A Few Days Ago.

“Ugh"

Olin was kicked again. The mercenaries had killed all of his brethren. Still unable to find his captain, they resorted to beating the information out of him. With the moon sailing across the sky, his defiance was proving a nuisance. Two of the mercenaries were particularly agitated.

“Let's just kill him and look for the rest of the group ourselves. The more time we take here the further away they get.”

“If this guy really is Olin Cassel, then these guys are what's left of the Hartgeer Bandits. Where would they go?”

“Okay. Let's assume they are still in the city. While we’re here, they could be taking more hostages.”

“With what’s left of their numbers, I doubt they’d want to come into contact with us at all. It's far more likely they'll attempt to hide and wait until we leave.”

A third mercenary cut in, “Which, by the way, is something we have to do pretty soon. So killing him and moving on may be our best bet. The garrison can deal with whoever they have left.”

They all looked towards Nyle, the head of their party. He made all the big decisions. Noticing the attention of the group gravitating towards him, Nyle stood. He walked over to Olin and stared him in the eyes. He still hadn’t told his party what his captain told him. It was important information, groundbreaking information. It was information he needed to get back to his guild immediately. If it was true, that is. An honest outlaw was somewhat of an oxymoron. He needed more information, but he didn’t have the time.

“No. Sara, heal him. Just enough so he won't die. We're going to bring him along.”

Mildly shocked, Sara got to healing him. The rest of group looked at each other and shrugged.

“With that settled, we need to pay the head of the garrison here a visit.”

----------

The five members of the Hartgeer Bandits that survived the massacre of their group had found refuge in a bar. The civilians that hid in that bar were long dead. The males had been killed swiftly, the females less so. Most of the bandits believed today would be their last, they made sure they would leave drowned in pleasure. Three of the five survivors were passed out in various locations, the alcohol in their systems denying their bodies consciousness. One of the original five had died in his sleep. The captain however, laid awake.

He had declined to participate in the raping or the bingeing. He merely stared at the ceiling. His anger had washed away, the quick decimation of his group replaced it with an agonizing emptiness. Everything he had done, had built, it was all gone. He grew up the poorest of the poor. His father died in the mines when he was just three. Losing their source of income, his family were kicked out of their house. Settling in the slums, his mother was raped their second day there. His older brother, trying to stop her assailants, was killed. He didn’t understand what was happening at the time, he just knew his house of four had become a house of two. Eight years later it would become a house of one. His mother started coughing one day and it persisted for what felt like forever. Then, almost miraculously, it stopped. Replacing it was a cold stillness. From that point on, he did whatever he had to do; rob, rape, kill, to make sure nothing could be taken from him ever again. Yet here he lay, years of that hard work toppled in little over a week. Everything but the clothes on his back, taken. While his pride would not allow him to give up on life just yet, he didn’t sit too far from the edge.

When the bandits awoke in the morning, they were greeted with the death of one of their brethren. They did not mourn. He was merely one of dozens they had lost that night. One of hundreds if the past two weeks were counted. The men sat in the bar, still drinking, sullenly. All of them looked like dead men walking, all of them except the Captain. He awoke that morning with vigor, with purpose. To a bandit, murder was the solution to every problem. Somehow, through years of comfort, he had lost sight of this.

Now, he only had one problem. An Imurian malsir.

---------

Nyle stood up, “That should be all. We have to get going, but thank you for your time. I hope everything goes smoothly.”

Emont stood as well, “No, thank you." He reached out his hand, "You’ve been a huge help. I can’t imagine what would have happened if your team wasn’t here.”

The two men shook hands and Nyle walked out of the head of the garrison’s office. He had just finished detailing who the bandits were, what their numbers should be, and how they would most likely act going forward. He also offered a few means of dealing with them. Judging by the size of the garrison, it should be fine to leave them to handle the clean up.

There was also a personal matter he had to settle.

The sky was quickly growing more purple. Their time was running out. Nyle called in the group, “We leave at sunrise. Get whatever you need to get done, done before then.”