It took two hours for Red to wrap up his recruitment effort. He walked out of the Adventurers’ Guild followed by five men. Two were the fellow caravan guards that went in with him. Those guys looked worn out from their long journey.
Behind them walked three fresh faces. Compared with the tired guards of Johns and Josh merchant group’s caravan, these fellows were bright and shiny. Their clothes were clean, the leather armors they wore seemed to be brand new.
To Wolf they seemed impressive, to Archibald they seemed like complete rookies.
One of them was even smiling dumbly! The other two at least had hardened looks and seemed like they’ve killed a couple of people before. Archibald wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing though…
“All right, we’re setting off. No need to stay in this ripoff village.” Red shouted while mounting his horse, and the caravan lurched into motion.
There were twenty wagons in total, with just as many drivers. Ten mounted guards watched the flanks, while another twenty of them traveled by foot. Twenty-three with the addition of the new adventurers, who stuck out like sore thumbs.
Archibald scanned the situation in an instant and wasn’t too happy with it. Almost half the people here were noncombatants. That, combined with the wealth of the caravan, meant that they had just joined a giant bullseye for bandits.
Well, they somehow managed to get here from the capital, so they can’t be that incompetent. Archibald tried to think positive, failing the next moment. The fact that their caravan master was injured in a skirmish isn’t too reassuring though...
The caravan traveled for a couple of hours to open up some distance with The Honest Man’s Place, then stopped for the night.
While one of the drivers prepared a meal Red called the guards to gather.
“In the spirit of getting to know each other I’d like us to have a couple of sparring matches.” The man had already taken off his armor, revealing a wiry figure.
He wanted to see how good these new additions were, but he wasn’t the only one interested in this.
Archibald and Wolf watched their training with some interest.
While the big man wasn’t too well versed in the way of the sword he had seen plenty of troops practice back in the day. However, even as an amateur, Archibald was appalled by the lack of skill the caravan guards exhibited.
The nine that sparred with the adventurers were absolute rubbish.
Even the most lacking of the three newcomers could take on two of them at the same time, while the other two needed to take on three men to make the spar interesting.
During the matches, Red introduced the nine guards as the best among his men, which was why they were given the privilege of being mounted.
With the sorry display finally over, Red arranged three shifts for that night’s guard duty. Each team consisted of three elite guards and one adventurer.
This was done to utilize the adventurer’s superior skills, and to allow those that walked to rest. At least that’s the way Red explained his decision.
By the time the guard captain was done assigning shifts, the dinner was ready. The guards that spent their day walking ahead and behind the wagons were stuffing their faces with food, putting on yet another sorry display.
Archibald and Wolf returned to their overcrowded wagon. Even though they had paid for the ride that apparently did not mean they would have a wagon for themselves. The caravan guards and drivers cleared out a bit of space for them, but there was still danger of a crate falling on them whenever they hit a bump in the road.
“Dad, why were those guys faking it when sparring?” Wolf asked as he sat down cross legged, ready to enter his Mind Palace for the night.
“What do you mean?” Archibald had failed to notice any faking.
“Well, they are kind of decent,” Wolf started explaining. “Those three had no idea their opponents were going easy on them. In order to do that you have to be a lot better than your opponent, otherwise you might end up hurt from acting clumsy. As for those guards, I think they could even cause me some trouble if we fought two on one. I can’t use magic in friendly spars and disabling someone without hurting them isn’t all that easy either.”
“So, you’re saying those guards were feigning weakness?” Archibald started scratching his chin, apparently thinking about something. Wolf didn’t say anything, just nodded in response, and gave his father time to think.
“If they are trying to make themselves appear weak… that means they don’t trust these new adventurers… but if they don’t trust them, why hire them in the first place?” Archibald muttered while thinking.
Suddenly his face brightened with realization.
“It seems that bandits apply as adventurers and then they find easy targets that way,” Archibald hypothesized. “These merchant guards had a large number of ears and heads they turned in back at the Adventurer Guild. That probably means that they are actively hunting bandits along the way.”
“But they couldn’t go around chasing them, meaning bandits had to come to them. If there are bandits among the adventurers they hired, this sad display was a bait to hook them. Even if there were just bandit scouts watching from a distance it would still serve the same purpose…”
That means we’re going to get attacked soon. Probably not tonight, but tomorrow almost certainly. At least that’s what Archibald hoped. If it was before I would’ve told Wolf to get ready for some real combat experience, but now that I’m not dying…
I don’t know. It’s a tough one. Hopefully we won’t be forced to pitch in, but if we get involved it’s better for him to be ready and get used to killing while he’s at it. Archibald bit his lip as his mind raced and went through different possible scenarios.
“What’s on your mind dad?” Wolf asked, reading the familiar gesture.
Archibald faltered. What was he supposed to say? I’m thinking whether or not you’re ready to go around killing a bunch of people?
Then again, Wolf was strange. Maybe it would be best to just come out with it and see what the boy thought?
The big man never stopped to wonder whether the boy was growing odd exactly because of the way his odd father raised him…
“Son, we might encounter bandits in the near future?” he started, but then faltered. Archibald swallowed some spit and then just went and said it.
“Do you want to fight them, or should we let the guards handle it?” There. I said it. Now the boy can decide for himself.
Surprisingly, Wolf really did have an opinion. He shrugged his tiny shoulders with a disinterested expression.
“If they come they come,” he said seriously. “I won’t bother to attack anyone unless they attack us. We paid a lot of money for these guards to protect us on this journey. It would be impolite to snatch their work from them.”
For a moment Archibald thought that his son was joking, but the boy had a straight face and seemed like he was going to shut his eyes and meditate, as if the discussion was already over.
This was once again one of those moments when your kid gets you. What Wolf said made perfect sense in a very convoluted kind of way. Archibald was about to open his mouth, when Wolf continued talking.
“Don’t worry dad,” Wolf reassured his old man. “If anyone comes anywhere near us, they won’t be leaving alive. I’ll go and set up an Alarm spell and then I’ll go back to meditation. You can rest easy. Feel free to sleep or meditate.” With that the boy got up and jumped out into the dark night.
Wolf went under the wagon, and quietly murmured the chant for Alarm. If anyone approached the wagon Wolf would know immediately. Alarm would rouse him even if he was in the trance while carving the column. He had discovered this handy bit of information way back in the Beast-lands.
With the ward activated Wolf climbed back into the wagon. He sat down comfortably and entered his Mind Hall to continue his work on the sixth column.
The night passed without incident.
In the morning, after everyone finished their breakfast, the caravan continued its slow journey towards Silverhound duchy. Archibald and Wolf were both busy and the day went by in a flash.
The caravan once again stopped about an hour before sunset. Just like last night the miserable spar took place, then the foot-soldiers stuffed their faces with rich stew. After devouring their supper everyone, except for the guards on duty, went to sleep.
It was the exact same routine, with one significant difference. Hours later, while Wolf’s Mental Aspect was busy smoothing out the sixth column, a soft chime rang out.
“Alarm!” Wolf dropped the chisel, which dissolved into mist before hitting the ground.
Wolf immediately opened his eyes and gently nudged his meditating father.
“Dad, there’s someone outside. I’ll be back as soon as I handle it.” Wolf spoke calmly, all the while casting a Subtle spell.
“Be careful.” Archibald whispered as he opened his eyes.
“And don’t do anything too flashy,” he muttered as an afterthought. The man had complete confidence in his son being able to kill a group of bandits. He just had to hope he wouldn’t alert the whole world of what he was doing.
Wolf nodded in acknowledgement, still focusing on casting Swift Escape. As soon as the spell was cast Wolf dashed out with inhuman speed.
The night was cloudy and nearly pitch black. Wolf took a split second to fully awaken his senses, and to see what was going on around him. The guards were sleeping next to several dying fires. However, their breathing was all wrong. Based on the sound of their breathing and heartbeat, Wolf could immediately tell that they were just pretending to be asleep.
Outside of the ring of wagons there were two dozen or so people slowly crawling straight towards his and his father’s wagon. And further away was another group stealthily approaching.
You had twenty wagons, and you picked this one? Your luck is so bad that I’m speechless.
Wolf cast a Subtle Silence spell on himself before circling around behind the crawling bandits as fast as he could. It was too dark to see properly and these bandits were just blindly crawling towards the dying fires.
The bandit furthest from the caravan was slowly advancing. The only sound to be heard was the rustle of grass and his breathing. His heart was pounding like crazy. He was afraid that it was beating so loudly that it would wake up the sentries. In his nervous excitement it took a moment for him to realize that the rustling was gone.
For an instant he stopped, not knowing what was going on. He wanted to get his head up a bit and see what was happening, but he was too slow. Before he could gather his bearings the man felt a sudden burst of pain in the back of his head, and then the world turned completely black.
Wolf was making his way through the ranks of the bandits going from back to front.
The chore was as easy as picking strawberries. People were already lying on the ground, their faces buried in the grass. They were moving so slowly that stabbing them in the back of the head was as uninspiring as it gets.
Wolf realized that he could have finished the job even without Silence. None of the bandits managed to open their mouths let alone scream. But better safe than sorry, as his father liked to say.
The whole affair was finished in a dozen breaths or so.
Even the frontmost bandit had just managed to reach the wagon. The man barely stood up before Wolf’s blade pierced his skull from behind, and exited through his open mouth.
The boy hopped into the wagon and dismissed Silence.
“All done.”
He wiped his sword clean before storing it back into the Ring of Holding.
“Should I do something about the bodies?” Wolf asked absentmindedly, making Archibald’s head spin.
His son was acting like a coldblooded killer, not like a child.
“Um, leave them. The caravan guards will take care of it.” The big man focused on breathing.
Is there something wrong with him? Is he emotionless? No, he’s showing plenty of emotions regularly. Does he really not understand what it means to die, and cease to be?
That was actually the case. As far as Wolf was concerned, killing someone was no different from sending them into the corner to reflect on their actions.
Archibald was thinking about his son’s cruel nature when suddenly a scream echoed outside.
*Aaaagh!*
“You son of a bitch!” a rough male voice rang out followed by sounds of combat and screams of the wounded and the dying.
Wolf and Archibald ignored the whole affair. Just like Wolf had said previously, this fight had nothing to do with them. He and his father had paid for their safe passage…
***
*Slash!*
Red hacked off a bandit’s arm, sending the blood spraying.
The man screamed and fainted from shock.
As good as dead, Red thought coldly before hacking at another bandit.
It was an unfair battle. Red was a master of the sword, and a warrior on par with any knight in service to higher nobles. Unfortunately, he lacked the talent for Internal Energy gathering. If he tried his best he might be able to reach the Third Order, tops. Even that would come at a huge cost in resources, which the man could not afford, and would require constant effort to prevent Internal Energy from leaking from his body.
*Slash! Slash! Slash!*
Every time Red slashed his sword a bandit fell or was incapacitated.
Why are there so few? Bandits generally don’t attack unless they have an advantage in numbers, the guard captain wondered. Even if they thought we were weak and had an inside man, they should’ve sent at least thirty…
The fact that there were fewer bandits came in handy. Red’s men could still act incompetent, while he dashed around slaughtering the raiders. That way the other two scouts they had hired wouldn’t be alerted that there’s something wrong.
Joe sure screamed like he was being butchered, Red grumbled inwardly. I can’t believe the idiot turned his back to a new guy! Luckily we have masterwork double-layered chainmail, and he should suffer from nothing more than bruising…
*Stab!*
The wiry man turned around and stabbed the throat of a bandit that tried to sneak up on him. Suddenly there was silence.
That was the last of them, Red thought while panting.
“I thought I could get a healing potion, or at least a couple of days of sick leave. But you’re too incompetent.” Joe muttered as he searched the dead adventurer’s corpse.
Red and a couple of guys nearby couldn’t help but chuckle. Apparently the man let himself get wounded on purpose, or at least he tried to have everyone think that was the case…
The outcome of the battle was two dozen dead bandits, a couple of wounded guards and the less competent adventurer hurling off to the side. Apparently this was the first time the lad had killed anyone.
Maybe I was wrong about that one? Red wondered, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had a job to do.
Having finished the initial scan of the battlefield, Red started shouting, “There were too few of them! You lot! Yes, you three incompetent lugs! Do a perimeter check!”
As Red yelled three of his comrades moved lazily while grumbling.
The guys lit three torches and did a sweep of their surroundings in a well practiced way. A careful observer would’ve noticed that they were way too skillful just based on their movement pattern.
Red was kind of worried about the bandits having reinforcements, but that didn’t make much sense.
If they had any backup, those guys would’ve attacked by now...
“Boss, come quick! You’ve got to see this!” a guard suddenly shouted from the direction of Wolf’s and Archibald’s wagon.
Red ran over, thinking something might have happened to the only two passengers they had. He didn’t really care about them, but losing customers when no guards were wounded would hurt their reputation.
Contrary to his expectations, what greeted him was a bunch of scattered corpses. Fourteen bandits. Each of them killed with one clean strike to the back of the head. Red tried to recall, but he never heard any screams from this direction. Whoever killed them had done so in such a way that these men didn’t even get to cry out, let alone fight back.
I don’t think I can do that… Red thought as a chill crept down his spine and goosebumps covered his skin.
I don’t think teacher can do this either… Red thought about his swordplay teacher back at Silver City, but this was probably beyond the man. Even though he was an actual Sword-Sage.
The guard captain examined the tracks on the ground, and after a couple of moments pieced together what had happened.
Why is that kid so heavy? Red wondered while signaling his men to quietly retreat.
“Tell the rest of the boys that we have to treat those two politely.” Red whispered when they opened up enough distance from Archibald’s and Wolf’s wagon. “It looks like that kid killed all of them in cold blood. The wounds are clean and there wasn’t even the slightest bit of hesitation in his movement. My guess is that he’s that old man’s disciple. I just can’t figure out why they joined a caravan if they were this strong. Also, why dress like a Mage, when you're such an achieved Sword-Sage?”
“Maybe they are deceiving people like us?” One of the subordinates offered an explanation. “You know, baiting the enemy to dash into melee, because Mages are weak at close range?”
Hearing this, Red nodded. That wasn’t impossible. If it were him fighting those two he would also charge straight towards them. Seeing how these bandits fared, that would’ve been the last mistake of his life.
“Boss, maybe you should talk to them. We can give them their money back.” the smart guard offered another piece of advice.
“I don’t know Jake.” Red shook his head. “They might find it offensive. After all, for someone capable of raising such a disciple a hundred gold pieces is nothing. Hmmm, but we do have something here that might interest them…” Red scrunched his brows while thinking.
“Yes… If we were to present it as a gift they would be honor bound to help us if we run into trouble later on. Yes… That could work, but I have to discuss this with the caravan master first. He’s in charge of the goods, we’re just plain old muscle.” Red thought about this for another moment, but in the end he lacked the authority to arbitrarily hand out valuable merchandise.
With his mind made up the scruffy man walked straight towards a wagon that looked no different from the others.
Red moved aside the waxed cloth and climbed aboard, finding himself in front of an ornate wooden door. He knocked on the door twice rapidly then after two breaths knocked once more.
“Yes Red, what is it?” the sound came from an intricate blood-red seal drawn on the door.
“Sir, do you mind letting me inside? I need to bring something to your attention,” Red uttered, apparently still considering things.
“Ooh. It’s that serious?” After a few moments the ornate door swung open on its own.
“Come in. This is the first time you’re consulting me since your mission started. What could be so important?” The sound still didn’t come from inside, but rather from Spell Formation painted on the doorframe.
Archibald’s lessons:
Apparently the times have grown really hard for common folk. When I was a child peasants were free to live their lives, even if they were poor. Now, with this inner conflict, their status had dropped to the point near slavery.
While I understand that this is all for the glory of the human race, I’m not sure I condone this new caste division of society.
It took two hours for Red to wrap up his recruitment effort. He walked out of the Adventurers’ Guild followed by five men. Two were the fellow caravan guards that went in with him. Those guys looked worn out from their long journey.
Behind them walked three fresh faces. Compared with the tired guards of Johns and Josh merchant group’s caravan, these fellows were bright and shiny. Their clothes were clean, the leather armors they wore seemed to be brand new.
To Wolf they seemed impressive, to Archibald they seemed like complete rookies.
One of them was even smiling dumbly! The other two at least had hardened looks and seemed like they’ve killed a couple of people before. Archibald wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing though…
“All right, we’re setting off. No need to stay in this ripoff village.” Red shouted while mounting his horse, and the caravan lurched into motion.
There were twenty wagons in total, with just as many drivers. Ten mounted guards watched the flanks, while another twenty of them traveled by foot. Twenty-three with the addition of the new adventurers, who stuck out like sore thumbs.
Archibald scanned the situation in an instant and wasn’t too happy with it. Almost half the people here were noncombatants. That, combined with the wealth of the caravan, meant that they had just joined a giant bullseye for bandits.
Well, they somehow managed to get here from the capital, so they can’t be that incompetent. Archibald tried to think positive, failing the next moment. The fact that their caravan master was injured in a skirmish isn’t too reassuring though...
The caravan traveled for a couple of hours to open up some distance with The Honest Man’s Place, then stopped for the night.
While one of the drivers prepared a meal Red called the guards to gather.
“In the spirit of getting to know each other I’d like us to have a couple of sparring matches.” The man had already taken off his armor, revealing a wiry figure.
He wanted to see how good these new additions were, but he wasn’t the only one interested in this.
Archibald and Wolf watched their training with some interest.
While the big man wasn’t too well versed in the way of the sword he had seen plenty of troops practice back in the day. However, even as an amateur, Archibald was appalled by the lack of skill the caravan guards exhibited.
The nine that sparred with the adventurers were absolute rubbish.
Even the most lacking of the three newcomers could take on two of them at the same time, while the other two needed to take on three men to make the spar interesting.
During the matches, Red introduced the nine guards as the best among his men, which was why they were given the privilege of being mounted.
With the sorry display finally over, Red arranged three shifts for that night’s guard duty. Each team consisted of three elite guards and one adventurer.
This was done to utilize the adventurer’s superior skills, and to allow those that walked to rest. At least that’s the way Red explained his decision.
By the time the guard captain was done assigning shifts, the dinner was ready. The guards that spent their day walking ahead and behind the wagons were stuffing their faces with food, putting on yet another sorry display.
Archibald and Wolf returned to their overcrowded wagon. Even though they had paid for the ride that apparently did not mean they would have a wagon for themselves. The caravan guards and drivers cleared out a bit of space for them, but there was still danger of a crate falling on them whenever they hit a bump in the road.
“Dad, why were those guys faking it when sparring?” Wolf asked as he sat down cross legged, ready to enter his Mind Palace for the night.
“What do you mean?” Archibald had failed to notice any faking.
“Well, they are kind of decent,” Wolf started explaining. “Those three had no idea their opponents were going easy on them. In order to do that you have to be a lot better than your opponent, otherwise you might end up hurt from acting clumsy. As for those guards, I think they could even cause me some trouble if we fought two on one. I can’t use magic in friendly spars and disabling someone without hurting them isn’t all that easy either.”
“So, you’re saying those guards were feigning weakness?” Archibald started scratching his chin, apparently thinking about something. Wolf didn’t say anything, just nodded in response, and gave his father time to think.
“If they are trying to make themselves appear weak… that means they don’t trust these new adventurers… but if they don’t trust them, why hire them in the first place?” Archibald muttered while thinking.
Suddenly his face brightened with realization.
“It seems that bandits apply as adventurers and then they find easy targets that way,” Archibald hypothesized. “These merchant guards had a large number of ears and heads they turned in back at the Adventurer Guild. That probably means that they are actively hunting bandits along the way.”
“But they couldn’t go around chasing them, meaning bandits had to come to them. If there are bandits among the adventurers they hired, this sad display was a bait to hook them. Even if there were just bandit scouts watching from a distance it would still serve the same purpose…”
That means we’re going to get attacked soon. Probably not tonight, but tomorrow almost certainly. At least that’s what Archibald hoped. If it was before I would’ve told Wolf to get ready for some real combat experience, but now that I’m not dying…
I don’t know. It’s a tough one. Hopefully we won’t be forced to pitch in, but if we get involved it’s better for him to be ready and get used to killing while he’s at it. Archibald bit his lip as his mind raced and went through different possible scenarios.
“What’s on your mind dad?” Wolf asked, reading the familiar gesture.
Archibald faltered. What was he supposed to say? I’m thinking whether or not you’re ready to go around killing a bunch of people?
Then again, Wolf was strange. Maybe it would be best to just come out with it and see what the boy thought?
The big man never stopped to wonder whether the boy was growing odd exactly because of the way his odd father raised him…
“Son, we might encounter bandits in the near future?” he started, but then faltered. Archibald swallowed some spit and then just went and said it.
“Do you want to fight them, or should we let the guards handle it?” There. I said it. Now the boy can decide for himself.
Surprisingly, Wolf really did have an opinion. He shrugged his tiny shoulders with a disinterested expression.
“If they come they come,” he said seriously. “I won’t bother to attack anyone unless they attack us. We paid a lot of money for these guards to protect us on this journey. It would be impolite to snatch their work from them.”
For a moment Archibald thought that his son was joking, but the boy had a straight face and seemed like he was going to shut his eyes and meditate, as if the discussion was already over.
This was once again one of those moments when your kid gets you. What Wolf said made perfect sense in a very convoluted kind of way. Archibald was about to open his mouth, when Wolf continued talking.
“Don’t worry dad,” Wolf reassured his old man. “If anyone comes anywhere near us, they won’t be leaving alive. I’ll go and set up an Alarm spell and then I’ll go back to meditation. You can rest easy. Feel free to sleep or meditate.” With that the boy got up and jumped out into the dark night.
Wolf went under the wagon, and quietly murmured the chant for Alarm. If anyone approached the wagon Wolf would know immediately. Alarm would rouse him even if he was in the trance while carving the column. He had discovered this handy bit of information way back in the Beast-lands.
With the ward activated Wolf climbed back into the wagon. He sat down comfortably and entered his Mind Hall to continue his work on the sixth column.
The night passed without incident.
In the morning, after everyone finished their breakfast, the caravan continued its slow journey towards Silverhound duchy. Archibald and Wolf were both busy and the day went by in a flash.
The caravan once again stopped about an hour before sunset. Just like last night the miserable spar took place, then the foot-soldiers stuffed their faces with rich stew. After devouring their supper everyone, except for the guards on duty, went to sleep.
It was the exact same routine, with one significant difference. Hours later, while Wolf’s Mental Aspect was busy smoothing out the sixth column, a soft chime rang out.
“Alarm!” Wolf dropped the chisel, which dissolved into mist before hitting the ground.
Wolf immediately opened his eyes and gently nudged his meditating father.
“Dad, there’s someone outside. I’ll be back as soon as I handle it.” Wolf spoke calmly, all the while casting a Subtle spell.
“Be careful.” Archibald whispered as he opened his eyes.
“And don’t do anything too flashy,” he muttered as an afterthought. The man had complete confidence in his son being able to kill a group of bandits. He just had to hope he wouldn’t alert the whole world of what he was doing.
Wolf nodded in acknowledgement, still focusing on casting Swift Escape. As soon as the spell was cast Wolf dashed out with inhuman speed.
The night was cloudy and nearly pitch black. Wolf took a split second to fully awaken his senses, and to see what was going on around him. The guards were sleeping next to several dying fires. However, their breathing was all wrong. Based on the sound of their breathing and heartbeat, Wolf could immediately tell that they were just pretending to be asleep.
Outside of the ring of wagons there were two dozen or so people slowly crawling straight towards his and his father’s wagon. And further away was another group stealthily approaching.
You had twenty wagons, and you picked this one? Your luck is so bad that I’m speechless.
Wolf cast a Subtle Silence spell on himself before circling around behind the crawling bandits as fast as he could. It was too dark to see properly and these bandits were just blindly crawling towards the dying fires.
The bandit furthest from the caravan was slowly advancing. The only sound to be heard was the rustle of grass and his breathing. His heart was pounding like crazy. He was afraid that it was beating so loudly that it would wake up the sentries. In his nervous excitement it took a moment for him to realize that the rustling was gone.
For an instant he stopped, not knowing what was going on. He wanted to get his head up a bit and see what was happening, but he was too slow. Before he could gather his bearings the man felt a sudden burst of pain in the back of his head, and then the world turned completely black.
Wolf was making his way through the ranks of the bandits going from back to front.
The chore was as easy as picking strawberries. People were already lying on the ground, their faces buried in the grass. They were moving so slowly that stabbing them in the back of the head was as uninspiring as it gets.
Wolf realized that he could have finished the job even without Silence. None of the bandits managed to open their mouths let alone scream. But better safe than sorry, as his father liked to say.
The whole affair was finished in a dozen breaths or so.
Even the frontmost bandit had just managed to reach the wagon. The man barely stood up before Wolf’s blade pierced his skull from behind, and exited through his open mouth.
The boy hopped into the wagon and dismissed Silence.
“All done.”
He wiped his sword clean before storing it back into the Ring of Holding.
“Should I do something about the bodies?” Wolf asked absentmindedly, making Archibald’s head spin.
His son was acting like a coldblooded killer, not like a child.
“Um, leave them. The caravan guards will take care of it.” The big man focused on breathing.
Is there something wrong with him? Is he emotionless? No, he’s showing plenty of emotions regularly. Does he really not understand what it means to die, and cease to be?
That was actually the case. As far as Wolf was concerned, killing someone was no different from sending them into the corner to reflect on their actions.
Archibald was thinking about his son’s cruel nature when suddenly a scream echoed outside.
*Aaaagh!*
“You son of a bitch!” a rough male voice rang out followed by sounds of combat and screams of the wounded and the dying.
Wolf and Archibald ignored the whole affair. Just like Wolf had said previously, this fight had nothing to do with them. He and his father had paid for their safe passage…
***
*Slash!*
Red hacked off a bandit’s arm, sending the blood spraying.
The man screamed and fainted from shock.
As good as dead, Red thought coldly before hacking at another bandit.
It was an unfair battle. Red was a master of the sword, and a warrior on par with any knight in service to higher nobles. Unfortunately, he lacked the talent for Internal Energy gathering. If he tried his best he might be able to reach the Third Order, tops. Even that would come at a huge cost in resources, which the man could not afford, and would require constant effort to prevent Internal Energy from leaking from his body.
*Slash! Slash! Slash!*
Every time Red slashed his sword a bandit fell or was incapacitated.
Why are there so few? Bandits generally don’t attack unless they have an advantage in numbers, the guard captain wondered. Even if they thought we were weak and had an inside man, they should’ve sent at least thirty…
The fact that there were fewer bandits came in handy. Red’s men could still act incompetent, while he dashed around slaughtering the raiders. That way the other two scouts they had hired wouldn’t be alerted that there’s something wrong.
Joe sure screamed like he was being butchered, Red grumbled inwardly. I can’t believe the idiot turned his back to a new guy! Luckily we have masterwork double-layered chainmail, and he should suffer from nothing more than bruising…
*Stab!*
The wiry man turned around and stabbed the throat of a bandit that tried to sneak up on him. Suddenly there was silence.
That was the last of them, Red thought while panting.
“I thought I could get a healing potion, or at least a couple of days of sick leave. But you’re too incompetent.” Joe muttered as he searched the dead adventurer’s corpse.
Red and a couple of guys nearby couldn’t help but chuckle. Apparently the man let himself get wounded on purpose, or at least he tried to have everyone think that was the case…
The outcome of the battle was two dozen dead bandits, a couple of wounded guards and the less competent adventurer hurling off to the side. Apparently this was the first time the lad had killed anyone.
Maybe I was wrong about that one? Red wondered, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had a job to do.
Having finished the initial scan of the battlefield, Red started shouting, “There were too few of them! You lot! Yes, you three incompetent lugs! Do a perimeter check!”
As Red yelled three of his comrades moved lazily while grumbling.
The guys lit three torches and did a sweep of their surroundings in a well practiced way. A careful observer would’ve noticed that they were way too skillful just based on their movement pattern.
Red was kind of worried about the bandits having reinforcements, but that didn’t make much sense.
If they had any backup, those guys would’ve attacked by now...
“Boss, come quick! You’ve got to see this!” a guard suddenly shouted from the direction of Wolf’s and Archibald’s wagon.
Red ran over, thinking something might have happened to the only two passengers they had. He didn’t really care about them, but losing customers when no guards were wounded would hurt their reputation.
Contrary to his expectations, what greeted him was a bunch of scattered corpses. Fourteen bandits. Each of them killed with one clean strike to the back of the head. Red tried to recall, but he never heard any screams from this direction. Whoever killed them had done so in such a way that these men didn’t even get to cry out, let alone fight back.
I don’t think I can do that… Red thought as a chill crept down his spine and goosebumps covered his skin.
I don’t think teacher can do this either… Red thought about his swordplay teacher back at Silver City, but this was probably beyond the man. Even though he was an actual Sword-Sage.
The guard captain examined the tracks on the ground, and after a couple of moments pieced together what had happened.
Why is that kid so heavy? Red wondered while signaling his men to quietly retreat.
“Tell the rest of the boys that we have to treat those two politely.” Red whispered when they opened up enough distance from Archibald’s and Wolf’s wagon. “It looks like that kid killed all of them in cold blood. The wounds are clean and there wasn’t even the slightest bit of hesitation in his movement. My guess is that he’s that old man’s disciple. I just can’t figure out why they joined a caravan if they were this strong. Also, why dress like a Mage, when you're such an achieved Sword-Sage?”
“Maybe they are deceiving people like us?” One of the subordinates offered an explanation. “You know, baiting the enemy to dash into melee, because Mages are weak at close range?”
Hearing this, Red nodded. That wasn’t impossible. If it were him fighting those two he would also charge straight towards them. Seeing how these bandits fared, that would’ve been the last mistake of his life.
“Boss, maybe you should talk to them. We can give them their money back.” the smart guard offered another piece of advice.
“I don’t know Jake.” Red shook his head. “They might find it offensive. After all, for someone capable of raising such a disciple a hundred gold pieces is nothing. Hmmm, but we do have something here that might interest them…” Red scrunched his brows while thinking.
“Yes… If we were to present it as a gift they would be honor bound to help us if we run into trouble later on. Yes… That could work, but I have to discuss this with the caravan master first. He’s in charge of the goods, we’re just plain old muscle.” Red thought about this for another moment, but in the end he lacked the authority to arbitrarily hand out valuable merchandise.
With his mind made up the scruffy man walked straight towards a wagon that looked no different from the others.
Red moved aside the waxed cloth and climbed aboard, finding himself in front of an ornate wooden door. He knocked on the door twice rapidly then after two breaths knocked once more.
“Yes Red, what is it?” the sound came from an intricate blood-red seal drawn on the door.
“Sir, do you mind letting me inside? I need to bring something to your attention,” Red uttered, apparently still considering things.
“Ooh. It’s that serious?” After a few moments the ornate door swung open on its own.
“Come in. This is the first time you’re consulting me since your mission started. What could be so important?” The sound still didn’t come from inside, but rather from Spell Formation painted on the doorframe.
Archibald’s lessons:
Apparently the times have grown really hard for common folk. When I was a child peasants were free to live their lives, even if they were poor. Now, with this inner conflict, their status had dropped to the point near slavery.
While I understand that this is all for the glory of the human race, I’m not sure I condone this new caste division of society.
