A robed man speaks, "Child, do not resist, you must join. The Unnamed One welcomes those who walk the Ascended Path. Through death, through trial, through rebirth, you will find salvation in this desolate world."
Ryn's jaw was tight, holding up one arm in front of her, "I said I am not interested in joining your faction."
"Salvation is not a matter of interest; it is a matter of destiny."
Argent's voice cut across the night air as he approached the group of men, "She said no. So be on your way."
All four turned towards him. Ryn let out a shaky breath as relief washed over her face.
One of the men, wearing a full set of armor not unlike that of a knight, snorted, "New blood, you do not know who you are speaking to. See this symbol?" Pointing to the pyramid and the flame encircling it. "We are the Ascended Path, the chosen of the Unnamed One."
Argent kept walking forward, "Don't care who you are or who you represent, she said no to joining your faction. You got the answer. I am not going to tell you to leave again."
"I am High Inquisitor Seymoore. I lead those on the path to salvation. She must walk the path. If need be, I could have forty templars here at a moment's notice. It is you who needs to back off."
He nodded to one of the armored men. The man grabbed Ryn's arm hard, wrenching it upwards. She winced at the sudden pain.
Argent lept forward at the men, holding out his left hand as he did with the giant. Searing bright white light erupted from his palm. One of the armored men staggered, clutching his face, shouting, eyes seared shut.
Before anyone could react, Argent had already closed in and took the blinded man's sword, swinging for his neck as shadow trailed behind the blade. With a thud, the templar's body faded into particles floating up in the night sky.
The inquisitor turned back towards the templar holding Ryn, "Take her and leave....what?"
What he saw was more particles floating up as Ryn stood there holding a makeshift arrow firmly in her hand, blood dripping from the tip.
Seymoore and his remaining templar moved to make space between Argent and Ryn. The calm on his face broke, his face twisted. "We underestimated you. But you have made a grave mistake. You and your friend here will die, again and again and again. Until repetence takes root and you come to see our ways."
Argent couldn't help but laugh, "You can surely try."
Before anyone could move or say anything else, footsteps echoed around them. From the dark came six figures, shapes Argent and Ryn knew instantly.
Ferric, Ward, Rime, Cinder, Veyra, Veryn.
Ward spoke first, voice low. "You think we are scared of dying?"
Ferric grinned. "The whole camp is gossiping about how we are the crazy ones who keep going no matter how broken we are."
Veyra crossed her arms. "We do not care who you are."
Veyrn followed. "Or how many men you can call with a command."
Rime smirked. "You might kill us a few times, sure."
"Eventually, we will get you, one cut, one painful stab," Argent said smugly.
Ryn, calm now, "One slow death at a time, we will get you, because that is who we are."
Cinder looked around, realising everyone had said something, and she blurted, "Yea! yea...you...you ugly face!"
There was a pause, then laughter burst out from the other seven, especially Ryn.
The inquisitor's expression filled with rage as he looked at his remaining templar. "You have made an enemy of the Path tonight. You will find out just how much of a problem that will be."
Argent rolled his eyes, "Good, I am making a list, I will make sure to put your name at the top."
The two scurried off into the night.
Argent went over to Ryn, who was rubbing her arm. "You alright? When you weren't at the camp, I had a bad feeling."
Ryn smiled, cheeks a little flushed. "Yeah, I am fine, I just came to get more arrows, wanted to be ready, and those men came and said they had heard I was in the group that didn't die the first day, wanted me to join their faction."
Cinder shouted from behind, "Next time, come get me, I'll help!"
Veyra interrupted, "Hey, don't forget me, I'll come too!"
Ward hits Argent's shoulder, "Come on, let's get back to camp, me and Ferric got a keg from some veterans at the pub, and you know the stew has to be ready by now."
The group started heading back toward the fire, voices rising again, laughter filling the air.
***
High on a hill overlooking the weapon pile on the edge of the outskirts stood a figure. Big, imposing. If giants weren't real, this man would be considered one. Shoulders wider than two men. He was covered head to toe in thick crimson armor, and on it was stamped an iron helm with musical notes circling around it.
Beside him, another familiar figure stepped out from the darkness, Mugwort. In a voice much less sporadic and less jumbled than usual. "I'm glad you didn't step in Grey. Last thing this world needs is for the Chorus to start a war with the Path."
"They handled it. I see why you have taken an interest in them. Besides, what are you doing here? You weren't thinking of helping them, were you...Stew-keeper?"
Mugwort's tone stayed calm and serious, "Those children are special. I thought they may need help before they get their footing in this world. Seems I was wrong."
"Ha! That's a first. You're admitting you were wrong!" Grey's shoulders stiffened. "If my stepping in would have caused a war between factions, you stepping in would have turned this whole province to ashes and ruins."
For a single heartbeat, Mugwort stared straight ahead, then the familiar, clumsy, aloof expression washed over his face. Madness creeping back into his voice. "But ash makes for such good stew, you know! Adds body! And it's good for you!"
He turned and twirled his spoon like a cane as he wandered back down the hill, humming an off-key tune.