Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

C-CRASH!
 
“Shit, it’s the Hero, he’s here!”
 
“What?! How did they find us?!”
 
“Fuck! To arms! To arms, for fuck’s sake!”
 
Having kicked open the doors to the tavern-turned-fortress, Marcus looks around, eyes narrowed as the bandits within begin to rally in the face of his sudden appearance. Or rather, some of the bandits begin to rally.
 
They might be an organized rabble, but elite soldiers they were not. Several of the bandits take one look at Marcus standing there in his gleaming armor, wielding his glowing halberd with deadly intent… and then turn to run. Marcus is fully ready to let them go, well aware that Erised is watching the back door and won’t let them escape, but before they can even get a dozen feet…
 
TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!
 
Three of the bandits trying to pull a runner go down with crossbow bolts in their backs as a hulking man with a scar across his face steps up to the upper floor railing. As Marcus lifts his eyes to meet the man’s gaze, the bruiser snarls.
 
“Stand and fight, scum!”
 
That bit of intimidation rallies the rest of the bandits. Some pull out crossbows of their own, hastily loading them if they’re far enough away from Marcus at the front door. The others, those who judge themselves to be too close, stick to melee weapons like swords and cudgels. Running forward, they swing them with little skill or ability.
 
And sure, maybe Marcus isn’t one to talk. It’s only been six weeks now since he left the Capital. Six weeks since he Awakened in that Chapel. Six weeks of fighting bandits wherever he and his girls could find them. He hadn’t even received any training in how to fight, despite knowing all of his self-taught swordplay was absolute shit. But hey… turned out that once he Awakened, he was a quick learner. Lightning fast, even.
 
With the reach on his halberd, he skewers the first two bandits before they can even reach them, sending them to the ground with a simple thrust and twist before pulling back and adjusting his posture. A few crossbow bolts ping off of his armor, but the holy enchantments imbued in both the metal and the leather deflect them with ease. He doesn’t have to worry all that much about defense. It feels a little bit like cheating, but he can’t really bring himself to care about fairness when his opponents are the scum of the earth.
 
As Marcus works his way through the bandits before him, he reflects on the past four weeks and what had led him, Angelina, and Erised to this particular village. Though really, it was less of a village and more a den of depravity. Angelina’s words, to be clear. The Holy Priestess had only grown more and more incensed as they’d started visiting the settlements on Erised’s list.
 
It turned out that the informants in the villages weren’t really informants at all. Rather, they were the ringleaders of the entire organization. That list of names Erised had deciphered definitely wasn’t something they would have allowed to exist if they’d known about it, but apparently Marcus and his party had gotten really lucky and happened upon the one ‘genius’ bandit who had plans of performing a coup or something. Or maybe he intended on blackmailing the bandit leaders into paying him off.
 
In the end, it didn’t really matter. That bandit was dead and all of his information gathering had ultimately been turned to serving the greater good. The information network didn’t just go both ways, it was centered around those people who were living in the villages, hiding out among normal townsfolk and coordinating the bandits that were populating the woods.
 
Over the course of the last four weeks, they’d followed Erised’s lead and tried to be a bit stealthier when it came to covering their tracks and hiding what they knew. And to Marcus’ mild surprise, it had worked. With Erised’s skill at subterfuge, they had managed to keep from being found out, even as they dealt with ringleader after ringleader.
 
Until finally, the trail had led them here. Located not quite at the border, but pretty far from the Capital, this town was apparently perfectly situated for the bandits and their purposes. They’d made this tavern in particular their base of operations, and it was from here that every bandit in the region had apparently gotten their start. This was the hub. Take it out and they stood a good chance of finishing off the bandit threat to the Empire altogether.
 
Or at least quelling it for a time. As Marcus swings his halberd around, hooking the legs out from one bandit, disemboweling another, and finally bringing the blade back around and down upon the gut of the first, he reflects that he’s done a lot of killing these past six weeks. Each of the ringleaders had known exactly where the bandit camps under their command were going to relocate to. And maybe Angelina’s words had gotten to him, but Marcus hated the thought of leaving a job unfinished. So yeah, they’d cleared them out as they went along.
 
Things had been messy, and brutal, and all around… a slaughter. Marcus might have been new to all of this, but his Job did a lot of the heavy lifting. So did his armor and weapons. He had yet to meet a man who could outclass him in a fight, even after all these weeks. Sometimes, it didn’t feel earned. It felt like he wasn’t doing anything himself, but rather letting his Job lead the way. But no. It was he who wielded his Job, just as it was he who wielded his weapons.
 
In the end, it might not have felt earned, but it did feel pretty fucking good. Destroying scum. Removing them all from the world. Rapists and murderers one and all. Thieving was what it was. Marcus didn’t think stealing from people just trying to survive was the best way to go about things, but it was a harsh world and sometimes the thieves themselves were just trying to survive as well.
 
But the atrocities he’d seen the aftermath of weren’t about survival. They didn’t rape and defile innocent travelers because they needed to, they did it because they wanted to. They weren’t desperate urchins scrambling for scraps, they were laughing, jeering monsters in human skin, getting fat off of the hard work of farmers and merchants.
 
And Marcus… Marcus was pretty sure he’d found their leader. The large scarred man on the upper landing had fired his crossbow at Marcus three times over the course of the ensuing fight, clearly hoping to get a lucky shot on the half-orc while he was distracted with the other men. None of the bolts had actually managed to hit, however. Marcus’ armor made him immune to all ranged attacks so far.
 
Now though, as more and more of the bandits in the tavern’s main room fall to Marcus’ halberd, the scarred man snarls and tosses the crossbow aside, before picking up a massive war maul he’d had resting on the railing. Marcus hadn’t noticed it until now… until the man suddenly leaps over the railing and brings the maul crashing into the ground before him to absorb some of the fall. As his muscles bulge under his studded leather armor, he sneers as he gazes at Marcus.
 
This is a man with a proper martial Job. Maybe even something like Knight, though it was obvious he wasn’t using it for the right things. As he rolls his shoulders, Marcus can see just how fit he is… how strong he is. This is no common bandit. He HAS to be the one in charge here. Kill him, and Marcus has properly cut the head off the snake at long last.
 
A wicked grin spreads across Marcus’ face and he lifts his glowing halberd, pointing it directly at the scarred man. It only makes his opponent sneer harder, even as he hoists his maul up off the ground. The tension is palpable and the air is energized as they size one another up. Just the two of them now and-
 
“What’s going on out here? What’s all this then?”
 
Marcus blinks, pulled from the moment by a pompous sounding voice coming from the second floor. He looks up at the same time that the scarred bandit does, to take in the visage of a young man in ostentatious clothing, dressed like the nobility that Bishop Archibald had tried to introduce Marcus to all those weeks ago. He might not have remembered any of their faces or names, but he’d remembered the clothes for some reason. Oh yes, he’d remembered the clothes.
 
“Just taking out the trash, milord. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
 
The man in front of Marcus speaks once more, and the half-orc finds himself noting that his voice sounds just as gravelly and scarred as his visage does now that Marcus isn’t focused on fighting. For a brief moment, the young man up on the second floor frowns… then, he seems to realize something as he takes in Marcus’ appearance, and his face suddenly brightens up considerably.
 
“You… you’re the new Destined Hero! Sir Hero, oh what a relief! I’ve been held prisoner by these brigands for several months now, all because they refuse my lordly father’s proper ransom offers! Please Sir Hero, if you rescue me from their clutches, I can assure you that you will be justly rewarded!”
 
Marcus blinks stupidly, taken aback for a moment. Wait, the nobleman was a… prisoner? It made sense, he supposed. Why else would someone dressed so richly be in a place like this? Only, why wasn’t he bound? Why was he allowed to roam free? Was he just not considered a flight risk or something? Looking at him, Marcus supposed he could see it. He didn’t look like he’d had been in a single fight in his entire life.
 
Still, something wasn’t adding up. And luckily, Marcus catches a glimpse of the betrayal on the scarred bandit’s face before he wipes it away and tries to play along.
 
“Back in your room, lordling! Hero or not, this one isn’t going to be saving you today!”
 
An actor this bandit is not. He’s probably much better as muscle. Marcus’ jaw clenches as the maul-wielding bandit tenses, looking like he’s about to surge forward. Before he can, the half-orc scoffs and speaks up.
 
“You both must think of me as a fool. The little orphan hero, so easily tricked. I’m not an idiot. And you’re not the bandit leader… YOU are.”
 
When he starts talking, it stops them both in their tracks. By the end, as he points first at the scarred bandit and then up at the lordling, they both freeze up. It wasn’t as though their deception was very well done. Marcus didn’t have to be a genius to see through their lies, even if he HAD almost been taken in by them all the same. There was just one problem… he honestly didn’t see WHY a nobleman would be out here consorting with bandits!
 
There’s another brief pause… and then, much to Marcus’ stupefaction, the young lord up on the second floor laughs and begins to clap.
 
“Well done, Sir Hero! Well done! You’ve seen through the ruse… you’ve passed the test! Yes, all of this was a game, you see. A way of assessing your abilities to see if you were ready for the REAL fight. The Church was in on it of course. And my father and the rest of the Nobility as well, I suspect you’ll find. You’ve passed with flying colors, of course!”
 
Marcus just stares at the nobleman blankly. Does he… honestly think Marcus would fall for that? After the half-orc just exposed the last ruse too? Funnily enough, before Marcus can call him out… again, it’s the scarred bandit that speaks up.
 
“He’s not falling for it, milord.”
 
The bright sunny grin on the young nobleman’s face abruptly falls away and he scowls fiercely as he stares down at Marcus, his gaze suddenly turning calculating.
 
“Yes, I can see that Bernard. Tch. What a pain. Tell me, Sir Hero… do you know who I am? Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
 
For a moment, Marcus contemplates treating this conversation with some degree of civility, an instinct ingrained from a lifetime of being taught to respect and defer to the Nobility at all times. They were intrinsically better than him and his fellow orphans, or so they’d always been told. Of course, now Marcus was the Destined Hero… or the Dark Lord, or whatever. And more than that, as he stands there staring up at this young lord, a thousand memories of defiled corpses and unavenged atrocities sing through his head.
 
Marcus has seen some shit these past six weeks. And so when he responds, it is not with civility, respect, or deference.
 
“Two dead men, by my reckoning.”
 
To his mild surprise, that actually gets a snort of amusement from the scarred bandit. It does NOT amuse the lordling, however. Incensed, the young nobleman’s nostrils flare as he clutches at the railing.
 
“Fool! I am the fourth son of Baron Arthur Graham, ruler of these lands! I am Lord Robert Graham If I want to deputize some men to act as tax collectors from my father’s subjects, I am well within my rights to do so! YOU are the one trespassing here! Persist and I will tell my father, and HE will turn the entire Holy Empire against you for this heavy handed foolishness!”
 
… It’s a lot to take in. Specifically, the realization that the organization of bandits Marcus and his party have been dealing with these past six weeks are all working at the behest of an actual nobleman. Until now, he’d assumed the bandits were all… well, the bottom of society’s barrel. They were the criminal element after all. And yet… and yet…
 
“I see you begin to understand the position you find yourself in now, Hero.”
 
The nobleman’s voice takes on a sneering, smug tone as he leans back from the railing, grinning wickedly. Apparently, the fourth son of Baron Graham takes Marcus’ silence as shock and submission. He seems to think Marcus is grappling with the severity of the consequences he faces if he continues down this path, rather than the implications of what it means that a nobleman was behind… everything he’d seen these past six weeks.
 
“Lay down your weapons, Hero. We can talk about your reparations like civilized gentlemen. I have the utmost respect for your Job and its role in our society. Once you’re done working off your debt to me, I’ll even help you track down the Dark Lord. Certainly, there’s nothing us law-abiding citizens hate more than a chaotic element like that running amok.”
 
… Marcus decides then and there that the young lord Robert really likes to hear himself speak. Even still, he can’t truly believe the things he’s spouting will come to pass… can he? Making eye contact with the big scarred bandit still standing in front of him, the half-orc sees in the man’s eyes that HE doesn’t think Marcus is going to just surrender. The maul-wielding bandit’s jaw is clenched and his knuckles are white as he waits for Marcus to make a move.
 
Unfortunately, he’s looking in the wrong direction.
 
“Erised.”
 
A strangled cry from the second floor causes both Marcus and his opponent to look up just in time to see what appears to be a Beastkin Thief pouncing on Lord Robert’s back, pinning him to the rail and reaching around to open up a thick red line on his neck with her claws, or so it would seem. Marcus knows better of course, he knows Erised is using her daggers, but in the end the effect is the same.
 
Blood gushes from the neck wound, and the young lord doesn’t get another word out, though he certainly tries. Gasping, choking on his own blood… he dies in moments. His second in command watches all of this, powerless to stop it. With an impotent snarl, he whips back around towards Marcus and charges forward, roaring in fury.
 
Marcus just sets his jaw and takes up his stance, halberd at the ready. Needless to say, the following battle doesn’t take long. As strong as Bernard might be… Marcus is far stronger.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Afterwards, Angelina comes in, moving up beside Marcus as he stands over the maul-wielder’s rapidly cooling corpse. The Holy Priestess had stayed just outside, none of the bandits within the tavern noticing as she cast her spells from out of their view upon Marcus. Meanwhile, Erised hops down from the railing above, holding the lordling’s head by its hair… and nothing else. She’s cut Lord Robert’s head from his body.
 
“No one escaped, your Lordship. The bandits have been dealt with… to a man.”
 
Erised grins ferally at that, even as Marcus stares down at the lordling’s slack face, still coming to terms with the discovery that… well, a member of the Nobility was behind all of this. All of these bandit attacks on the Holy Empire, and it was the Nobility that was to blame. Something in the back of Marcus’ mind told him he really shouldn’t be surprised. But that didn’t change the fact that he was.
 
“… What are you going to do, Marcus?”
 
Angelina’s concerned voice breaks through the walls Marcus didn’t even realize he was building around himself. Letting out a shuddering breath, he looks over at the Holy Priestess and realizes she’s half-expecting him to declare war on the entire Nobility or something. Or maybe he’s projecting because that’s what he WANTS to do.
 
In the end though, he shakes his head and sighs.
 
“Collect all of the evidence. We’ll send everything back with his head to the Capital. We’ll leave it to the Church. Let them investigate it.”
 
Angelina immediately brightens at his decision, while Erised wrinkles her nose. The disguised demon scowls rather cutely, before pointing out the obvious.
 
“What if they bury it?”
 
It’s Angelina’s turn to scowl a little now, but Marcus speaks before she can, shrugging his shoulders.
 
“Then we’ll know, at least.”
 
He hadn’t wanted to spell it out, but Erised had made him do so. This was a test of both Serafina and the Church. Would they hold the Nobility accountable? Would they hold this ‘Baron Graham’ responsible? COULD they even do so? Marcus didn’t know and he wasn’t entirely sure he cared. Or no… he did care. But he wouldn’t let it surprise him, no matter which way things fell. He was done being surprised by this sort of thing.
 
“So now we can finally go look for Dark General Roka-Ra?!”
 
Erised’s excitement is palpable, and despite the situation, brings an amused smile to Marcus’ face. He nods his head towards the diminutive disguised demon.
 
“Yeah. We’ll head for the border once we send everything off. One way or the other… I want to meet this Dark General. I’ll decide what I’m going to do with her and the rest of them after that.”
 
On one hand, he had Erised convinced he was the Dark Lord and thus General Roka-Ra should immediately submit to him when they finally met. On the other hand, he had Angelina convinced he was the Destined Hero, so by all rights the Dark General should want to kill him as soon as they finally meet.
 
Either way, it was the next step in figuring out what the fuck was up with Marcus and his Job… or even Jobs. General Roka-Ra would be a test of his true nature as much as all of this evidence was going to be a test for the Church. One way or another, Marcus figured he would finally get some answers. And if nothing else, he was due that much at least. Right?

-x-X-x-

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