The dense forest swallowed the sunlight, casting long shadows along the winding dirt path. Twigs snapped beneath boots as Dikun Silver led his fledgling warband through the narrow trail. The trees stood tall, ancient and gnarled, their bark scarred by time.
Behind him, Elira walked with her bow slung across her back, eyes ever watchful. Rudric kept a steady pace, the heavy axe at his side swaying with each step. The rest of the band moved in cautious silence, their hands gripping weapons that bore signs of rust and wear.
"Stay sharp," Dikun called over his shoulder. "The bandits know these woods better than we do. If they ambush us, we won't see them coming."
Lorin's knuckles were white around his spear. The young man had been restless since the march began, his fear only thinly masked by the hardened set of his jaw.
"How far do you reckon they are?" Lorin asked.
Elira answered, her voice low. "The bailiff said the last caravan was hit a day's ride from Sasau. We're close."
Dikun nodded, scanning the woods. The contract was clear — find the bandits, eliminate them, and return to claim the bounty. Simple on paper. In reality, it would be anything but.
---
Signs of Trouble
Hours passed, the sunlight fading into a dull amber glow. The forest grew silent, save for the distant call of a crow. Dikun's instincts prickled. Something was wrong.
"Hold."
The warband obeyed, their footsteps ceasing in unison.
Elira crouched, inspecting the muddy path. "Tracks. Fresh."
Dikun knelt beside her. The prints were deep — boots, heavy and hurried. Horses had passed through too, their hooves churning the soil.
"Bandits?" Rudric grunted.
"Likely," Elira replied. "And not long ago."
Dikun's gaze hardened. "We follow."
---
The First Encounter
The trail led them deeper into the woods, where the trees closed in tightly. The air grew thick, damp with the smell of earth and rotting leaves. It wasn't long before the unmistakable sight of smoke curled through the air.
"Campfire," Bran whispered. The archer's sharp eyes traced the wisps of gray. "They're close."
Dikun raised his hand, signaling the others to crouch low. Saria moved with cat-like silence, her dagger already in hand. Cren and Ogar exchanged a knowing glance, the promise of violence evident in their smirks.
The warband crept forward, inching through the underbrush. Finally, the camp came into view — a clearing tucked beneath the shadows of towering oaks.
There were ten bandits, their weapons discarded as they laughed and drank around a crackling fire. A few carcasses of stolen livestock roasted on makeshift spits. The spoils of their latest raid.
"They're unprepared," Rudric whispered.
"Which means we don't waste the advantage," Dikun replied. His voice was calm, but the fire in his eyes burned fierce. "No mercy. They gave none to the caravans."
The warband nodded.
"Positions," Dikun ordered. "Bran, Saria — flank left. Elira, right. The rest, with me."
---
The Attack Begins
The night air was thick with tension. Bran nocked an arrow, his fingers steady. Saria moved like a shadow, vanishing into the darkened brush.
Dikun raised his sword.
"Now."
The first arrow struck true. A bandit slumped forward, clutching his throat as blood spilled across his chest. Panic erupted. The remaining brigands scrambled for their weapons, but Dikun was already upon them.
He lunged, his blade slicing through the air. A bandit barely had time to raise his axe before Dikun's sword drove through his gut. The man crumpled, his scream silenced by the gurgle of blood.
Rudric's axe came down in a brutal arc, cleaving through another foe's shoulder. Lorin thrust his spear, driving it deep into the side of a man who had tried to flee. The young farmer's face twisted in shock as the bandit collapsed, lifeless.
"Stay focused!" Dikun barked. "They won't hesitate to kill you!"
A sword clashed against his, the force of the blow vibrating through his arms. The bandit, a wiry figure with a jagged scar across his face, snarled as he pressed forward.
"You've got guts, boy," the bandit spat.
Dikun gritted his teeth, twisting his blade free and delivering a swift kick to the man's knee. The bandit stumbled, and in that instant, Dikun's sword found his neck.
"Not enough," Dikun said coldly.
The last of the bandits broke. They turned, their courage shattered, and fled into the woods. But Bran's arrows were faster. One after another, the shafts flew true, dropping the cowards before they could disappear into the dark.
Silence fell. The crackling fire remained the only sound.
"It's done," Elira said, wiping the blood from her dagger.
Dikun lowered his sword, his chest heaving. The bodies of the fallen littered the clearing, the stench of blood mingling with the smoke. His warband stood victorious, but the cost was visible in their eyes.
Lorin's hands shook, his spear still slick with crimson. Saria stared down at one of the bodies, her expression unreadable.
"We did what we had to," Dikun said, his voice firm. "They would have done the same to us."
The young leader knew this was only the beginning. More battles awaited. More blood would be spilled. But with every victory, Dikun Silver's name would grow.
And soon, the lords of the realm would have no choice but to take notice.