The room quietened at the mention of a spellsword. Rayne heard a gasp to his right but didn't turn to see who it was. He simply stared into Captain Baker's eyes and saw stark fear in them. The old man moved his hand to take another sip of the watered wine.

  Rayne racked his brain, trying to remember where he'd heard the word before he recalled his conversation with Casper. A spellsword was basically someone who could use mana skills. Captain Edran was one.

  Although they weren't as destructive as a proper mage, they were known to be dangerous warriors. If the leader of the deserters was one, he could understand why Baker looked terrified of him.

  “A spellsword!” Jason said, breaking the growing silence. “What is a spellsword doing deserting? I thought they were treated like kings by the army. Even noble houses covet them because of their strength.”

  Captain Baker agreed with a nod. “So, you understand why we could do nothing but listen to the bloody deserters. It's all because of Marcus. Even if our numbers are equal, the scale is tipped heavily in their favour just because of the existence of that man. He could cleave through a shield line in just one move.”

  “The party we sent out at first—he killed them all but one, and they were some of our best fighters and seasoned duelists,” Jeff said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He left one of them alive to tell the tale. And he still hasn't recovered mentally from that fight. According to him, Marcus’ sword burned with flames, and no one could trace his movements.”

  Rayne noted that information in his mind. Marcus had a sword mana skill and probably some sort of movement skill. Whether it used mana as well, Rayne couldn't tell, but he was leaning towards that.

  “What's his level? Has he broken through the first wall?” he asked, leaning forward.

  Captain Baker gave a wistful sigh. “I don't think he has, but he should be close to it. Apparently, he's fairly young and a commoner who simply had too much talent for his station. I have no idea why such a person decided to desert, but I know we can't take him on.”

  “So, you plan to simply feed him and his men and not take any action?” Kesh said, getting a glare from Baker.

  The man shrunk in his seat. “If I could, I would stab him in the heart. We just can't. We are powerless, and with him killing the runners, we can't ask help from the army. Honestly, if you all could report it to the frontlines, I would love nothing more than that. But I never mentioned it to you all because…”

  Captain Baker didn't finish the sentence. His eyes went back to his plate of steak, and he wordlessly started to cut into it. Rayne met eyes with his party, and all of them knew what the last part of his sentence was going to be.

  He hadn't asked for help because he didn't think they would make it to the frontlines.

  If Rayne was correct, the deserters had been spying on them through their way to Bricksall, probably expecting a supply team to come, and would be killing them to take all the supplies on the way back.

  He almost felt glad that he had decided to investigate. Otherwise, they would be marching back to their pyres.

  “You were just sending us to our deaths,” Nate said, giving a murderous glare to both Baker and Jeff. “Was the dinner your idea for a last good meal?”

  “What difference would it have made?” Baker asked back. “Even I know the deserters want more supplies. They complained when I gave them a good chunk of it. If they haven't gotten them from you, it would be from the town. And I can't afford an attack on Bricksall. I have lived here for a decade now, and whatever you think of me, I'm not going to put it to harm.”

  Rayne frowned. “So, it was either us or the town.”

  Both Baker and Jeff nodded reluctantly. The former simply continued to chew into the meat while refusing to meet eyes with any of them. The latter just gave an apologetic smile.

  “Just eat, kid,” Baker said finally. “There's no solution right now until one of you is a spellsword too. Now that you know of the situation, I won't berate you for choosing to stay in the town or leaving. I just hope you will think of the men and women living peacefully here.”

  The image of Mona flashed across his eyes for a second before it was replaced by the image of the dead family. Anger bubbled up inside him alongside numerous other emotions. But Rayne did only one thing.

  He ate, sipping on the wine and letting it burn his throat. He didn't like the taste, but after the conversation, he didn't have the energy to complain.

  The others did the same. From time to time, Jason asked more questions about Marcus and the deserters, but Baker kept the answers to single sentences, not willing to talk more about the topic.

  That angered the brute-looking man, who left the meal first, not bothering to even give a salute to Baker. He simply strode out of the room and banged it closed.

  No one reacted to it as the meal came to its end. But as Rayne took the last bite out of his steak, Nate leaned towards him.

  “If you actually are a spellsword hiding your skills, it's a good time to reveal it.”

  Unfortunately, he wasn't one. Not yet.

  ***

  Rayne sat cross-legged on the floor of his room. His breathing slowed, steady, as he pressed inward, feeling the faint embers of mana. Threads of energy shimmered in his core, a faint current flowing through the pathway he'd already opened. He traced it carefully, mapping the familiar path, then pushed toward the one reaching across his left shoulder.

  If he could pierce it, he could expand his mana reserves.

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  He'd already been at it for an hour with no success, but he quietly followed the method taught by Casper. Patience was a virtue in mana cultivation, and he needed to go at it slowly.

  He steadied his hands on his knees and drew in a long breath.

  Focus. Anchor the flow. Pull it through slowly.

  The mana shivered at his call. He pushed it against the blockage, but it stood firm like a dam. Sweat prickled his brow. He pressed harder.

  Rayne slowly reached a quarter of the way, then willed it to reach the halfway point. Embers of mana slowly cleared the pathway, but then a name rose unbidden in his mind.

  Marcus.

  The flow wavered. The images of him and the rest of the deserters killing the family and hanging them hit his concentration. Pain jolted his core and he almost fell to the floor.

  Rayne grit his teeth, forcing the thought aside. “Not now,” he muttered.

  He pulled again at the mana, grinding it against the sealed channel despite the pain.

  Then Marcus’s name intruded again. The mana scattered, slipping from his grasp. The pressure collapsed into nothing and he fell on the floor.

  He opened his eyes, feeling mana shrivel back to his core, and cursed under his breath.

  The conversation over dinner echoed in his head and he finally accepted that he wasn't going to be able to open up the pathway anytime soon. But Rayne didn't even know if he was going to get another chance.

  He pushed himself up from the floor, moving to sit on the bed. It had been hours since the dinner and he had simply come back to his assigned room, thoughts in disarray. Unable to sleep, he had decided to open up another pathway tonight.

  But it seemed like even that wasn't possible.

  Rayne kept wondering what he was going to do now. Was he going to stay in the town? Or go back and try to escape from the deserters? The first option was surely going to get the deserters to attack the town and the second option didn't seem feasible.

  If they didn't return, Captain Edran would at least take two weeks to send a party to investigate what had happened, and the deserters might simply kill them too.

  No, he couldn't rely on anyone else. If he wanted to survive, Rayne needed to think of a way out himself. Despite his inflated strength, he had no confidence in standing up to a spellsword.

  He had no practice against mana users and would be killed instantly.

  But then what was the way?

  No matter how much he thought, Rayne wasn't able to figure it out. Hence, he made himself busy. At least his mind wouldn't be plagued by worries then.

  He moved up to the table and opened the ledger and started going through it again. Whoever had been responsible for it was far more capable than the men back in the warband. There were no mathematical mistakes, and everything was done systematically.

  Maybe that's why he was able to finish through it fast.

  Not wanting to go through it again, Rayne opened the map to Bricksall and started to figure out if he could find a path that would get them back to Fort Algar. Once they got there, they wouldn't have to fear the deserters.

  But there were no hidden paths.

  They might be able to move through the forests, but Rayne had a feeling the deserters would have placed scouts there. If they took the main road, they would simply be able to snipe them out through the trees, and if they ran through the forest, they could easily be ambushed.

  They wouldn't be able to run for an entire day anyway and the deserters had numbers on them.

  Rayne kept racking his brain, but every single idea felt too stupid and full of loopholes. At that moment, he realized how powerless he was. Killing trolls and winning against Fredrick might have given him confidence, but against mana users, he was just a mortal.

  The reality of it pressed down on him and he wanted to go out, to practice his sword, to get better. But one night of practice wouldn't solve his problems. Hence, he kept studying the map. The pathways, how far the forest stretched, the caves around Bricksall, the monster nests… until his finger paused mid air at the edge of the map.

  His eyes narrowed and out of nowhere, an idea bubbled up inside of him.

  It felt crazy and dangerous with no set chance of success, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like it might just be their way out of this mess.

  Rayne stood up, folded the map and promptly headed out of the room.

  He knocked on the adjacent one and it opened the next second, revealing Jason and Nate and Kesh. Behind them, Heins, John, Quinn and Welix sat on the floor and bed. Their faces looked pale and concerned. They had been briefed on everything.

  “Come in,” Kesh said. “We were just about to call you.”

  Rayne walked inside as Kesh closed the door before moving to lean against the table. “Were you discussing the deserters?”

  Jason nodded. “Yes. Welix wants to run away to the edge of the Pascar plains to ask for help from a fort there. Says he can get help in a week.”

  Welix grunted. “And Jason is saying that's a stupid idea when he has none of his own.”

  “I told you my idea and all of you rejected it without even hearing it completely.”

  Nate snorted. “Because you said to ambush the deserters. Even if we manage to kill a few, that Marcus guy would burn us all down.”

  “We need to try. Do you all have any other options?” Jason barked, looking at each of them. “No, you don't. We can't run, we can't get any help. What can we even—”

  “I have a plan,” Rayne said, cutting the giant off and at once every pair of eyes turned toward him. For a moment, he even saw hope flickering in them.

  “Why are you silent? Spit out whatever you thought of,” John said, getting a nod from Heins and Nate. “But don't do it if it's on the same line as Welix or Jason's ideas. Both are just aiming for which of their ideas gets us killed faster.”

  Rayne smiled. “Actually it is. More like Jason's idea than Welix. I don't think we can run or look for help. The deserters should have scouts around the town and Quinn didn't even find human tracks, which means they are skilled enough to hide them.”

  Quinn nodded with a frown. He'd been quieter than usual, probably having come to the same conclusion.

  “Your idea is for us to face the deserters?” Nate asked. “Because that's what Jason keeps yapping about.”

  “Yes, but I have a plan that actually gives us a chance of success, especially if we manage to convince Baker, which shouldn't be hard.”

  Jason took a step forward. “What is it?”

  Rayne didn't reply at once, taking a breath and streamlining the thoughts in his head. The idea was dangerous and if he wanted everyone's cooperation, he needed to be able to explain it right.

  He crouched on the floor and opened the map for everyone to see.

  All of them leaned toward it and he moved to explain. The more he did, the more horrified their expressions became, but none of them interrupted or disagreed. And that flicker of hope he saw in their eyes slowly flashed brighter.

  ***