The campfire had burned down to glowing embers by the time Lyla finished her story. The air was thick with the weight of her words, and the camp had fallen into a hushed silence, the only sound being the soft crackling of the dying fire. Sam, still processing the depth of Lyla's pain and the injustices her people had suffered, sat quietly beside her, his mind racing with thoughts of what they needed to do next.
Roran, the camp leader, finally broke the silence. "We need to move carefully. The soldiers at the nearby camp aren't going to hand over that key just because we ask them nicely."
Lyla nodded in agreement, her expression serious. "That's not easy. They won't give you the key if you just ask."
Sam, still fueled by the determination sparked by Lyla's story, stood up with a determined look on his face. "Okay then, I'll kill them and take the key."
The bluntness of Sam's statement sent a ripple of shock through the group. They stared at him, a mix of disbelief and awe in their eyes. Lyla, though she had come to understand Sam's strength, still found herself surprised by his sheer confidence.
"Sam, they're strong," she said, her voice laced with concern.
Sam turned to her, flashing a grin that was half serious, half mischievous. "And I'm stronger."
His words hung in the air, brimming with a quiet, unshakable confidence that left the others momentarily speechless. Roran, who had seen many brave souls over the years, couldn't help but feel a sliver of hope at the conviction in Sam's voice. But he also knew that raw strength alone wouldn't be enough.
"We'll need a plan," Roran said, his tone measured. "Charging in headfirst might work in some cases, but these soldiers are well-trained and heavily armed. We need to be smart about this."
The group began to huddle closer, starting to whisper ideas and strategies, sketching out potential plans in the sand with sticks. They discussed distractions, diversions, sneaking in under the cover of darkness—all the usual tricks.
But as Lyla turned to ask Sam what he thought, she realized something was wrong. The spot where Sam had been standing just a moment ago was now empty. She blinked in confusion, looking around. "Uh… where's Sam?"
Everyone else paused, heads swiveling as they searched the immediate area. Roran scratched his head, utterly baffled. "He was just here…"
A beat of silence passed before the sudden, booming sound of a voice echoed through the night, coming from the direction of the soldiers' camp.
"EVERYBODY LISTEN TO ME!"
Lyla's eyes widened in horror as she recognized Sam's voice. "No… he didn't…"
The group quickly scrambled to their feet, sprinting toward the source of the commotion. As they reached the edge of the camp, they were greeted with a sight that left them both stunned and incredulous.
Sam stood right in front of the soldiers' camp, casually leaning on his sword like he was just out for a Sunday stroll. The soldiers, now fully awake and very much alert, were gathering in front of him, weapons drawn, clearly not sure whether to attack or just gape at the audacity of the lone figure standing before them.
Sam, unfazed by the dozens of sharp, pointy things aimed his way, flashed a confident smile. "Alright, here's the deal! I'm giving you two choices. Option one: you hand over the key to the teleporter. Option two: you all… just die. Simple, right?"
The soldiers stared at him, utterly bewildered by the sheer gall of his words. It was as if they were trying to figure out whether he was serious or if this was some elaborate joke they were not in on.
A burly captain with a scar running down his cheek finally found his voice, though it came out more as a confused sputter than anything else. "Who… who do you think you are? You can't just walk in here and—"
Sam held up a hand, cutting him off. "Oh, I know what you're going to say. 'Who are you?' 'What do you think you're doing?' Blah, blah, blah. Look, I'm a busy guy, so let's skip the formalities, shall we? Key or… you know, that other option."
The captain's face turned an interesting shade of red as his anger boiled over. "You've got some nerve, kid! Do you really think you can just walk in here and make demands?"
Sam shrugged nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather. "Well, I did just walk in here, didn't I? So, technically, yes."
At this point, the soldiers were looking at each other, some of them clearly struggling to keep straight faces. It was hard to take someone seriously when they were acting like they owned the place, especially when that someone was standing alone against an entire camp of trained soldiers.
Another soldier, clearly trying to be the voice of reason, raised his hand. "Uh, sir… maybe we should hear him out? I mean, he did just stroll in here without flinching…"
Before the captain could yell at him for insubordination, another voice broke through the tension. "Stand down, Captain."
A tall, lean man with an air of authority stepped forward, his expression one of cautious amusement. He clearly had no idea what to make of Sam, but he was intrigued nonetheless. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Which is it?"
"Depends on the day," Sam replied with a smirk. "But today, I'm leaning toward brave. So, what's it going to be? Key, or are we really doing this?"
The man, still smiling faintly, crossed his arms. "You're offering us two choices. But what if I don't like either of them?"
Sam tilted his head as if considering this seriously. "Hmm, fair point. How about a third option? I beat you all senseless, take the key anyway, and still make it back in time for dinner. Sound good?"
The soldiers blinked, some of them actually snickering at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. The captain looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but the man in charge simply chuckled.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But if you think confidence alone is going to get you that key, you're sorely mistaken."
"Confidence? Nah," Sam replied, stepping forward with a grin. "I've got a lot more than that."
The tension in the air was palpable, but there was an underlying current of humor that made the whole scene surreal. The soldiers were on edge, yet they couldn't help but be disarmed by Sam's unconventional approach.
Meanwhile, Lyla and the others watched from the shadows, their hearts racing for entirely different reasons. Lyla could hardly believe what she was seeing, part of her torn between wanting to strangle Sam for being so reckless and admiring him for his unyielding courage—or maybe it was just plain insanity.
"Well," the leader of the soldiers finally said, after a long pause. "I suppose there's no harm in hearing you out. But don't think for a second that we'll just hand over the key because you asked nicely."
Sam flashed a winning smile. "I never ask nicely. But I do have a way of getting what I want."
The soldiers, still wary but now more curious than anything, lowered their weapons just slightly. The leader gestured for Sam to approach, clearly intrigued by what would happen next.
As Sam stepped forward, Lyla couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "He's going to get himself killed one day…"
Roran, standing beside her, just shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "If he does, he'll probably talk his way out of it, too."