Shapeless Hero

5 - Concerns

The heavily armored horse riders announce their approach with hundreds of hooves hitting forest soil in a staccato of thumps. Speed over discretion is dictated by the Imperial guidelines, when an S-class magic circle has been spotted.

The commander of fifty elites frowns at the spellcaster riding alongside her. Thankfully, her face is hidden behind the helmet. The last person who should falter or hesitate is her, the leader of the unit. "Did I hear you right, lad? Teleportation of divine nature?" Her rough highlander accent makes the question sound more threatening then it should be.

"Y-yes, commander. I've compared it with data from another scout. The margin of error is minute, I'm afraid."

"By the Emperor's ring-mu... that feather-ball is the smallest of our concerns then!"

"High-Clerics of the Federation maybe?", the spellcaster asks in an attempt to be helpful.

"Not out here in the forest. They have too many issues at their northern borders. That said, special forces of a different nation doesn't sound to far off. In any case, a change of plans is needed. Thank you. Get back in position."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The commander taps her helmet with her index finger. A magic circle for message spells spawns at her side of the head. "One, six, seventeen, twenty-three and thirty-five, get to me for further instructions! The rest surrounds the clearing. We'll try to talk with the aggressor first. If negotiations fail... cast Banishment on the clearing and report everything directly to the Emperor. Confirm."

"Not just the targets, but the whole clearing, ma'am?" the spellcaster behind her asks, worry in the voice.

"Yes. Just to be safe, the whole bloody spot. Unknown divine-rankers are too dangerous to be left unaddressed, even within the vast lands around the Imperium. Confirm."

The commander receives forty-nine confirmations and deactivates the magic circle. She jumps off her steed after finding a good spot for a meeting. As she waits for the other five to arrive, she monitors the status of her subordinates through the mental projection of a heads-up display. "Look at them. Protection Shield, Circle Charge and Precast Speed, just like we did back then..." A smile creeps onto the seasoned warriors face as memories of a simpler time resurface.

Within half of a minute, six figures stand in a circle between the trees, each with a warhorse at their side. Scout, Caster, Healer, Protector, Ranger and the commander as Warrior—all six classes are present for this briefing, as defined by Imperial laws. The five arrivals salute the commander.

The commander nods. "You know the situation. I don't want to be responsible for some geo-political mess. We will go to the glade on foot as this small group to show our amicable intentions. Best case scenario: We talk it out and everyone wins. Worst case scenario: Banishment. Whatever escapes that spell, we six will take care of it. This way, the rest have more time to retreat and report the findings. Confirm."

The five nod.

"Good. Oh, and remember: No one is allowed to speak to the targets, except for me. They might try to provoke you, in hopes you say something they can use against the Imperium. Confirm."

The five nod, a bit slower this time.

"Very well. We're done here. Let's get moving. The next round of ale is on me, once we're back in Caldanyr."

Some muffled cheers can be heard as everyone gets into formation behind the commander. She is perhaps the most nervous person in the unit, which is probably a good thing in terms of morale management. With careful footsteps the six make their way towards the glade, leaving their horses behind, their mounts thankful for the break after miles of hurry.