The night air was heavy with the stench of blood and burnt wood. The bodies of the bandits lay scattered across the clearing, their twisted forms illuminated by the flickering embers of the dying fire. The once-rowdy camp was now silent.
Dikun Silver stood in the center of it all, his sword still slick with crimson. Each breath came slowly, the adrenaline ebbing from his veins. His warband gathered around him, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and grim satisfaction.
"We won," Lorin murmured, his trembling hands still clutching his spear. "We actually won."
Dikun gave a nod, though the weight of the moment left him little comfort. "We did."
But the price of victory was plain. The first kill was a burden no words could lift, and the young spearman's wide eyes betrayed the lingering shock. Dikun placed a steady hand on Lorin's shoulder.
"It will stay with you," he said softly. "The faces, the sounds. But you did what you had to."
Lorin swallowed, nodding weakly. "I won't forget."
"Nor should you," Dikun replied. "But you live, and so do your comrades. That is why we fight."
---
Loot and Spoils
"Search the bodies," Dikun ordered, his voice low but firm. "We take what we need."
The warband moved with grim efficiency. Cren, the ever-opportunist, rifled through pouches and torn satchels for anything of value. Ogar pried a half-dented steel helm from one of the fallen, testing its fit.
Bran recovered a fine yew bow, clearly looted from a previous victim. He ran his fingers along the smooth wood, a faint smile of approval tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Better than what I had," the archer said. "A fair trade."
Among the debris, Saria knelt by a fallen bandit, her dagger still gleaming with the blood of her vengeance. She said nothing, her gaze distant. The satisfaction she had sought was fleeting, leaving only a hollow silence.
"Found something," Elira called, lifting a small leather pouch. She tossed it to Dikun, who opened it to reveal a scattering of silver coins.
"Not much," Dikun muttered, "but enough to split fairly."
He paused, his eyes catching the sight of a torn flag draped over a crude wooden pole — a black wolf's head against a crimson field.
"Their sigil," Rudric grunted. "Might be worth something to the bailiff."
Dikun tore the flag down, the dark fabric stained with ash. "We'll take it. Proof of what we've done."
---
Burying the Dead
Though the bandits deserved no honor, Dikun was not a man to leave bodies to rot. The warband worked swiftly, digging shallow graves along the edge of the clearing. No words were spoken as the fallen were laid to rest, bandit and victim alike.
Lorin's hands trembled as he lowered a body into the earth. The weight of death was a cruel teacher, and he had learned its lesson well.
"They had their choices," Rudric said simply, shoveling dirt over the last grave. "We had ours."
"And we'll face them again," Dikun added, his voice resolute. "But next time, we'll be stronger."
---
The Road Back
By dawn, the warband was on the move once more. The path through the forest seemed less ominous now, though the distant caw of crows marked the presence of death.
The air was cool, the golden rays of morning light filtering through the trees. Despite the weight of the previous night, Dikun felt the smallest sense of triumph.
But this was only the beginning.
"Once we return to Sasau, we'll claim our pay," Dikun said, his voice firm as he addressed the warband. "Then we find our next contract. We grow stronger. We make a name for ourselves."
"And what name will that be?" Elira asked, riding at his side.
Dikun considered her words. He was no noble, no knight. His name carried no legacy. But it would.
"Silver," he said, his eyes burning with determination. "We'll be known as The Silver Company."
The warband rode on, the promise of gold and glory guiding their path.
And in the shadows of the realm, whispers of their deeds had already begun.