“At times, helping others was just the pragmatic thing to do. When you help yourself by helping others, you have far fewer reasons not to do so.” - Goras’anoviel, caravan trademaster and long-time merchant.

It was around noon when the sounds of a distant battle reached the caravan.

The old trademaster himself was the first to notice the noise, thanks to his elvish hearing, and he passed the warning down the line of wagons. Most of the passengers sequestered themselves in the passenger wagon for safety, with the exception of Aideen, Celia, and a couple who were traveling adventurers, all of whom had chosen to help out.

Immediately, the hired guards rode ahead of the wagons, focused at the front since that was where the noises came from. Before long they had approached close enough that the others also heard the sounds of battle, and the caravan proceeded warily. They saw the unfolding battle ahead of them just as they crested a small rise in the road.

“Cut off my ears and feed it to jackals…” cursed the old trademaster when he saw the unfolding situation ahead of them. A different caravan – one that came from the other side of the pass – was engaged in a fight for their life ahead of them, and were obviously losing. The caravan in question was small, only four wagons, with around a dozen guards. “Of all things, why does it have to be Cragmites?”

What they faced was a veritable tide of chitinous insects, each of which was around the size of a large dog.

It almost looked like a squirming white tide was trying to engulf the smaller caravan. The individual insects – Cragmites – were not that threatening, but there were so many of them that they threatened to overwhelm the guards simply through sheer numbers. The only reason the smaller caravan managed to hold on for so long was because they had a fire mage amongst their numbers.

Every now and then, a ball of fire would fly out from one of the wagons to explode and engulf dozens of the Cragmites in flames. The low frequency of the shots indicated that the mage either lacked the power to do it more often sustainably, or was tired, however. The caravan’s dozen guards did their best to hold off the tide of chittering mandibles, but they were clearly at their limits.

“Ride to their aid,” commanded the trademaster without much hesitation. The commander of his hired guards nodded as he heard the command and quickly arranged for the majority of the guards to ride out, leaving only a third of their numbers with the caravan. Trademaster Goras’anoviel was the senior of the other caravan’s trademaster, and thus he was in command of their combined caravan.

“That’s kind of you, sir,” said Celia from behind the trademaster. Both she and Aideen rode on the head wagon with the trademaster, in case their aid was needed.

“It’s not a matter of kindness, young miss,” replied the old elf with a shake of his head. “Those Cragmites you see? They’re horribly territorial beasts. If they attacked that smaller caravan, that meant that they considered the road to be part of their territory, and there’s no way we would be able to get through without tangling with them,” he admitted bluntly. “As such, it’s better to help out and combine our forces to clear a way in situations like this.”

“Fostering goodwill is a bonus on the side, no?” said Aideen in reply, to which the trademaster nodded his head. She then jumped down from the wagon and walked after the guards who rode to the other caravan’s rescue, staff in hand. “Come on, Celia. Let’s help them out as well. Some of them looked pretty worse for the wear.”

“C-coming!”

The old trademaster looked like he wanted to say something, but the words never left his lips when he saw Celia bring out the massive sword-staff she used from her storage. By that point, the guards who left earlier had already reached the battle. They made good use of their mounts to run roughshod over the tide of Cragmites, the taloned feet of their great birds crushing and tearing apart any of the insects unfortunate enough to be where their feet landed.

Unlike what most people thought of cavalry, the riders themselves rarely attacked. They only struck with their spears if a Cragmite happened to be a risk to their mount, like one that was preparing to bite at its legs, for example. Instead, most of their focus was on controlling their mounts. The wicked talons that adorned the feet of the great birds did the rest of the work.

White chitin was squashed and cloven apart by the powerful legs and talons, as the dozens of great birds ran through the tide of Cragmites. At times their beaks struck as well, the birds grabbing themselves a little snack during their grisly work. That naturally alleviated the pressure from the guards of the smaller caravan, and allowed them to take a breather.

Aideen and Celia arrived around then, and went to work as they helped take care of the injuries suffered by those guards. Fortunately, most of the caravan guards were dwarves from the Kingdom Down Under, and their idea of “light” armor was far heavier than what most other races had in mind. As such, the injuries mostly amounted to bruises and light cuts, as the mandibles of the cragmites failed to get through their armor for the most part.

Even though the immediate threat was lifted, the battle looked like it would go on for a long while still. Unlike most animals, swarms of insects rarely had the same fight or flight instincts, and were more prone to mindlessly swarming their targets until they were decimated or their target was gone. As such, the caravans still had a long evening ahead of them.

Aideen and Celia set themselves up by the smaller caravan in preparation of just such an evening. They would be there to heal those who were injured, come what may.