"I'd feel much better if Mischief was here."

The raid was fast approaching, everyone gathered together near the clearing where we knew it would appear. Jared normally didn't bother himself with raids but this one was expected to be different.

"He's got his own problems right now. It's ok–we're going to be fine." I reassured Jared.

Our faction had come a long way since the first raids. Alex and Durkil both cast imposing figures.

Damon wasn't the best at armor yet. He'd come a long way but it just wasn't his strength. Weapons were his speciality, but he had help lately and they were able to somewhat fashion a suit of armor that fit Alex.

It wasn't pretty—especially next to Durkil's gleaming dark-blue plate. Still, it was better than nothing, but not much. It was like a metal poncho with some metal plates strapped to his thighs.

There were skill books in the town interface that could help Damon improve, but they were surprisingly expensive—upwards of 30,000 UBCs. I wanted to get them badly but our resources were already stretched thin as it was.

"And if she shows up again?"

I sighed. How often was Jared going to bring her up?

"Well? Your shield skill is the single greatest advantage we have in any combat. Without it, we are guaranteed to suffer losses."

Did Jared really think I hadn't considered that? I still had nightmares about that day. It's not like it changed anything, we were going to fight this raid. That was going to happen.

"I hope she shows." Nick had become a more consistent presence in my life lately and today was no different. He stood calmly beside me, dark hair flowing unnaturally–seeming to stretch for the shadow. "The sooner we can get rid of her the better."

Maybe….It's not like I wanted her around. But what I did want to know was why. Was it personal, or just random luck that she tried to kill me?

"If she does show up, I'd rather you not kill her."

"Seriously?" Nick huffed. I tried to ignore him. He and I had become close friends over the last three months, but I knew he didn't agree with my aversion to killing.

"Layton, some people are just bad. Do I need to remind you that she tried to kill you?" His voice was barely a whisper. I respected Nick for not making a scene about our disagreements.

"I'm just curious–alright? If you kill her I might not ever find out what her problem with me is."

His silence told me he didn't like my answer. "Look, she's not going to show up anyway. So let's just focus on the next fight, ok?"

More silence. That was ok. He would take care of business–I let the conversation drop.

Over six hundred fighters. In just a few months our numbers exploded. It wasn't all good though. It meant more people to keep track of. The days where I would be able to be everywhere were long gone.

It was still possible to cast barriers on everyone though. In fact, It was pretty easy—I simply focused on a group, thought of who I wanted protected—and the mana responded.

That's how spells and abilities worked. Just like moving an appendage. Casting barrier over the entire army cost me close to a quarter of my mana. It should've been worse, but my robe and sword buffs made a huge difference

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"So you're sure it's wise to have the weaker fighters here? Won't they get in the way? I mean the ranged fighters make sense I guess." Jared was getting fidgety.

"How else are they supposed to get levels if they don't participate?"

The truth was I didn't like it either. I never liked putting our faction members in dangerous situations. What else could I do though? I'd already grappled with my feelings on this.

I was one person. Our faction had to be strong. Together was the only real way forward. It meant that I needed to prepare myself. People would die. Our people.

"Everyone here is a volunteer. They all know the risks, and they're choosing to fight–I won't stop anyone."

The raid's timing was exact each time. It was late in the evening and the days were getting shorter so it was getting dark. A higher sense stat helped make the difference.

"They're willing to fight because they believe you'll protect them with your shields."

What was with everyone tonight? I know they trusted my shields. What was I supposed to do? Not shield them? Jared was making a point, I got it. Part of me wanted to say something snarky.

I bit my tongue.

Jared took the hint.

"It's about to start." The words came out grumpier than I intended.

"Be safe."

As if on cue a massive shimmer blossomed opposite our forces across the large meadow. Time for plan A.

I took a few steps and then shoved off the ground, leaping gracefully over the heads of several lines of fighters to join Ellison, Durkil and Alex on the front lines.

My no jumping rule had pretty much gone out the window and I had spent hours practicing controlled leaps.

Practice was paying off, and I even stuck the landing. A rustle of wind told me Nick was by our side.

"Shall we proceed?"

Plan A was pretty straightforward. Diplomacy. If we could resolve this conflict peacefully we would. Ellison was our ace in the hole. Not only did he have the gift of tongues ability, but he also had a natural aptitude for negotiation.

"Let's go."

We set off through the tall grass. The raiders are already forming ranks. They looked like the dark elf bandit's Mischief and I fought in the dungeon. Only there was one big difference.

Instead of the disorganized rabble I was used to, these raiders were coordinated. We probably outnumbered them, and yet the clear formation lines made it feel like we were the ones outnumbered.

Ellison proposed that we approach the raiders with a small group and wait far enough away that if they wanted to talk they would have to come out to us.

Once we were about halfway across the meadow Ellison held out a hand. We stopped.

The portal closed.

I looked at the raiders. They had matching armor sets. In the front lines the elves wore sleek plate metal on their chests with pauldrons and their arms were unburdened with armor. They had only leather pants for protection below the waist. They were armed with oval shields and spears.

The second row of elves had oval shields on their backs, crossbows and were wearing long chainmail shirts. Mixed in between were elves in robes, each a different shade of blue.

I looked back at our ragtag army. It was the same formation–in concept.

There were no crisp lines, no uniformity, we just put the people that whacked things up front, and people that shot things in the back.

What did I expect? No one in our group planned to be pulled into an apocalypse and forced into regular combat scenarios. We'd all come a long way, but compared to these elves?

We look like a village mob.

Nick leaned over to whisper in Ellison's ear. "What now?"

"We wait. With any luck, instead of attacking us, they'll be willing to talk." Ellison's voice was firm, and confident. I sometimes wondered if he was ever nervous or unsure. If he was, it never showed.

"How will we know?" Alex wondered.

"I don't think we'll have to wait long." He inclined his head towards the raiders. "Look there."

We all looked where he indicated. Two of the raiders were in deep discussion. Both were tall, one in a dark midnight blue robe—the other armor. The robed elf had its hand on the armored shoulder of his comrade and was gesturing towards us. The armored elf just stroked his white goatee and stared in our direction.

"Here they come." Just as I said it, the elf with the goatee pointed at two of his soldiers–they joined him and the robed elf. The lines parted and the four of them marched to meet us.

I crossed my fingers. "Do we even know if it's possible to resolve this without a fight?"

So far, we only knew of one objective. Kill or be killed.

Ellison placed a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't we go find out?"

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