Marschal was painfully bored of the surrounding terrain. Was that the same tree? Was that the same shrub? Were they walking in circles? The wildlife sounds were now an incessant headache and his muscles and joints were waning beneath the exhausting strain of the journey. To add insult to injury, throughout the duration of the trek Marschal was subjected to the sight of his own blade strapped to Kollo's back. Clearly, Marschal's thoughts must have been readable on his glaring face as he noticed a pair of eyes studying him.

"You won't get it back," said the boy.

With a raised eyebrow, Marschal turned to face the boy before offering him a crooked grin.

The boy furrowed his brow. "What are you grinning about?"

Marschal responded with a weak shrug. "Nothing."

"I'm sorry if that sword is important to you. But you're not getting it back. My father is too good at what he does."

Marschal fought to maintain his shrinking grin. "If you say so." The boy was about to reply before he was cut off. "How long are we going to keep roaming through this god-forsaken forest? If I didn't' know any better I'd say that we were lost."

"You can think that all you want," Kollo answered. Marschal followed the bandit's voice to see him standing atop a small hill up ahead. "But we're not lost."

"That's what stupid lost people say when they're too stupid to know that they're lost," Marschal retorted.

Kollo chuckled. "I'm sure they do." With that, the bandit leader began to walk over the crest of the hill, disappearing over the other side. "I'm sure they do."

His men followed suit, venturing up the incline with Marschal and the boy close on their heels. After a few stumbles, earning an irritated grunt from the boy, Marschal eventually reached the peak of the hill. With the higher vantage point, he was witness to an all-too-familiar sight of a continuous ocean of trees. Yet, to his surprise, he could see the edge of the expansive forest in the distance.

And not too far beyond it, a small town was nestled comfortably against a nearby river.

"Huh," was all Marschal could say.

"Like I told you."

Marschal looked down at the boy.

"He's good at what he does."

On that note, the boy walked past him and travailed down the hill to catch up to the other bandits. Marschal eyed him for a bit before following after him.

***

A shade of sombre blue coloured the sky by the time Marschal, Kollo and the rest of the group reached the town. In Marschal's estimation, the town was average and quaint in the fading sunlight. A cluster of houses and other buildings were hugging a network of roads and paths that were all connected to a main road that snaked uphill. As their feet carried them through the town, Marschal noticed the villagers slowly winding down and retreating into their homes, regarding the outsiders with wary hawk-like gazes.

"Why exactly are we here again?" Marschal asked.

He could see Kollo hesitate before answering. "We're selling you off. Remember?"

"To who?"

Kollo shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. All that matters is that he's got money." The bandit leader looked down on him with an evil smile. "Maybe you know him. Is there anyone you know who would pay anything to get their hands on you?"

Marschal fell silent.

The bandit snickered. "That doesn't sound good. For what it's worth, I hope he doesn't kill you." Kollo offered Marschal an exaggerated beaming smile. "I like you."

Kollo's words earned a lengthened bout of silence before Marschal spoke. "Well...if you feel that way..."

"Nope. Like I told you. I need the money."

Marschal shrugged. "Worth the shot."

Kollo smirked as they continued walking through the streets.

The group followed Kollo up a hill until they eventually ended up standing before a large structure resembling a town hall, looking down at the rest of the village. The building's size and wooden architecture seemed traditional to Marschal, giving him the impression of antiquity. A creaking entity that had stood on this hill for many years before and would continue to do so for many years after.

As they neared the entrance, a pair of armed guards detached themselves from their posts and approached them with purposeful strides. However, Marschal noticed that their confident gaits slowly dissipated the more they closed the distance between themselves and Kollo. Their eyes and posture cowered visibly beneath the bandit leader's regard. One of them even retreated a step.

"Tell your mayor I'm here," Kollo ordered with the authority of a man who expected to be obeyed.

And as such, one of the guards responded to his request with a shaky nod before bolting off into the building, leaving his partner alone in front of Kollo's company. Marschal couldn't help but smile internally at the audible gulp from the wide-eyed guard.

"You really are popular, huh."

Kollo didn't respond to Marschal's words.

After some time had passed, the guard finally returned from the building with a message. "H-he's ready to see you."

Like a man with an appointment, Kollo ignored both of the guards and strolled past them on his way to the building entrance. Marschal and the other bandits could only follow after him like a tail of minions.

When they entered the building, Marschal was introduced to an interior that was deceptively spacious compared to the way it looked outside. It was an elegant structure that was dressed in fine wood that accentuated its imperial importance to anyone who dared enter. Kollo's men continued to follow their leader through an aisle between two long parallel tables, presumably used for feasts, celebrations and meetings. Marschal looked to the edges of the hall to see shelves of books, trophies and other miscellaneous items. As well as a handful of people looking back at him. The further the group ventured deeper into the hall, the more he felt like the outsider that he was as more and more people glanced at them from the fringes of the building like mice in the shadows. Marschal gazed up at the second floor of the hall to see more people whispering amongst themselves from the safety of a heightened balcony.

Despite the attention of the hall's denizens, Kollo paid none of them any mind while he climbed the stairs to the upper floor with his son trailing his footsteps. Like the loyal subordinates they were, the rest of the bandits followed him up obediently, dragging Marschal along with them.

When they reached the top, people hurried to disperse and distance themselves from the intruders, forcing Kollo and his men to weave their way through the dissipating crowd. As they moved, Marschal noticed Kollo navigating his way around the floor with the familiarity of someone who had been here before. An observation proven correct by the loud sound of a door being kicked in. Clearly he had that room in mind. By the time Marschal was ushered into the room, he realized the interior aesthetic reminded him of an office of power.

At the opposite end of the room, Marschal found Kollo looming over a round robed man leaning back against a large desk.

"K-Kollo!" the round man greeted with a strained smile. "My old friend! What brings you here? We weren't expecting you for another few days."

"I decided to move up the timetable," Kollo replied.

"W-what happened to your hand?"

"Where is he?" Kollo continued, ignoring the question.

"Wh-who?"

The round man practically shrivelled beneath Kollo's cold glare.

"Oh. Him. He's, umm...he's-"

"He's here," said a stranger's voice.

Everyone suddenly turned to the open doorway to see a neatly dressed stranger with slick black hair enter the room. He was flanked by two large men who, Marschal could only surmise, were meant to be his bodyguards considering their menacing physiques. The stranger's grey eyes scanned the occupants of the office before allowing himself into the room.

"Kollo," said the newcomer, "If I knew that you were coming, I would have prepared a welcome mat for you."

"Juren." Kollo practically growled the word.

The stranger named Juren gestured at the bandit's hand stump. "What happened there?"

"I lost it," Kollo replied without missing a beat. "I said what are you doing here?"

Juren continued studying Kollo's missing hand with a raised brow before he eventually shrugged. "I heard you were in town." The stranger's eyes began to study the bandits in front of him. "Thought I'd drop in."

That was when his eyes stopped at the sight of Marschal. "Is this him then?" Marschal instinctively inched himself back from the stranger's approach while Kollo also advanced on him from his periphery. "Is this the Paravellan?" The newcomer suddenly grabbed Marschal's chin and lifted it to better analyse the merchandise. "Hm. He's not what I expected." The stranger named Juren then turned to Kollo. "Are you sure this is him?"

"You tell me."

"He's a little skinny."

"Yes, he is. But he's a Paravellan. That I'm sure of. I've met enough of them in my time."

Marschal struggled not to tear himself away from the stranger's clasp on his chin. He found it even harder not to look away from the grey eyes staring into his own.

Kollo cleared his throat. "So..."

The man named Juren turned away from Marschal to address the bandit leader. "Hm? Yes?"

"Do you have it?"

Kollo's question was met with a raised eyebrow from Juren.

"What we agreed on," Kollo pressed on. "I want it."

To Marschal's relief, Juren released his face before facing the bandit. "I already gave you gold."

"You gave me half. Half before the job was done. I want the other half now."

Marschal tensed at the cold silence as Juren slowly approached Kollo. Watching the bandit leader square up to the newcomer reminded Marschal of two territorial predators asserting their dominance.

Kollo challenged Juren with a hard gaze. "Are you trying to cheat me?"

The accusatory tone was enough for the two bodyguards to step forward which only prodded Kollo's bandits to respond in kind by obstructing their path. Marschal trembled beneath the contest between the two tribes, hoping his legs were fast enough to escape the incoming storm of violence.

Luckily there was no need for that as Juren broke the palpable silence by pulling a dagger from his belt. Kollo reached for his own blade which prompted Juren to raise his hands in defence. "Whoa, whoa, now." In one swift motion, Juren handed the dagger to Kollo, hilt first.

Marschal witnessed Kollo's tight posture visibly relax before reluctantly accepting the weapon. When Juren offered him the blade, Marschal caught a glimpse of the dagger in Kollo's hand. He had seen that intricate gold handle before. As well as the blood red ruby lining the steel edges of the knife. It would be difficult to see from where he was but Marschal also knew that if he was close enough, he would be able to see a ruby river-shaped design etched into the centre of the dagger. Marschal knew it wasn't a weapon. It was an artifact.

"What is this?" Kollo asked, twirling the dagger in his hand. "It looks very pretty. Very shiny."

"Very expensive," Juren added.

"What is it?"

"The Red Fang," Marschal answered without thinking, attracting Kollo and Juren's attention. "Where did you get that?"

Juren replied with a smirk, "A friend gave it to me."

"You know what this is?" Kollo asked.

"That belongs to the Royal Family of the Paravellan Empire," Marschal answered. "How did you get that?"

Juren ignored Marschal to address the bandit. "Are you satisfied?"

Kollo studied the blade in his hand.

"That doesn't belong to you," Marschal continued as he stepped forward. "You can't have-" He was suddenly cut off by a fist to his gut. One of Kollo's men stood over him and held Marschal up by the shoulder while he crumpled over in agony.

Juren continued his conversation with Kollo. "Well? Are we in accord?"

While Marschal was struggling to catch his breath, he slowly looked up to see that Kollo hadn't lifted his eyes up from the attractive blade.

That was when the bandit leader looked up to meet Marschal's eyes and gestured at him before speaking with Juren. "What happens to him?"

Juren looked back at Marschal before turning back to Kollo. "I don't see why that's any of your concern. You have what you want, no?"

Marschal noticed Kollo's brow slightly furrow. Was he contemplating? Perhaps that was a good sign. Marschal could see Kollo's thoughts visually shape his facial expressions. The bandit's bout of thoughtful silence was suddenly broken by a light tug at his coat. Kollo looked down to see his son's small eyes gazing back up at him. At that moment, Marschal knew that an unspoken conversation was transpiring between them. A conversation that ended when with a nod from Kollo.

"Do we have a deal?" Juren asked, almost impatiently.

Kollo slowly turned to face Juren. Then he nodded as he clasped the dagger tightly. "Yes. We have a deal."

Juren smiled. "Good."

"You bastard." The words seethed through Marschal's gritted teeth. "I saved your son." Kollo dropped his face, averting his eyes away from Marschal's glare.

Just when it seemed as if Kollo was reconsidering the deal, the bandit leader then slowly walked up to Marschal. When he stopped in front of him, Kollo gently grasped the back of Marschal's neck and softly whispered into his ear. "Yes. You did save my son." Kollo then stood back to look into Marschal's eyes. "And then I saved your life." Marschal's eyes widened. "I told you we were even."

With that, the bandit released Marschal and headed back to Juren. Kollo continued to speak. It took Marschal a brief moment to realize that the bandit's words were meant for him. "I also told you what the most important thing is in this world. Do you remember?"

Marschal did remember. "Your number one rule."

Kollo smiled. "Exactly."

"Are you finished?" Juren cut in.

"Yes," Kollo replied. "We're done here."

"Glad to hear it." Juren signalled his men with a nod.

That was when Marschal suddenly felt his shoulders compress under the grips of the two bodyguards. In reaction, he fought to wrench himself from their grasps only to be lifted up and dragged towards the doorway. "Wait. No. No! Kollo!" With his back to Marschal, Kollo approached his son and tentatively buried his hand into his scruffy hair. "Damn you, Kollo! Damn you!"

All the while, Marschal noticed the boy's eyes never leaving his own. The boy and his father were the last thing he saw before Juren exited the room and closed the door behind him.

Struggling from the guard's tight grip, it was all Marschal could do to just stand there helplessly as Juren smiled back at him.