Gloaming light stretched hunting silhouettes as Rhyse's group closed in on the former Mine Overseer's hideout. Vance's efficient dispatch of the perimeter watch had set the grim stage. Now came the brutal part.
"Flint, Bellweather, breach!" Vance's command was a low growl, and the two Core Guard veterans moved with the synchrony of a well-oiled Synkar war-machine. Bellweather kicked open the reinforced, makeshift door of the lodge with a resounding crack. Flint was through the opening an instant later, her magiblade a silver flicker in the gloom.
Shouts of surprise and drunken outrage erupted from within. Rhyse, his heart hammering, followed closely behind Vance, his own short sword drawn – the one with the silvered hilt, balanced for quick strikes. The Sensory Enhancement Suite was still active, painting the chaotic interior in sharp detail despite the dim lighting from a sputtering hearth and a few greasy tallow candles.
The main room was a den of rough-hewn tables, spilled ale, and startled thugs scrambling for weapons. There were perhaps eight of them in this initial chamber, their surprise giving Rhyse's team a crucial advantage.
Though this raid marked Rhyse's first true combat operation where he bore direct responsibility for its outcome, the thirteen-year-old heir was no stranger to the clash of steel or the scent of spilled viscera. From the age of nine, Lord Corbin Synkar had insisted his magically inert son accompany patrols through the estate's outer territories, insisting "A ruler must understand every facet of his domain - especially its dangers." These expeditions had seen Rhyse witness the bloody work of dispatching mutated beasts from Twisted Hollows and rogue summon-stalkers that slipped through the border wards.
Yet even those grim lessons paled before tonight's stakes. Where the monster hunts had been controlled exercises with veteran knights forming an impenetrable cordon around him, tonight's assault found him thrust into the thick of combat with barely a handsbreadth between himself and seasoned killers. A telltale tremor ran through his grip on the silver-hilted blade - not from fear (though that simmered beneath the surface), but from the thrumming awareness that despite Vance's protective scowls and Torvin's watchful presence, the accustomed safety nets woven by his father's authority were gone.
Two of Burton's thugs, drawn by the commotion at the trapped path, were now rushing back, only to find Vance framed in the splintered doorway. The fight at the door was immediate and brutal. Vance, a true Rank 2 Vanguard, was a whirlwind of charged glaive and deflecting wards, his movements economical yet devastating. Flint moved like a wraith on his flank, her blade darting in and out, exploiting openings, her movements economical and deadly. Bellweather, his own blade flashing, covered their rear, deflecting a clumsy axe blow and responding with a disabling cut to his attacker's arm.
[ALERT: Combat engagement imminent.
…Assessing User System Gold Spending Track Record and Frequency… User meets criteria for Tactical Interface. Enabling Interface — initial activation granted without charge]
Rhyse maintained a position slightly behind the fray, his own short sword held at the ready, though his mind felt utterly consumed. Only moments before, a chime had sounded within the System, announcing a new function unlocked. The Synkar Core System's tactical display now flickered constantly at the periphery of his vision, transforming from a simple menu into a dynamic, active combat overlay. Enemy positions, identified by fading crimson auras, populated the scene, their projected attack patterns sketched in thin, predictive lines. He saw the immediate threats – the bandit bearing down on Vance, the one attempting to flank Bellweather – highlighted with stark clarity. It wasn't merely information; it was a distilled assessment of the battlefield, a layer of calculated risk and opportunity superimposed on the chaos.
The display felt intuitive, as if the System were anticipating his needs, guiding his awareness where it was needed most. This instinctive grasp of the unfolding melee was a stark contrast to the raw, bewildering terror he'd felt only a minute prior. Overturned tables, surprised shouts turning into enraged bellows, the scrape of crude weapons being drawn – it was a brutal, close-quarters brawl.
Vance was a whirlwind of destruction at the forefront, his Charged War-Glaive a humming lines of light that only Rhyse could see. Green lines highlighted his allies – Vance, Bellweather, and Flint.
Rhyse ignored the urge to activate his Reinforced Personal Ward. These were ruffians, not Rank 4 assassins. His gold was better spent elsewhere if needed, and he needed to feel the edge of this, to prove to himself he wasn't entirely helpless. He gripped his slender, jewel-encrusted dagger in his off-hand, its malevolent energy a faint, cold thrum against his palm.
Although the Bandits were accostumed to raiding and combat, they were at most rank 1-2 bandits without proper training. Unless they had triple their numbers, they could never overpower those three. Flint and Bellweather moved with the deadly efficiency of their Core Guard training, a synchronized dance of parry and thrust, already disabling two more bandits. Vance was a powerful Rank 2 Vanguard, while Flint and Bellweather were Rank 3 Guardsmen with Synkar training.
Rhyse stayed close to the doorway, but soon engaged a burly, axe-wielding-bandit, parrying and striking before Vance's glaive found its mark. Vance and Bellweather, true to their training, instinctively maneuvered to keep him shielded from another coming ruffian who had charged them. He knew his place wasn't in the vanguard.
"Stay behind me, young master!" Vance barked, not unkindly, before turning back to the fray.
Rhyse's Synkar Core System's tactical display flickered to life at the edge of his vision. It wasn't just a passive interface; it was actively processing the unfolding melee.
[Combat Analysis Initiated: Multiple Hostiles Detected. Threat Prioritization Protocol Active.]
Runes and lines of light overlaid the chaotic brawl, a detached, analytical layer upon the scene. A flashing amber rune immediately designated the new threat – a bandit fumbling with a magic bomb, an uncommon find. Rhyse drew the Hand Bow from his back, the weapon already rising as he tracked the bandit, and released a bolt that struck true in the throat.
After the bolt struck, Rhyse's fingers trembled imperceptibly against the hand bow's polished stock. The metallic tang of blood filled the air as the magic bomber to be crumpled, his gurgling cries abruptly silenced. For a heartbeat—just one terrible, suspended moment—Rhyse felt the weight of what he'd done press against his ribs. This wasn't training with blunted blades in the manor courtyard; this man would never rise again.
Some distant part of him knew he should feel horror. Guilt. Something. Yet the battle-trance held fast, narrowing his world to fluid motion and pivoting priorities. The System's clinical notifications—[Elimination Confirmed. Threat Neutralized.]—registered with the same detached precision as the rest of its analytics. Later, in the quiet, he might unravel what this meant about himself. For now, survival and the strange new interface unfolding in his mind demanded his entire focus.
He already learned that with the Tactical Display Red threat-markers pulsed over the most aggressive bandits, those actively engaging Vance, Flint, or Bellweather. Flickering yellow auras highlighted potential secondary threats – individuals scrambling for better positions or reaching for ranged weapons. Green icons pinpointed his allies. Bellweather, grunting his surprise and thanks, seized the opening, his blade darting out to score a deep, disabling cut along another thug's weapon arm.
The System continued to feed him information:
[Hostile Threat - "Axe Thug" - Status: Arm Wounded, Combat Ineffective.]
[Hostile Threat - "Knife Thug" - Morale: Wavering.]
[Ally Status: Kaelen Vance - Vitals Stable, Energy Reserves: Moderate.]
[Ally Status: Petra Flint - Position: Flanking (Rear Entry). Engagement: Imminent]
Flint then parried a heavy cleaver strike and responded with a devastating pommel bash to her opponent's face. The System tagged the downed bandit with a [Status: Incapacitated (Temporary)]` icon.
Simultaneously, Flint ducked under a wild swing from another thug, her return thrust precise and disabling. The initial chaos in the main room was starting to resolve under Vance, Bellweather and Flint's relentless pressure. The remaining thugs here were being systematically disarmed or incapacitated. The real threat now was Burton himself, and whatever loyal cronies remained with him.
But Bellweather, covering a narrower passage leading deeper into the lodge, was suddenly faced by two fresh bandits emerging from the gloom, brandishing heavy mining picks. System immediately flashed amber warning icons over them, their trajectory lines converging on Bellweather.
"Bellweather, two incoming, your left!" Rhyse shouted, his voice sharper than he expected.
Bellweather, already reacting to the sounds, adjusted his stance just as the first pick swung. He deflected it, but the second attacker pressed hard. Rhyse moved to support him, striking quickly with his short sword, forcing the second attacker back. Vance joined the fray, and the two bandits didn't last long.
The initial melee was brutal and swift. The bandits, caught off guard and facing seasoned warriors, were no match. Within moments, the main room was secured, the remaining thugs groaning on the floor, disarmed and subdued.
"Clear!" Flint called out, her blade still ready.
"The back rooms," Vance ordered. "Burton won't have gone down this easily."
They moved deeper into the lodge, Rhyse now flanked closely by Vance and Bellweather. The stench of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and fear was stronger here. From a reinforced inner door, a panicked shout came.
"Stay back, or the wench gets it! I swear, I'll snap her neck!"
At that moment, the tactical display shifted, a portion of it zooming into the rough layout of the lodge's rear, a new red icon flashing. A larger, more intensely represented one. The System tagged him:
[Primary Target: "Mad Eyed Burton" - Rank 2 Bandit Lord. Status: Alerted, Enraged. Hostage Taken: Unknown Female (Civilian - Unharmed, Terrified).]
The situation had just become more complicated.
"Mad Eyed" Burton was a hulking brute of a man with a wild, bloodshot gaze and a truly unsettling facial tic, stood a a trembling figure clutched before him like a shield. It was a young woman from the village, her eyes wide with terror. Burton held a jagged piece of sharpened metal to her throat. He was clearly a Rank 2 Bandit, stronger than his men, but fear made him clumsy.
"Clever little rats, sneaking in here," Burton snarled, his one good eye glaring at them. "But you won't take me! One step closer, and she dies!"
Rhyse couldn't allow her to be harmed. Vance tensed, ready to charge, but Burton pressed the makeshift blade closer to the young villager's skin.
"Don't be foolish, Burton," Rhyse said, his voice surprisingly calm, the Basic Leadership Aura hopefully projecting some measure of authority. "You're outnumbered. There's no escape. Release her, and perhaps we will show mercy. You were once a hard-working foreman."
Burton laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Mercy? From Noble trash like you? You can't fool me! You move like warriors but I smell nobles all over you! Don't make me laugh, boy! You nobles are all the same! I take what's mine! She's my insurance!"
Rhyse needed to break the standoff. His personal ward was for him. But the Basic Ward… System, activate Basic Ward on the hostage!
[Activating System Effect: Basic Ward (Rank 0) on Designated Ally. Duration: 10 Minutes. Cost: 100 Gold Sovereigns.]
A faint, almost invisible shimmer coalesced around the woman. Burton, focused on Vance and Rhyse, didn't notice it immediately. "Last chance, Burton!" Rhyse called out. "Release her!"
"Never!" Burton roared, and made to drag the woman back, intending to use her as he retreated. As he tightened his grip and pulled, the sharpened metal scraped against her throat – and skittered harmlessly off the newly formed, unseen ward.
Burton stared in disbelief at the metal, then at woman, then at the empty air where the ward shimmered. "What… what sorcery is this?!"
That moment of stunned confusion was all Kaelen Vance needed. With a roar, the Vanguard surged forward. Burton, startled and his leverage negated by the ward, was too slow to react. Vance's Charged War-Glaive, no longer needing to hold back for fear of the hostage being harmed, whistled through the air in a devastating, precise arc. It connected with Burton's sword arm, then, in a brutal follow-up, with his neck. Mad Eyed Burton collapsed like a felled tree, his one good eye staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Rhyse wasn't sure if Vance recognized his ward, or if he had utter confidence of finishing Burton before he could harm the hostage. The woman stumbled free, gasping, her hand flying to her throat where the ward still faintly pulsed. Vance kicked the makeshift weapon away from Burton's corpse and stood protectively over her.
Flint and Bellweather quickly secured the rest of the lodge, finding a few more terrified thugs cowering in a back storage room, and, to Rhyse's grim satisfaction, a significant cache of hoarded grain, dried meats, and other supplies clearly extorted from Dawmoor and surrounding hamlets. More chillingly, in a locked side chamber, they found three terrified young women, not from Dawmoor, but from smaller, even more remote villages further into the moors – clearly taken by Burton for his own vile purposes.
As Flint knelt beside the freed women with the quiet efficiency of someone accustomed to offering comfort after battle, her voice a steady murmur reassurances about their safety and the promise of justice, the doorway darkened unexpectedly. Guinia stepped inside—her frail form still wrapped in the drab woolens of a village woman, her sharp eyes now glinting with something far more calculating. She'd shadowed the expedition from a cautious distance, avoiding the skirmish but positioning herself to witness its aftermath.
Rhyse felt her gaze as it fixed upon him, its usual wary skepticism now tempered by reluctant astonishment and, beneath that, something perilously close to awe. It prickled against the back of his neck—a sensation as foreign as it was instructive.
He turned his attention to their newly claimed territory, assessing the lodge's crude stone walls, the heavy beams blackened by decades of hearth smoke. It was a rough-hewn place, barely fit for quartering bandits, yet its position couldn't be denied: the mine entrance yawned mere footsteps beyond the threshold, a jagged maw into the earth that promised both strategic advantage and untapped potential. The realization settled in his chest with quiet certainty—this was no mere bandit den to be scoured and abandoned. This was a foothold.
The Synkar Cpre warmed subtly as if acknowledging the thought.
[Quest Update: The Dawmoor Revitalization - Sub-objective: Resolve Local Oppression (Enforcers) - COMPLETE.]
[Rewards Dispensed: Dawmoor Village Loyalty + Steadfast. Elder Timon & Guinia Designated as Key Local Contacts. +10 System Advancement. Proficiency Increase:
[Passive Skill: Grassroots Understanding (Rank 0)].]
[Personnel Contract Update: Kaelen Vance - Combat Effectiveness + Notable. Contribution to Objective + High. Potential for 'Protector's Resolve' Trait Unlocked. System Advancement towards Rank 3: + Significant.]
[Personnel Update: Petra Flint - Tactical Execution + Notable. Contribution to Objective + Moderate. System Advancement towards Rank 4: + Minor.]
[Personnel Contract Update: Torvin Bellweather - Courage Under Fire + Notable. Contribution to Objective + Moderate. System Advancement towards Rank 4: + Minor.]
The System rewards were immediate and satisfying, especially the advancement for Vance. Rhyse's mind, however, was already moving to the next step. This lodge, this mine entrance… it could be more than just a bandit den.
"Master Valerius isn't here," Rhyse said, half to himself, half to Vance, "but the need is clear. This place has to be under the Synkar."
He focused his intent. System, initiate new Development Project.
[New Task: Establish Synkar Outpost - Dawmoor Mines]
[Objective: Secure the former Mine Overseer's Lodge and surrounding mine entrance. Establish it as a fortified Synkar outpost for regional security, resource management, and as a base for further Dawmoor revitalization efforts.]
[Suggested Actions: Clear and Refortify Lodge (using local labor/materials, supplemented by System funds). Assign Garrison (from newly formed local militia or redeployed Synkar assets). Re-open Mine Adit (requires geological survey & engineering assessment - link to Revitalization Quest). Establish Secure Comms Relay.]
[Budget Allocation (Initial): 5,000 Gold Sovereigns from Synkar Network.]
[Rewards: [Synkar Outpost: Dawmoor Mines (Rank 0) established], Increased Regional Security Rating, Further Loyalty Gains (Dawmoor), Access to Local Resources, Specialized System Advancement (Stewardship/Logistics).]
[Accept Task? Y/N]
Yes.
[5,000 Gold Earmarked. Ducal Order 003 (Establish Dawmoor Outpost) Generated. Authenticated. Transmitting to Office of the Seneschal & relevant Synkar Guilds for resourcing and personnel allocation upon Lord Rhyse's official directive via comms.]
He wouldn't return to Dawmoor village itself immediately. His path lay north. But he had laid the groundwork.
Guinia approached him, the rescued women clinging to her. "My lord… we… thank you. These women… they are from Oakhaven and Stillwater. I will see them safely back to their homes. And I will ensure everyone in Dawmoor, and beyond, knows what you have done for us this day." Her eyes shone with a fierce, newfound loyalty. Although Rhyse didn't spoke to her directly about the Synkar, she pierced things together. This young man was probably a Baron's son vassal to the Synkar.
Rhyse nodded, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with his Leadership Aura. "See to their safety, Guinia. Dawmoor will be protected."
After handing over the lodge goods to the villagers, with the lodge secured by Vance, Flint, and Bellweather, the surviving bandits were tied and left in jail. Rhyse and his core team finally mounted their newly acquired ponies. The sun was fully risen now, casting long shadows from the rugged tors.
The journey to the Northern Checkpoint had been delayed, but Rhyse felt no regret. He had faced down thugs, rescued innocents, and taken his first true step as a lord of his domain, not just an heir in hiding. The taste of it was potent. As they rode north, the wind carried the distant sounds of Dawmoor beginning a new day, a day with a little more hope, bought with Synkar gold and Synkar resolve.