The bandits hid within the shadows of the forest as the sun continued its descent. It had been a long wait, but finally they had something worth smiling about. After they had gone to the trouble of amassing greater numbers for a very risky plan, they’d heard voices from beyond the gates.
The bandits could not believe their luck! A banquet was being thrown, and it seemed that a number of the station guards had decided to join in the revelry. It was not long before the noise within the border station calmed and fell quieter than before.
The bandits had a clear course of action ahead of them—they would first breach the border station, then sneak through the forest and plains to Iluk Village. Once there, all they had to do was run reconnaissance and gather intelligence. Escape wasn’t likely to be an issue either—thanks to the intel they’d gathered scouting the border station in advance, they knew there were horses, and the bandits planned to leave a few men behind to ready the animals for their escape.
The stage was set. The bandits knew that this was their golden opportunity, and their blood boiled. The only questions that remained were when and how to strike. The main group wanted nothing more than to send in the others first, but the longer they waited, the more likely it was that the border station would call reinforcements.
Their chance was now. Waiting was a bad move. At the same time, there would be losses on the front lines—heavy losses—and so the bandits only crept forwards. They edged closer to the border station little by little, hesitant, not wanting to wait but not wanting to be the first to move either. Every single one of them was thinking the same thing.
Just go. Throw yourself in. I’ll be right behind you. Just go already...
The bandits glanced at one another as they inched forwards, unknowingly passing a line marked by stakes hammered into the ground. But even after they passed the line, the border station remained silent, as if waiting for something. But the bandits could make no excuses any longer—they were past the border. But as they neared ever closer, a fire blazed from one of the guard towers, and a voice spoke.
“Hold it right there! The station gates do not open after nightfall! Take another step and you will be arrested for the attempted breach of—”
The bandits did not wait for the man to finish. If anything, his commanding tone was more like a signal to attack. The bandits broke off in several directions. Some rushed to scale the walls, some darted to the left and right, and some carried a battering ram to charge through the gates.
The man who had ordered their halt from the guard towers leaped down to defend the gates himself, landing where the most bandits had gathered, and the moment he landed he swung his spear with frightening accuracy. He was a capable and experienced warrior, even in the darkness of night.
“Don’t think for even a second that we’ll allow a single bandit into Baarbadal!” he shouted.
With a single, smooth strike, he knocked the sword from one bandit’s hand, and with the next he slammed his spear into another bandit’s shield. His momentum carrying him, he then knocked two spears from bandit hands with yet another deft strike.
The man settled for weapons and did not take any lives, and this in itself was an unspoken warning: You do not stand a chance. Give up now, or your next act of defiance could come at a much higher cost.
But the bandits paid no heed to the man’s warnings. Those still with weapons clenched them tighter, and those carrying the battering ram charged in. The rest continued with their various attempts to make it in, and those who wished to fight picked up whatever weapons were dropped.
But moments later came the vicious sounds of howling, barking, and growling from among the trees, followed soon after by the shrieks and screams of any bandit who’d tried their luck in the depths of the forest. The bandits knew then that there were attack dogs on the loose and that even by the cover of night, in the darkness of the forest, they would not escape a dog’s powerful sense of smell. So they gave up on sneaking through the trees and readied their weapons.
“Hey!” barked one among the bandits. “We’re a hundred strong, and things will end better for you if you just open the gates!”
The spear-wielding man at the gates did not seem to care for numbers, and he continued to swing and thrust his spear.
“Bring a thousand! Bring ten thousand! Here in Baarbadal we eat dragons for breakfast!”
With each swing of his spear came the pained howl of a bandit. Weapons and shields flew as blood sprayed through the air, but the bandits knew they had the superior numbers. They believed that this was their battle to win, and so they pushed on.
And yet, not one man could get anywhere within reach of the spearman. Not a single bandit could land a single strike on him, and the gate behind him hadn’t even been touched. But no one realized this in the midst of battle, so they continued to charge, believing that their gamble would pay off with just a little more work.
✦ ✦ ✦
The square was luminous with the bonfire raging, and Dias looked truly dashing in his nobleman outfit. Alna was stunning as well in her flowing red skirt, woven from baar wool and animal hide, which added a touch of ferocity to her beauty. The lord of Baarbadal and his fiancée began to dance, and the villagers were in a wide circle around them, clapping and cheering.
Dias was an awkward man blessed with great physicality, while Alna was incredibly dextrous in addition to her own physical gifts. The two had practiced dancing under Lady Darrell’s watchful eye, and clearly it was paying off, as they were nothing if not the picture of grace. The priestess of the baar temple, Fendia, sat on a carpet and smiled watching the couple.
Dias’s rags to riches story of success was like the majestic rise of the sun, and Fendia found this romance budding throughout the tale to be breathtaking.
And yet, she was struck by how closely it mirrored the last chapter of the story of the founding king, a tome that was kept hidden and closely guarded in the Great Temple. Fendia, deeply faithful and pious unlike any other, had read that book religiously in secret, and she felt her heart warm to be a part of such a story herself.
Lady Darrell sat down next to Fendia and enjoyed brushing a few dogkin pups as she watched her students dance. Her gaze was exacting—much what one would expect from a teacher—but she seemed satisfied by what she saw.
“It hasn’t always been smooth sailing,” commented Fendia, “but I’m truly glad for how things have gone. If we can strengthen the bond between the engaged even just a little here at our celebration of the temple, then I’d say there was value in my coming here.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Darrell with a nod. “As subjects of the duke, and considering their ages, we want nothing more than for our lord and lady to deepen their bonds even further. Still, considering Dias’s strict adherence to official law, asking any more might prove difficult, even if the vast majority of the nobility act as if they are above such laws...”
“Dias was born and raised at the temple, and so it perhaps goes without saying. Even at the temples there are those whose duty is to educate and reprimand those who stray from the law. Dias was very close to such educators, and so it’s only natural that he feels more beholden to the law than others.”
“I see. That makes a great deal of sense. And speaking of priests, I haven’t seen the paladins around...”
Fendia covered her mouth and giggled.
“Those boys... A few dogkin arrived with a message from Canis, and they heard it. They left for the forest as quickly and quietly as they could. There’s no better way for them to put their skills to work than handling bandits. The worse they are, and the worse their crimes, the better it feels to return them to the path of righteousness. You should have seen the smiles on the paladins’ faces...”
Lady Darrell wondered if this was okay. She couldn’t help thinking that the paladins should have first reported to Dias. At the same time, this was a precious moment for Dias and Alna, and one that was to be treasured. Looked at in that light, a case could be made that the paladins were acting to ensure their lord’s time was not disturbed, so Lady Darrell gave the matter no more thought. Instead, she continued to brush the pups and watch her students dance.
Fendia giggled again at the expression on the etiquette instructor’s face and glanced east. She wondered just how many stray bandit hearts might be mended by the hands—and scepters—of the paladins, and the thought of it filled her with joy, making the banquet even more fun to be a part of.