Little Red Men
Detention, as Fate would come to learn, was a nightmare, and severely dangerous.
Having been directed to a small building on Academy grounds, he was greeted by the weathered and grim faces of the Empress' Guard. Each one had either red or green armor, with a blue-armored sergeant to lead them. This man was broad, his short black hair partially hidden underneath his open-faced helmet. He gave Fate a once-over before he noticed the black badge on Fate's robe, his dour face broke into a grin.
"Well, well, well. Looks like someone got detention. You better hope yer good at fighting monsters, 'cause that's what you get to do. The seven of us are going to the Golden Caverns to take care of an imp problem. D'you know what those are?"
"Little red things that steal crops and set fire to people's things," Fate replied. Brergan had had more than its fair share of imp raids."
The sergeant snorted. "Those are the young ones. We're going after the fully grown ones; nasty fuckers that can-"
"Sarge, you aren't supposed to curse on Academy grounds," interrupted one of the Guards behind him.
"Shut yer yap, I know." He cleared his throat, turning back to Fate. "Ahem. Anyway, these imps are mature. They can be as tall as you or taller than that, they love torturing defenseless people and despise any and all forms of labor. So we won't need to worry about traps or fences or anything of the sort, although trust me, they'll be plenty menacing without those."
"I don't see why that takes a full team, including an Adept," Fate replied.
The Stages were as follows: Magician, Apprentice, Journeyman, Adept, Master, and Arch-Mage. The Guards' armor color reflected their rank: red for Apprentice, green for Journeyman, blue for Adept, silver for Master, and gold for the strongest Masters, the members of the Guard that were only a few steps away from Arch-Mage.
A single Apprentice with an offensive Skill could clear an entire tribe of the imps Fate knew on their own, so Fate was confused why they needed so much firepower.
"You know why dragons require a team of Arch-Mages to take down, don't you?" the Guard asked.
"Only rumors. Something about Mana-resistant scales?"
"That's part of the reason. It's also because their scales are thick enough to weather even the strongest attacks of an Arch-Mage, and because their minds are naturally resistant to all mind-altering Skills. They're practically invincible."
"And the imps are like this?" If this was true, then Fate suddenly felt they were underprepared.
"No, but they've evolved similar defenses. Any Mana you chuck at them just gets absorbed, making their skin and blood hotter. They start with crappy weapons like sticks and rocks, but once they get hot enough, they use that blood as their weapon. At that point, swords melt before they can even hit, human skin blisters, and there's nothing we can do but sit down and wait to die."
"Our imps never did that," Fate responded with a furrowed brow.
"That's because they were toddlers. An imp doesn't get this skill until they're as old as you are now. And we're about to go into a cavern full of them, so don't chuck any Mana their way, got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, form up, all of you! Check your weapons and your armor!" The Adept went into the building, coming back out with a hefty two-handed sword, which he handed to Fate. "You know how to use one of these?"
"No," Fate said, grunting as he adjusted to the weight.
The sword wasn't heavy, per se, but the weight seemed unusually concentrated near the hilt. He considered that strange, as he had always heard that swords had weight distributed evenly throughout the blade.
"It's easy. Point the pointy end at the little red demons, and don't poke your eye out. Do what I said, along with the thing I mentioned about not using Mana to attack, and you should be fine. Also, go in there and get some armor on. I don't need to come back to the Academy and tell the principal I got one of her students killed."
Fate nodded, going into the building and rummaging through the pile of armor in the corner.
He eventually found and donned two mismatching bracers (a steel one on his left arm and a leather one on his right), a greave on his right leg, a small chest plate over his torso, and a pauldron on his right shoulder. He felt profoundly silly, especially with the way his robes looked underneath, but the weight of the armor was reassuring.
When he exited the building, the sergeant gave him a look with narrowed eyes. "Take that robe off. All it'll do is get caught on rocks."
"I don't have any other clothes," Fate said.
The Adept shook his head and went into the building, coming back out with a handful of clothes. "Here. If the pants don't fit, use the belt."
A quick change of clothes later, Fate looked ready for battle. The sergeant seemed to think so as well because he yelled at his subordinates to stand. They set into a march, the excellent synchronicity disrupted by Fate, who tagged along behind them and made no effort to match their rhythm.
They stopped on top of a hill, miles away from Hetforn, and gazed upon the Golden Caverns.
True to the name, the entrance was rock of a sparkling golden color, set into the base of a mountain that alternated between silver and gold in color. It would have been a beautiful scene, only compounded by the slowly setting sun to their backs, if it weren't for the drawn and quartered human corpse tied to a post next to the cave's mouth.
"Shit," cursed one of the Guards in green. "They have a shaman."
"What's a shaman?" Fate asked.
"The only kind of imps with Mana," the sergeant said quietly. "While they can't become Mages like us with special powers, their Mage Reach scales in power the older they get. They also have a passable work ethic and the know-how to get the others to toil in making tools and defenses. In other words, we might be screwed."