“Yes, I know that means they can see us. Which is why we need to wait until after midnight.” Sabine drew breath. “And before you say anything I know it means they will have opened the chest, meaning its contents will need to be reclaimed from various individuals.”

“‘Nd Hank truss uns wi’ th’ shine box?” Marko asked.

This last comment shut Sabine up, leaving Hank waiting for a response. After a moment he probed.“Whats that about? Apart from me.”

The silence was telling in Hank’s mind. The three shorter people glanced back and forwards between each other before Sabine eventually responded. “He said, ‘Hank is just going trust us about the chest?’.”

“What’s that mean?” Hank asked.

Sabine sighed. “You never looked in the chest. Are you just going to trust us when we say this item or that one was in the chest?”

That silenced Hank for a moment. It was a conundrum. He thought for a moment before replying with a question of his own. “Any books, papers, maps those sorts of things in your chest?”

“No.” Sabine and the others were confused by the question.

“Well, let’s say that any of those things of interest belong to me and the rest I trust you to divide.” Hank smiled

“You’re going to trust us, just like that, to divide anything we find?” Sabine sounded suspicious.

“No. I trust you. Personally.” Hank was emphatic as he pointed at Sabine. “You are in charge of your people. If I find out later that they cheated me, you are personally responsible. Isn’t that the way your society works?”

“Sort of. Not quite.” She hedged.

“Ok, but effective command in military situations, such as this, require the concentration of power and responsibility. So how serious are you about the military aspect of the brethren?” He asked her.

“Very, but I don’t know about this concentration of responsibility and authority.” She continued to hedge.

“Ok. So, you should read Marko’s book.” Hank commented.

“I ‘ave na’ schript nay paptish.” Marko piped up.

“He hasn’t written one.” Sabine translated distractedly.

Hank waved the comment off. “Not this Marko. Chester Marko who wrote ‘Theories of military manoeuvre’. I would lend it to you, but I traded my copy back in Perison. It can be a little abstract but Marko, not you,” he pointed at Marko. “…spent a lot of time analysing why the Old Empire’s military was so successful.”

“Is it any good?” She asked, curiosity getting in the way the current situation.

“Culture is king, right?” Hank took a detour in his response.

“Yes, everyone knows this. But shouldn’t it be ‘culture is key’.” Sabine replied.

“Marko, not him, said it first. And ‘king’ is definitely correct. Key implies that it unlocks or opens the way for things. Whilst this may be true. Marko, not him, is clear that the culture of the Old Empire’s military is what defined and controlled who they were.” He paused

“The reason this is relevant for you, is that he talks about the agreement between those who lead and those led. Unspoken under most conditions but codified in the Old Empire.” Hank finished

“What agreement?” Sabine’s curiosity provoked another question.

“The agreement memorised by all in the Old Empire’s military ran to forty-seven clauses. It’s a hefty document but can be distilled down to a core idea. Those led follow those who act in the best interest of the followers.” Hank responded.

“So what.” She asked.

“You are in charge. If you only act in your own best interest or the best interest of your friends, it will become known. Then nobody will hire, follow or trust you. After all it’s incumbent on me to tell others not of your group how you behave. And if I don’t return, well that tells its own story.” Hank concluded.

“Points of reputation aren’t friends with the paymaster. Yes?” Sabine nodded as she understood Hanks point.

“I nay ken tha’ chinsee” Fritz commented occasioning a vigorous nod from Marko.

“Fritz never understood that saying.” She explained for Hank.

“Thought it was obvious. There are many ways to change your reputation. Some of those are more, shady, shall we say than others. So don’t rely on someones reputation points to guarantee payment.” Hank replied.

Hank paused for a second. “Or it could mean that your reputation doesn't earn you extra money on a job you’ve already done. Either way point made.”

“Not really.” Sabine disagreed.

Hank took a breath. “Well, if you mistreat me, eventually word will get around and you will be worse off. So really, I’m not trusting any of you. I am resting on your self-interest to continue to treat me well, because in the long run it works better for you that way.”

“And what if we don’t take the long view? Just saying.” She was interested in his thoughts.

“That’s why we’re having this conversation isn’t it. I am reminding you that it is up to you to treat me fairly. Previously you said that our agreement was over if we do not recover the chest. I am saying a similar thing about fair payment. I am the leader of the expedition north and so I am responsible for all its outcomes. You are the leader of this recovery expedition and so responsible for all its outcomes. There is no authority without responsibility.” Hank answered.

“But that’s not the way our people operate. People are only responsible for themselves.” Sabine disagreed.

“So what!”

Sabine wasn’t sure if Hank’s response was a question or statement so she asked,“what do you mean, so what?”

“Once again, thought that was self-explanatory.” Hank smiled. “Your belief does not change reality. People think their opinion matters. It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter if you agree with me that water is wet. Truth is not subject to opinion.”

“What do you mean?” Sabine hated philosophical arguments.

“It does not matter what your society is like. You stiff me here and no matter what you, I or anyone else here does, people will find out.” Hank paused for a second.

They didn’t seem to be getting it so he explained further. “You think that people hate you now because you’re short?” He paused getting a round of nods. “Wait until you all have a reputation as being thieves, dishonest or untrustworthy. See how many jobs you can get once that kind of reputation takes hold. Your group is small, they will tar everyone with the same brush.” Hank sighed.

“I bet you haven’t thought about what would happen if you went back to your previous employer. Heck if your grandkids are of your stature and set foot in that town a hundred years from now I am sure they too will be run out of town. Your people stand out. You’re all small and stocky so you’ll always be remembered. I’m not being discriminatory. I’m pointing out that you look different and that is something neither of us can change. Unfortunately, that means you will have to be twice as good as anyone else because people will always lump you together and judge you as a group.”

Hank drove on remorselessly. “You cannot afford idiocy such as this ‘I’m responsible for me alone’ nonsense. The world has decided that you are all the same. The world is judgemental. You are all very short. You standout because of your stature. So whatever one of you does, the rest will feel the result. You had better come to terms with this quick smart or none of you will survive long.”

There was complete silence in the group. Not because night was falling but rather because the three short people had never had these things set out in such a forthright manner before. It was deeply confronting. Nobody likes to hear that what they believe in is irrelevant, particularly when the consequences are dire.

A few minutes passed before anyone said anything.

“Ok. It’s my responsibility.” Sabine looked like she had swallowed something bitter. “Which means, this time you listen to what I say and do what I command.” There was no doubting that this time she meant business.

“Agreed.” Hank nodded.

“So, you all know what to do.” It wasn’t a question. “Find your spots and wait for midnight.” She turned creeping with Fritz into the lengthening shadows of dusk.

Hank followed Marko into the dappled light of the forest as they too crept off. They dropped back from the edge of the forest before circling around to the south. As they started to advance back towards the camp close to the river the moon came out. If their creeping and silent efforts had dent required so much thought and care Hank would have enjoyed the night.

As it was his stomach growled and so to keep it from waking the dead he pulled out some ‘tong to chew. The dried-out strips of game meat were a staple part of his travelling diet and he had long ago perfected his own particular blend of spices to both dry it out and to make it tasty.

Marko motioned to Hank to slow down and to crouch down. Peering ahead Hank could see someone had lit a small fire. A gentle breath of wind indicated someone was was smoking. If he had to bet, he would say it wasn’t a standard tobacco mix. It carried the faintly sweet smell of dreamweed.

They crept forward closer and closer to the bandit sentry post, drawing up to the edge of the forest. The fire in question was about seventy metres from the edge of the forest surrounded by five semi alert bandits, a definite problem.

Hank had played Firestalk as a kid, he was hopeless. The general idea of the game being, one player had to guard the fire using its light to identify people trying to sneak up towards it. He wasn’t good at sneaking, he wasn’t good at anticipating when someone was going to turn around and he really was hopeless at hiding.

These did not seem to be problems for Marko, who motioned for Hank to wait. He crept up to the edge of the forest and slowly lowered himself to the ground.

Hank had thought about Marko’s cloak previously during the tracking earlier. It was bulky, had lots of torn bits of cloth sticking out of it. It was tatty and dirty and caught on twigs bushes and leaves and anything else Marko brushed. But as Marko took a few minutes to pull the cowl over his head and arrange it so he was completely underneath Hank realised that even in the light of the moon he was virtually invisible.

It was impossible to tell the different between the Marko sized black patch and the shadows cast by the trees. Over the next hour Hank watched as Marko crept ever closer to the fire. A sentry would glance over towards a buddy for a minute or two and when he looked back a bush was a little larger, a shadow was a little blacker. Hank took the opportunity to inspect Marko.

Inspect Character Result

Name :

Marko ?

Gender :

Male

Genotype :

Human

Level :

Unknown

Reputation :

Unknown

Alignment :

Unknown

Occupation :

Unknown, Possibly Scout

Stature :

Very Short, Stocky

Still nothing really useful Hank thought. He closed the window. He went back to watching.

Hank noticed Marko had positioned himself so that the bandit he was creeping towards was between himself and the others. Suddenly, like a striking snake, Marko leapt up and grabbed the closest bandit. Hank realised that this was the signal to start attacking and sprinted from the forest towards the guard closest to him.

As he ran towards the closest guard, he saw that Marko’s first victim sinking to the ground, throat slit. In the stillness of the night the slight sucking sound the bandit made, as his lungs struggled for air, seemed to jar in Hanks ears. It was also enough to alert the rest of the guards around the fire. Marko’s second victim suddenly sprouted a knife in the chest which didn’t slow him down neither did a second that landed next to the first. The third was a different story, landing in the bandit’s throat caused a gurgling sound that at any other time would have made Hank squeamish.

These sounds prompted Hank’s target to turn away from Hank and towards Marko. ‘Perfect’ Hank thought as he brought the steel shod end of his new staff down squarely on the head of the bandit. It was the last thing the bandit ever felt.

Hank looked up from his victim in time to see a large blade sprout from the chest of one of the remaining bandits. ‘No sound coming from that one’, Hank thought as he turned towards the last guard who was drawing his bow to shoot Marko.

Marko sprinted as fast as he could towards the archer, attempting to close the gap before the bandit loosed his arrows. A long leg whipped out of the darkness, connecting with the side of the bandits head. The kick was violent enough for the bandit to drop bonelessly to the ground. Not in quite enough time to prevent Marko from being shot in his side. Fortunately it wasn’t somewhere more important, but it was bad enough for Marko to sink to the ground.

A musical voice whispered towards Hank from the shadows beside the archer. “Perhaps you can retrieve my sword on your way over. I think we should talk.”