The ride was surprisingly enjoyable and filled with opportunities to meet new people. In the same wagon as Reibar was a merchant family who owned a carpet shop in the capital. They were returning there after delivering a large order in Marrowfield. According to the merchant, making such deliveries with his wife and two children felt like a family vacation.
Most of the other passengers were citizens of Marrowfield, desperate to escape the looming shadow of war and eager to get as far away as possible.
The caravan travelled from dawn till dusk. When the sun set, the passengers would disembark, gather around a bonfire, and set up camp. Strangers became companions as they shared meals under the starlit sky. The women cooked, while the men ventured nearby to hunt. Naturally, Reibar joined the adventurers escorting the caravan on their hunts.
The escort party consisted of young adventurers, reminding Reibar of his old team. Their tank wielded a massive two-handed shield, using his threat-generation ability to draw the attention of monsters and beasts. The team leader, a swordsman, fought alongside the tank, skillfully cutting down their foes. A fire mage, dressed in a distinctive blue robe and hat, provided powerful ranged support. She was also the reason their bonfires burned brightly, eliminating the need to constantly gather wood, even on windy nights. Finally, there was the archer, whose precise shots offered invaluable support during battles.
It was unusual for the group to lack a healer, yet their teamwork was seamless, and they seemed capable of handling their tasks without one.
During a conversation with the merchant, Reibar introduced Hamira as his wife. Initially, he considered saying she was his sister, but there was no way anyone would believe that—they looked nothing alike. So, without much thought, he spun the story on a whim, much like the one he'd told the city guards before.
Four days later, he still regretted it.
Whenever they were in public, he had to act as though they were a close couple. This meant engaging in awkward small talk about food, the journey, and other mundane topics, all while pretending to be attentive.
"Man, this can't get any more awkward," Reibar thought to himself.
However, as the days went by, he discovered something unusual about their master-slave bond. Through their connection, he realized he could communicate with Hamira using a mental channel. This was a revelation—one he had never considered before because he rarely spoke to her in the past. Back then, he dismissed her as unimportant, but now, the ability was proving to be incredibly useful.
By conversing with her telepathically, he could give instructions or suggest excuses without anyone else noticing. It was perfect for situations where he needed her to take action without speaking directly. This way, he could also minimize any unnecessary conversation with her in public.
To avoid spending too much time around her, was the main reason Reibar often volunteered to join the adventurers on their hunts, offering his services for free. When he returned from the hunts, he would use their mental link to tell her to "go to sleep" just minutes before his arrival—another strategy to reduce interaction.
On the sixth day of their journey, the caravan entered a narrow valley nestled in a basin, flanked by steep natural walls on both sides. The passage ahead was suddenly blocked by a heap of stones. The caravan came to an abrupt halt, and the adventurers at the front immediately grew tense, readying themselves for an ambush.
The stones hadn't landed there by chance; it was clear this was someone's deliberate work.
Then they appeared—bandits and plenty of them. Emerging from behind the large rocks surrounding the caravan, they quickly encircled the group. Their presence was overwhelming, with rugged figures looming from the shadows of the cliffs and the rocky terrain.
The caravan was trapped.
Panic swept through the travellers as the bandits closed in, their numbers overwhelming. Families clung to one another, wide-eyed and trembling. The once lively caravan was now gripped by a suffocating fear.
The adventurer group at the front of the caravan tightened their formation, their weapons drawn and ready. Despite their youth and relative inexperience, they moved with disciplined urgency. The tank hefted his massive shield, taking a defensive stance, while the archer nocked an arrow, scanning the cliffs for targets. The fire mage stood behind them, her staff glowing faintly with an ember-like hue, ready to unleash destruction if needed.
The leader, the young swordsman, stepped forward. Though his grip on his sword was firm, there was a faint tremble in his legs. He took a deep breath to steady himself before addressing the bandits.
"Leave this path now," he commanded, his voice projecting as best he could. "Or I'll have no choice but to resort to violence."
The response was immediate and mocking.
The bandits burst into raucous laughter, their voices echoing through the narrow valley. Some slapped their knees; others smirked as they raised their weapons. One, a burly man with a jagged scar running across his face, stepped forward, a wicked grin exposing yellowed teeth.
"Violence?" the scarred man jeered. "Boy, you couldn't swing that blade fast enough to save yourself, let alone this lot!" His companions howled in approval.
After the scarred man's mocking laughter subsided, Reibar's patience snapped. With a smooth motion, he drew his enchanted sword, its faint glow casting an eerie light in the dim valley. Stepping out from the third wagon where he'd been stationed, he surveyed the rear of the caravan.
"You guys hold the front," he shouted to the adventurers. "I'll handle the rear!"
Hamira appeared at his side moments later, as per his instructions. She carried a spear, the one Reibar had casually told the travellers was a gift from his supposed father-in-law and part of the elaborate lie that he and Hamira were a married couple heading to the capital. Now, that lie served as a thin veil over the reality of the situation.
The bandits were no ordinary thugs. They had come prepared, clearly anticipating a caravan protected by an escort. This wasn't a simple robbery. Reibar knew all too well that if the caravan fell, it wouldn't just be money the bandits took. They would pillage ruthlessly—slaughtering the men, abducting the children, and subjecting the women to unimaginable horrors before selling them off as slaves.
This grim knowledge weighed on the travellers, their fear spreading like a suffocating fog. Mothers clutched their children tighter, and even the men capable of fighting looked pale and shaken. The caravan's hope lay in its defenders—the adventurers at the front and now Reibar and Hamira at the rear.
"Keep them safe," Reibar said to Hamira without looking at her, his voice low and firm.
Hamira nodded silently, her grip tightening on the spear. She didn't need to be told twice. Despite her position as his slave, her spear was poised and ready to strike.
At the rear of the caravan, Reibar and Hamira worked in tandem, their movements precise and devastating. Reibar wielded his enchanted sword with fluid grace, each swing amplified by his wind magic. The air around him seemed to hum with power as he enhanced his agility, darting between bandits with breathtaking speed. His strikes were swift and unpredictable, his magic causing gusts of wind that unbalanced his opponents, leaving them wide open to his lethal attacks.
Hamira, however, was a force to be reckoned with. Her spear was a blur, each thrust calculated and devastating. Her raw strength surpassed even Reibar's, and the two moved like a storm, carving through the bandits with ease. In moments, the rear flank was cleared, and hope flickered in the eyes of the terrified travellers. Some even dared to peek out of the wagons, watching their unlikely saviours push back the relentless assault.
But the bandits were no amateurs. They recognized the fire mage at the front as a critical threat and devised a devious plan. From a blind spot on the cliffs, an archer took aim, his arrow trained on her.
The fire mage, oblivious to the danger, unleashed another burst of flames, lighting up the battlefield. Her blue robes fluttered in the heat of her own magic, but then it happened—an arrow whistled through the air and struck her in the chest.
She gasped, her spell flickering out like a snuffed candle. Blood bloomed across her robes as she crumpled to the ground, her staff clattering beside her.
The tide turned instantly. The adventurer group, momentarily stunned by the loss of their mage, faltered. The bandits seized the opportunity, swarming them from all directions.
Reibar heard the commotion and turned, his heart sinking at the sight of the mage falling. Without hesitation, he imbued his legs with wind magic.
"You protect the travellers, don't let those thugs harm anyone" he yelled towards Hamira, the air swirling around him as he bolted toward the front at breakneck speed.
By the time he reached the front line, it was too late.
The adventurers had been overwhelmed. Surrounded and outnumbered, they had been forced to drop their weapons. The tank knelt on the ground, his shield discarded, blood dripping from a wound on his shoulder. The swordsman glared at the bandits, his face twisted in frustration and defeat. The archer had been disarmed, his bow snapped in two. They had all been taken hostage.
Reibar's gaze darted to the fallen fire mage. Her blue robe, now soaked with blood, lay crumpled a few paces away. Her once-luminous staff was dull and lifeless beside her.
"If only they had a healer," Reibar thought bitterly, his fists tightening around his sword hilt.
He took a step forward, his mind racing. The bandits hadn't noticed him yet, their attention fixed on their captives. His thoughts churned, weighing the odds. Charging in alone was a gamble, but leaving the adventurers and the caravan to their fate was unthinkable.
The valley fell eerily quiet, the bandits' triumphant laughter mingling with the muffled sobs of the terrified travellers. The flicker of hope that had lit the caravan moments ago was now on the brink of extinguishing entirely.
Reibar stood still for a moment, his mind racing. Every decision, every move he could make seemed impossible, but he knew hesitation would doom them all.
Then, without a word, he reached down and plucked an arrow stuck in the ground near his feet. His grip on it was steady, his expression unreadable. With a subtle motion, he channelled wind magic into his hand. The air around him stirred and swirled as he carefully took aim.
What came next was as shocking as it was decisive. The arrow, guided by a fierce gust of wind, shot forward with unnatural speed—not toward the bandits but straight toward the fallen fire mage.
The arrow struck true, piercing her throat. Her already laboured breaths ceased instantly, her body going still. The travellers gasped in horror, and even the bandits paused, momentarily stunned by the unexpected action.
But Reibar's focus wasn't on the shocked onlookers. His eyes were fixed on the fire mage's lifeless body, where he had just gained what he needed.
Before the bandits could recover from their confusion, Reibar stepped forward, his sword glowing brighter than before as he infused it with the remnants of her unleashed magic. He didn't waste time explaining or justifying his actions. To him, it was a necessary sacrifice—her fire would fuel their survival.
"You'll regret giving me time to act," he muttered, his voice low and venomous.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Back in Marrowfield, an eerie stillness filled a dimly lit armoury shop. The flickering light of a single lantern cast long, distorted shadows across the walls.
An old shopkeeper knelt trembling, his hands outstretched as he presented a gleaming silver armour to the imposing figure before him. The armour shimmered with a faint glow.
The man standing before him was a stark contrast to the modest surroundings. He was shirtless, his muscular, scarred torso radiating an aura of raw power. His black trousers clung tightly to his frame, and his thick, unruly hair cascaded down his back like a dark waterfall.
"My, my...Why did you sell my gift to a lowly human shopkeeper, dear sister? And here I was, thinking you were called back for doing your job so well—laying waste to Willowfield like a proper agent of chaos." the man talking to himself not even counting the presence of the old man.