The remnants of a skirmish crackled softly under Lukas’s boots as he stepped through the aftermath: overturned crates, broken blades, and the unmistakable scorch marks of a fight that had ended decisively. He knelt beside a fallen tree, fingers brushing the deep, clean cut through its trunk. No ordinary outlaw had done this.

A low whistle slipped past his lips. “Remarkable.”

He rose and followed the trail into a narrow ravine, where the walls funneled the wind into a distant howl. Above him, carrion birds already circled—drawn by the bodies strewn in careful formation, each defeated foe placed with an almost ritual precision. Lukas took note. Efficiency this intentional was rare.

The ravine widened into a rocky plateau, and there, at its center, the brigand he sought stood amid the remains of a fresh victory. The fading sunlight painted the scene in bands of crimson and gold, casting long shadows that flickered like phantom soldiers. Lukas approached slowly, ensuring his presence was unmistakable long before he reached speaking distance.

He stopped when the ground leveled out, lifting his chin in greeting. Instead of reaching for his weapon, he let his arm fall to his side, showing trust without surrendering vigilance. A faint breeze tugged at his cloak.

“You’ve left quite the trail,” he said, voice level but carrying an undercurrent of genuine admiration. “Bandits who terrorized this region for months—eliminated in a single sweep. Their tactics may have been crude, but there were many of them. The Deliverance could use strength like that.”

He glanced at the surrounding cliffs, noting every vantage point, every route of escape, every tactical choice that had dictated this battleground. The strategy was sound. Almost elegant.

“I am Lukas, lieutenant of the Deliverance. With Rigel’s forces pressing harder each day, we require individuals capable of turning the tide in moments like these.” His gaze returned to the plateau, to the still-settling dust and the echoes of the clash that had taken place. “Individuals like you.”

He stepped forward once more, enough to signal sincerity but not enough to challenge.

“I am authorized to recruit exceptional fighters. Should you choose to stand with us, your impact would be felt across all of Zofia. And I would personally ensure you are granted both respect and autonomy within our ranks.”

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of steel and smoke between them. Lukas held his ground—patient, composed, and unmistakably earnest—as he awaited your answer.