment I need.”

Just then, her stomach, which had been mercifully quiet thus far, let out another long, mournful growl.

“…but three meals a day wouldn’t hurt either.”

A faint smile touched Benessel’s lips.

“We have an accord,” He nodded, then turned to his student, “Sarila. We camp here for the night. Attend to the men; if I understand the Soldier’s Way correctly, they must butcher the fallen Golga tonight to salvage what they can.”

Sari nodded, a fist raised to her heart in salute.

“I must rest if I am to maintain the caravan’s safety tonight. See to it that Ayle has whatever she needs—rations, a bedroll, a place to sleep,” Benessel turned to Ai, “Ayle. I must have a word in private with my Aspirant. If you could…”

“I’ll be over there then,” Ai nodded, “Over here, Aru!”

It hadn’t taken long for Sari to return from whatever Benessel had had to say to her.

Settling in was simple, as the only belongings Ai had were her endgame traveling robes and [Eye of the Storm], which was nestled into a hidden pocket sewn into the inside.

Ai chewed on a piece of jerky as she observed Sari, who was making her way up and down the caravan.

She found herself with a rising respect for the young woman. With Benessel resting, the burden of command apparently rested on Sari’s shoulders. She bore it with a quiet competence that was impressive to watch. She was earnest and inquisitive with an open ear to the caravaneers’ words, but each decision she made was tightly bound by the strictures of her rank.

Being a Karravar’s Aspirant apparently meant being their adjutant as well.

The prisoners had been shackled with proper manacles and herded into a carriage whose cargo had been hastily redistributed among the others in the caravan. They’d lucked out; a few of the caravaneers had experience dealing with Domga, so their bone-headed mounts had been tied along with enchanted rope and kept calm with a few pieces of fruit.

The Orgawyr was much more difficult to deal with, requiring the touch of a mage. It seemed that Sari was up to the challenge—during Dirge, it had been commonplace for Orgawyr riders to use an organic control jewel that grew in the back of the beasts’ heads to establish a mental rapport. The bandit leader had been carrying this particular Orgawyr’s jewel on her person, so it had been a simple matter of searching her and taking it so that the beast could be managed once it woke up.

After seeing that the bandits had been dealt with, it seemed like the entire caravan came to Sari for her aid in one capacity or another. Merchants with damaged cargo, guards with wounded comrades, and any other caravaneers that needed last-minute decisions all came to Sari, and she addressed each of their concerns with a calm, methodical patience.

It was hard to believe that so many people were involved in the operation of a scant ten carriages, but Ai couldn’t doubt her own eyes.

As she watched Sari work, she could see that the girl’s heart wasn’t quite in the logistical needs of the caravan. Her eyes kept straying back to Ai, her expression filled with a thousand unanswered questions.

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“How did you do it?” Sari finally blurted out, as she finished dealing with the last of the caravaneers, “Your magic. Your weave was nothing like I’ve ever seen—no ritual invocation I could make out, no beseechment of any gods. I don’t see how it can be done with so few semiotic links.”

“A large Semblance helps, and mine’s larger than most,” Ai began, “Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, of course.” Sari said, seemingly offended.

“Then let’s talk about the magic. Do you remember the last spell I used? The one I used on the Orgawyr?” Ai pressed, undeterred.

“Y… yes, I think so. [Force], for the kinetic impartment. Then [Repetition] and [Trinity]. The logic itself is elegant—self-evident—but I don’t understand how you managed to do what you did with only those three links.” Sari responded.