The caravan boss, a man worn by years of travel and hardship, suddenly broke down, tears streaming down his face as he muttered to himself, "I'm such a fool... truly. I knew all along that there were bandits preying on caravans and villages alike, but I thought; foolishly, that this close to town, we'd be safe. That we were untouchable. But I was wrong. So wrong…"
His voice was thick with regret, every word laced with self-blame. He gazed out at the carnage that lay before him, his heart heavy. Strewn across the dirt were the lifeless bodies of both bandits and caravanners. The attack had been brutal. Nearly half of his people were gone, seven or eight souls now forever silenced by the clash of steel and violence.
