Nobody was surprised when Johns and Josh caravan suffered two nighttime raids in the first couple of days after leaving Millstone. During the first one Wolf did nothing, but the second group was not as lucky.

Half their number headed straight towards the wagon in which Archibald and Wolf were resting.

“Dad, I’ll be right back.” Wolf suddenly said, and left the wagon while casting Subtle Silence.

Two minutes later the boy walked in, cleaning himself and his blade.

Wolf did his killing coldly and professionally, just like his father taught him. He aimed for the instant death spots, usually the back of the head. That would spare his victims from feeling pain as much as possible given their violent deaths.

As far as Wolf was concerned he was showing them mercy by granting swift and painless deaths. Those bandits would be reborn soon enough anyways…

Half an hour later, the Johns and Josh caravan guards found the bodies of dead bandits. The ghastly sight made grown men shudder and whisper amongst themselves in fear.

Twenty-odd people were lying on the ground. Each with an identical wound on the back of the head. Luckily, there weren’t any huge gaping holes blasted through the bodies, but considerably less disturbing marks left by a regular slender sword or rapier.

There were no witnesses to this battle. Due to that nobody noticed that Wolf had started developing a baleful aura. This was the type of blood-chilling air a warrior with countless dead had about them.

Most adventurers and guards had it, but it was quite weak. Their murders were rarely in cold blood and often had a different nature to them.

The effect was more visible on murderers and veteran brigands. Just seeing them people would feel chills run down their spines. It was the air men got from murdering helpless people or dominating battlefields.

If developed to a high enough level, this aura alone could paralyze your enemies. As for those with stronger wills, even they would be shaken to the point that they were unable to fight properly. With each step the strong got stronger. With each step they left the weak further and further behind.

***

Three months and two more towns passed. The caravan had finally entered the border region between Northshield and Silverhound. This was the most dangerous leg of the journey. If a day passed without an attack from bandits it was considered peaceful.

The attacks ended quite quickly. The bandits would fire a volley or two of arrows. Then, when they saw how quickly Johns and Josh caravan guards reacted the gang would flee. Just based on their quick reactions it was plain to see that these guards were professionals and a tough nut to crack.

Save for those probing attacks, there was no real combat and Red was perfectly fine with that. These men they encountered were veteran bandits. If the guards gave chase, they would be ambushed at least once and could suffer casualties. Cleaning someone else’s duchy for a handful of silver wasn’t worth risking his men’s lives.

Ever since the caravan had entered the border region, Wolf didn’t dare carve the sixth column while they were on the move. Instead he slightly awakened his senses, and carefully observed the surroundings while listening to Archibald’s lessons whenever the man was free to teach.

On three occasions Wolf noticed large groups of exactly one hundred men. They all seemed tough and had a thick murderous air about them, but the groups never engaged.

Red would wave a blue flag with a silvery-gray hound embroidered in the middle. When the bandits waved back with a white flag, Red would go over, talk with them a bit and then return. These bandits ignored the caravan and the guards ignored them in turn.

Archibald saw that his boy was confused the first time the scene happened.

“Son, don’t you remember that back at Honest Man’s Place they told us that Dukes had sent their soldiers to raid their neighbors? Johns and Josh merchant group is from Silverhound, so their soldiers obviously won’t attack them.”

It probably wasn’t all that simple. As far as Archibald could see, those people posing as bandits acted too friendly with Red. The big man now regretted not paying attention to politics back in the day. The older he got the more he found faults with his past self’s laziness and lack of interest in everything besides magic. Instead of idly speculating, Archibald had a real threat to warn his son about.

“Son, if my guess is correct, the most dangerous part of the journey will be once we enter Silverhound. Northshield troops should be there posing as bandits. Most likely in one hundred man companies, just like these Silverhound soldiers. Be prepared to act, even if mister Red doesn’t call for your help. Once a battle starts it may be too late for them to call for help…”

***

A week later Red approached Archibald after dinner.

“Sir Malcolm, in a couple of days we will be entering Silverhound. That’s the most dangerous leg of the journey. We can expect to encounter at least one one-hundred-man squad under Northshield’s banner. I’d greatly appreciate it if your son gets involved. That way we should get over this rough patch without casualties. However, if we clash with more than one such squad at the same time I’m afraid you will have to get involved personally.”

“I’ve already told you a dozen times, my son is much more competent in battle than I am,” Archibald said. “As long as he goes all out he can wipe out three hundred trained men all by himself.”

However, the big man was worried how much this would exhaust his boy. However, hearing the warning did make Archibald start weighing the odds of him having to get involved. With these fifty men and the impact Wolf’s slaughter would have on the enemy's morale, they should be able to win against four hundred, maybe even five hundred, with horrifying casualties.

As for Red, he couldn’t believe the nonsense Sir Malcom was spouting. A child slaughtering three hundred men by himself? He'd paid attention to Wolf’s battles and the aftermath.

Fifty soldiers were most likely the boy’s limit, but Red had to keep his mouth shut. Maybe there were circumstances he was unaware of. Besides, Archibald was a customer paying for protection, and yet there he was, asking him for help. If someone heard that guards were asking for protection from their clients, Johns and Josh merchant group would become a laughingstock.

Thinking up to here Red realized that their client was also cooking for everyone from time to time...

“How come you cook so well?” Red asked out of the blue.

The question caught Archibald off guard. “Well, my mother used to be a cook. I used to help her out when I was little and had to do everything based on my nose. As time passed I kept on cooking for myself and I became better and better at it...”

Archibald slowly entered the lecturer mode. He started talking about random problems in cooking and how to solve them, completely defusing the embarrassing situation from a moment ago…

***

Several days later the caravan finally crossed the no man's land, and officially entered the Silverhound duchy.

There were no real borders, nor border guards. In fact there were no armed forces affiliated with the two Dukes anywhere in the vicinity. The Emperor had issued a proclamation that anyone robbing or pillaging their own people wasn’t fit to be a ruler.

Since that was the case nobody dared to do anything in their own territory, nor in the zones where ownership wasn’t one hundred percent clear. It was the exact opposite of what was happening before. Back then, Dukes and nobles constantly battled over disputed border regions.

As they left one such region, a tense air slowly crept up on people. Within half a day everyone was on edge. Well, everyone save for Wolf. The boy didn’t seem to pay much attention to the tense air. Unknown to everyone else, he was doing as his father had told him, traveling on full alert. Meaning Wolf’s senses were a quarter awake, and he could hear guards muttering and farting, as well as the annoying squeak of the fifth wagon’s rusted axis.

As for those farting, muttering caravan guards, they were prepared for a life or death battle. They were overwhelmingly stronger than roadside brigands. They were better trained than regular troops. However in this region they might run into the elites of the Northshield army. If they did, it was certain that they would be heavily outnumbered. If Archibald and Wolf weren’t here their only assurance was their riches and their caravan master.

Oddly enough, Archibald was the most nervous one, but tried not to show it on the surface. The man quietly meditated, and did his best to fill his Mind Palace with as much Soul Force as possible.

Just as everyone had feared, only half a day after leaving the disputed region the caravan ran into an organized group of one hundred men.

Their leader had sharp features, several strands of gray in his hair and his grizzled beard. The group showed no sign of aggression, even though the bandits were neatly split into squads behind their leader, ready for battle.

Despite the fact that they were just passively standing, the group gave off a bloody air. These men had obviously gone through thick and thin together, and survived countless skirmishes. However, these men appeared to be tired of this kind of life at the same time.

Red grit his teeth. There was no avoiding this fight. They were a slow, juicy target. To make matters worse, these people were the elites of Northshield. Once a fight broke out here, it would have a very bloody end for both parties.

The caravan pulled to a stop about twenty meters away from the brigands.

“Greetings friends!” the bandit leader shouted in a rough voice that seemed used to yelling. “I’m sure neither you, nor us have any desire to fight and die over a handful of coins. I’m sick and tired of this job, and I can bet that you are too. Please take me up on my offer, and just calmly leave your cargo behind. That way nobody gets hurt, and everyone gets to live happily ever after. What do you say?”

Archibald and Wolf observed from their wagon, which was now the second one in the train. Both father and son grimaced at this scene.

Archibald could feel the resignation in the man’s voice and felt sorry for him. The man was a military officer that probably enlisted to defend his country from elven incursions. Yet, here he was, reduced to a common robber, ordered to attack civilians, which he was supposed to protect.

Even though he had almost the exact same expression as his father, Wolf’s thoughts were radically different.

What gives them the courage to act like that? Do they own the road or something? They are just a hundred weaklings that don’t know their place…

And they want us to surrender and rob dad?

Wolf felt his anger welling up.

“Dad, I can probably kill them all in a couple of minutes.” the boy didn’t bother to whisper.

Since his words were neither loud, nor quiet the bandits naturally heard them and frowned. As for the caravan guards, they had awkward and somewhat cowed expressions. They were well aware of how terrifying this child was…

Suddenly finding himself the center of attention Archibald shushed his son. “Son, I already told you, even if you can do it, it’s not polite to say such things aloud. And you should learn to read the situation while you’re at it. You’re just fanning the flames.”

Wolf gave his father a quizzical look, but still obeyed and muttered in a hushed voice. “Since when do I need to be polite with people trying to rob us? Don’t we just kill them whenever they come at us?”

Archibald bit his lip for a moment. This was an awkward question. If you looked at the situation objectively, these people were no different from the other bandits they had encountered so far. The only difference was that these people were pressed into banditry not by famine, but by direct order from their commander.

“Well, there really is no need to be polite. But that doesn’t mean you should act all cocky as you just did. You know, there is a story of a great warrior that tripped and ended up impaling himself on a young farmer’s pitchfork.” Archibald whispered to Wolf.

He didn’t feel worried for his safety. The way those soldiers were lined up, Wolf could kill a third of them with a single Subtle Fireball, which hopefully the boy was already casting.

The bandit leader’s face was dark. Those two were acting so carefree and disrespectful that it pissed him off. Seeing that the man was still whispering taunts and insults in the boy’s ear made him feel even more infuriated.

Those two were wearing Mage’s robes, which had him worried for a moment. But when the boy called the big man father he eased. They were probably conmen pretending to be a Mage and his apprentice. No Mage worth his salt would have a child before reaching the peak of his career.

With a snort the man turned a blind eye to Archibald’s and Wolf’s horseplay and focused on Red. The man appeared dangerous, and since he had stepped forward it meant he had some authority in the caravan.

“Ahem,” Red cleared his throat and started speaking, “I see that the good sir is a gentleman, which is a rare sight these days. I will also act like a gentleman and give you a fair warning. If you return to your normal lives and give up this shameful lifestyle that seems to have been forced upon you, you may all leave here with your lives.” While Red said he would act like a gentleman his words were anything but.

Initially the Hundred-man-commander was alarmed a bit. Nobody in the caravan seemed to take him and his men as a threat. But then he was irked by Archibald and Wolf. The way Red acted didn’t help either. If it wasn’t for the way these people looked down on him he would’ve likely just let this caravan pass. His mission wasn’t to stop and destroy every caravan. No, he was just to rob and pillage as he saw fit.

So far he even spared anyone not interested in putting up a resistance and held his men in check. But this situation made him grit his teeth.

“Kill these clowns!” the man roared angrily, followed by a cheer from his men. They were also pissed off by the overconfident and overbearing tone which their targets were using.

Those soldiers immediately split into twenty groups of five and charged towards the caravan. Red’s mercenaries and wagon drivers were already prepared for the clash and had formed three-man-squads often used by the Silverhound soldiers.

Unexpectedly, both groups started the fight very conservatively. A couple of probing blows were exchanged, but resulted in no injuries. Both groups were very disciplined and nobody seemed interested in taking a risk to kill the enemy. The Northshield soldiers had two spearmen and three swordsmen in each group, while the guards wielded mostly swords or sabers, covering each other’s back in a triangle formation that would fan out as needed.

Northshield troops relied on their superior numbers, and wanted to tire out the enemy to minimize their casualties. The caravan guards on the other hand waited for something else.

Wolf’s silvery sword had already appeared in his hand as he dashed towards the nearest group of enemies. Midway, his speed surged as he finished casting Subtle Swiftness.

Wolf rarely used this spell. When he fully awoke his senses, the time around him slowed down a great deal. Now it slowed down even more, but the spell’s effect didn’t end there. The speed at which Wolf moved or executed strikes doubled, making killing these people ridiculously easy.

*Slash! Slash! Stab!*

Wolf reached the first skirmish and just seemed to dash through. Two screams rang out as a pair of swordsmen toppled to the ground with their legs severed. The spearman didn’t even get to scream, only made some gurgling noises. The rapier-like sword stabbed him through the unguarded armpit, piercing all the way to the neck.

In an instant the leisurely five on three became a struggle to survive for the two Northshield soldiers.

Wolf didn’t spare those trash a second glance. He didn’t even need to use any maneuvers, just plain old slashes and stabs were enough to deal with this lot. While he was heading towards the next target Wolf started enhancing himself with a Subtle Strength of the Ox.

Wolf prioritized speed and maiming, instead of finishing off the enemies. He slashed or stabbed where he saw an opening, and then moved on to the next group. Under the effect of Swiftness, with his strength and agility increased, the boy destroyed these elite soldiers.

When Wolf’s agility increased, so too did the number of soldiers he directly killed. It had almost become like hitting stationary targets.

Wolf moved like the wind sweeping the bandits locked in skirmish with the guards. By the time their commander had realized what was going on Wolf had already taken out thirty-two of his men and tipped the balance of nine small battles.

Not even a minute had passed. Northshield soldiers' morale plummeted, and the squads that were still standing were now paying more attention to the demon sweeping through the battlefield than the caravan guards. Still, no amount of vigilance could save them.

In an instant the demon child brought down another group. He single handedly sent five heads flying. Finally the hundred-man-commander panicked.

“Retreat! We don’t wish to fight anymore!” The caravan guards paused for a moment when they heard this, but Wolf didn’t falter one bit. In fact the boy silently cursed them.

The fight stops just because you say it stops?! Do you think this is a game where you can take a break or quit if you’re losing?!

Watching the situation Archibald hesitated for a moment. These people were his countrymen, his kind. He may have even led their fathers or grandfathers on a battlefield years ago.

Should I shout for Wolf to stop or not? Archibald’s indecision at this point cost quite a number of lives.

“Run!” Hundred-man-commander issued the order for full retreat. His courage broke when he saw that his men were still dropping dead despite his plea for surrender.

Archibald’s lessons:

Due to their short lifespans orcs and goblins sometimes go for two or three generations between Monster Beast assaults.