Chapter 4

It had been six long years since young Donovan had joined up with the Church order. The young man, now sixteen, was much different than his younger self. He had grown much taller, and his build had increased threefold. Once a scrawny little boy he now had broad shoulders, large forearms, and an indispensable amount of knowledge. He looked quite formidable in his armor, and didn't have the walk and stagger of a traditional carefree sixteen year old. He still had small burgundy freckles upon his face, but they were a bit more faded than when he was just a child. He still kept his autumnal hair short and messy, but it was a bit longer in the back.

He knew some basic spells, but more importantly he was turning into a skilled warrior. His fighting style was not only proficient, but also quite vicious. During exercises he did not let up, strongly desiring to be the victor. He attacked his foes with extreme vigor, using all of his might to its fullest. In addition to this, a temper had begun to brew within the young man, which showed from time to time in loud outbursts of frustration.

The life of a young Church trainee was devoted solely to the teachings of the Cloth up until the age of sixteen. After that age, the occasional mission would be part of his or her weekly list of duties. These missions usually were the simpler and less dangerous of the Holy Protectorate tasks. Caravan support, scouting missions, and interior town guard detail were all examples of these kinds of missions.

At this age, they began to wear a lower class of metallic armor for their guard detail as well. Donovan seemed to prefer the thin iron armor he now wore compared to his leather suit of old. It felt lighter than the training suit and seemed to handle much more punishment when the need arose. Having a functional helm was a bonus as well.

This week's task was to help guard a family which was moving from the city of Gestalt to the larger city of Solitude to the south. Donovan had never been able to visit any other city other than his hometown and was excited to see what Solitude might have to offer. He had read in the Church library that the population of Solitude was much richer than that of Gestalt. Large extravagant estates overtook entire town districts, and luxury items such as foreign fruits and exotic baubles could be found in the local shops. He had also heard from the older guardsmen that the women of Solitude were quite beautiful in their own right.

Accompanying the caravan was a party of five Protectorate members. In addition to Donovan, his friend Sidney and two older warrior guardsmen were given the same protection duty. The final member of the party was a female mage in her mid-twenties. Named Marissa, she had been part of the Church since she was but age five. Being an orphan of a union between a guardsman and his wife, she had been automatically entrusted to the care of the Church by law after her parents' deaths.

Marissa being a mage, had similar features to those of her class. Quite plain looking, her skin was a pale pink, mostly from all the time spent indoors studying mystic books. Her hair was dark black, which she kept trimmed very short but never tied up. Small strands of hair draped her face like wet icicles. Her eyes were a piercing golden brown with distinct jet black eyebrows above them. Her lips were very thin and she always had a pensive look to her demeanor. She wore a sorrowful expression upon her face almost every day, and a few wrinkles could be seen upon her face due to the intensity of emotions involved with her craft.

Her wardrobe also differed from that of her warrior party members. She wore long white satin pantaloons that billowed out at the bottom. Around these pantaloons, a thin spiraled strip of heavy leather loosely wound up each leg from her ankles to her belt. She wore a soft blue woolen vest upon a long golden shirt that stuck out below the vest. Her arms were bare, and under her pantaloons she wore tall leather boots with heavy soles. Marissa's weapon of choice was a staff about four feet long that she kept tied to her back. It was made from a gnarled strip of pine, and was also wrapped with a spiraling strip of leather similar to her legs.

Since she was the senior member of the party for this mission, she took the lead in assigning duties to the others. The family that was moving between towns had packed up two horse drawn wagons worth of belongings, and all six members climbed aboard. Only one of the Protectorate, one of the veterans, rode on horseback. The other members were delegated to walking alongside the caravan while the Marissa rode on the rear wagon.

They were led out of the village's southern gate a few hours after dawn. It was a two-day trip to Solitude, with a single night of camping between here and there. The road to Solitude led through the grassy plains of the area. Wide open fields of grain and grazing land stretched as far as the eye could see.

Farmers and the like of this area were delegated to work and live outside of the city walls. It was their role in life to be without the protection of any local guard and without the security of the city's physical defenses.

The farming life was a rough existence. Without constant protection, farmers had to deal with more than the occasional event involving Pontia or animals from the wild.

Sidney knew this all too well, growing up on a farm himself. No great harm had ever come to himself or his family while tending to the fields, and for that he was grateful. An attack from a wild boar or bear was most assuredly a difficult affair, but the beasts were always drawn away or killed in the end. Luckily, he and his family had never had the misfortune to deal with a visit from a Pontian creature. The only serious threat he had witnessed was the single time his family defended themselves from a roaming band of thieves. Sidney's family had been fortunate in this regard for most of their lives.

On the road to Solitude, one of the veteran guard members began to speak with Marissa. He tried to strike up a conversation about her beauty and tried desperately to coo her. She was obviously disinterested in what the warrior had to say, having shunned most attempts at courting throughout her life. The warrior continued speaking his sweet nothings, and Marissa continued to ignore him.

Donovan overheard the veteran, and didn't quite understand his motivations. He had never thought to bother looking for love while on duty. In fact, he hadn't put much thought into whether to bother with love at all. He assumed that as men aged, they got more and more enthusiastic for companionship. He wondered if and when he would get to that point in his life.

The first day had already come and gone, and it was midway through the second. The sun had passed the halfway point in the sky, and it had begun its eventual journey down into the horizon. They had stopped to eat a few hours ago, and each of them was fairly rested so that they could continue on with their journey.

While they were moving along, the caravan came across a weeping woman in the middle of their path. She was of old age; her white hair very thin and ragged. Great big tears fell down her face, and each of them were absorbed into the many wrinkles within her cheeks.

"Please… you must help!" she yelped. "My, my husband. He was at-attacked. Help, I-I don't know what to do. Who can help, who can help me? He can't be saved!" She continued to cry.

Marissa disembarked from the rear wagon and approached the woman. With a slow pass of her hand, the woman appeared to calm down. She asked her a few questions to which the woman replied, hesitating between each answer as she took short breaths in order to speak the words. After Marissa appeared to understand the situation, she began to speak to the party.

"This woman and her husband own a cattle farm a few hundred yards to the west of this road. It appears that a short while ago a large Pontia invaded their homestead and began to attack their livestock. Her husband went to the fields to wrestle with the beast, but appeared to have little success. Not knowing what to do, she ran towards the road in a panic.

"As is our duty, we must investigate these matters before we can move on. One of us will stay behind.

"You," she pointed to the guard on horseback. "You will stay here to guard the caravan. The rest of us will move to the farm and see what we can do about the situation. I will have point, so listen to my commands before acting. We don't know what breed of Pontia this creature is and do not yet know how to counter its attacks.

"Let's get moving," she said with a surprisingly calm voice.

The last time that Donovan had seen a Pontia was the incident involving the child in the roadway outside his bakery. The thought of seeing a larger beast and engaging it, caused his heart to skip a beat. He calmed himself via focus, and reassessed to himself his duty within this world. His job was to protect his people. This farmer's family was part of the people, and therefore deserving of protection.

He would face this beast, he thought to himself.

He would face this beast head on.

Continue to Chapter 4 - continued