The dirt road twisted through rolling hills, lined with wild grasses swaying beneath the midday sun. Dust kicked up with every trudge of the oxen pulling the heavily laden wagons.
Dikun Silver rode at the front, his keen eyes scanning the distant treeline. Every shadow seemed to shift with suspicion. Bandits rarely struck in the open — they preferred ambushes, preying on the careless and the weak.
But the Silver Company was neither.
"Keep your distance from the wagons," Dikun called over his shoulder. "We're not here to sit pretty — we're the shield between them and any threat."
His words were met with resolute nods.
Rudric rode on the left flank, his axe strapped across his back, while Elira kept her bow ready at the right. Bran took the rear, his keen eyes constantly watching their trail for any sign of pursuers.
Lorin and Saria flanked the center, both tense but prepared. The young spearman gripped his weapon tightly, still haunted by memories of his first true battle. Yet now, there was a newfound resolve in his gaze.
"Nervous?" Saria asked, her voice low.
"A little," Lorin admitted, forcing a smile. "But I'll stand my ground."
"You'll need to," she replied. "The road to Rattay is long. And the wolves will come."
---
The Merchant's Worry
The merchant leading the caravan, Master Gullain, rode his plump frame atop a sturdy mule. He was a man of wealth, though much of it seemed to weigh upon his belt in the form of gold chains.
"How much longer until we reach the next outpost?" Gullain asked, his voice dripping with impatience.
"Three hours at most," Dikun replied evenly. "If the roads remain clear."
The merchant snorted. "You had best hope they do. I've lost enough to those savages already. Silk, spices, even fine weapons — all stolen by worthless bandits!"
"And how many guards did you hire before us?" Elira cut in, her sharp tone betraying little patience.
"Enough to bleed my coffers," Gullain growled. "But none of them lasted. Dead or fled, the cowards all broke at the first sign of trouble."
"Then it's a good thing you hired the Silver Company," Dikun said calmly. "We don't break."
The merchant grumbled something under his breath but said no more.
---
The Scent of Ambush
Hours passed, and the sun dipped lower. The distant tree line loomed closer, the forest casting long shadows across the path. The Silver Company kept their formation, unwavering.
But Dikun's instincts screamed.
The road narrowed. Thick foliage hugged both sides, concealing whatever lurked within. The rhythmic creak of the wagons and the heavy plod of oxen were the only sounds that filled the air. Yet something was wrong.
"Elira," Dikun called, his voice low. "See anything?"
She narrowed her eyes, her fingers resting lightly on the string of her bow. "Too quiet. Not even the birds sing."
Dikun's jaw tightened. "An ambush."
He pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a halt. The caravan followed suit, the nervous oxen snorting as the sudden stillness gripped the air.
"Everyone, on guard!"
The Silver Company formed a protective perimeter around the wagons. Lorin's knuckles whitened as he gripped his spear. Saria's dagger gleamed at her side, her eyes scanning the treeline.
Rudric's voice rumbled low. "I can smell them. Filthy bastards are close."
And then, a sound — the snap of a branch.
---
The Attack
"Archers!"
Elira's cry pierced the silence as arrows streaked from the trees. The Silver Company scattered, shields raised as the projectiles thudded into the dirt.
"Hold your ground!" Dikun roared, his sword gleaming as he rode forward.
From the shadows, bandits emerged — rough men clad in patchwork leathers, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Their leader, a towering figure with a scarred face and a rusted helm, bellowed.
"Kill the guards! Leave the wagons for us!"
The bandits charged.
Lorin's spear struck first, piercing the chest of a snarling raider. The force of the blow staggered the young spearman, but he did not falter. Saria, swift as ever, lunged to his side, her dagger slashing through the exposed neck of another.
"Stay close!" she barked.
Rudric met the bandits head-on, his axe cleaving through the air with devastating force. One fell, then another — the raw strength of the warrior was unmatched.
But the bandits were many.
"Elira!" Dikun shouted. "Take the archers!"
She nodded, retreating to the treeline. With deadly precision, her arrows found their mark, cutting down the bowmen who dared reveal themselves.
"Bran, cover her!" Dikun ordered.
The archer loosed his own arrows, his aim steady despite the chaos. The bandits cursed as their ranks thinned, but their leader pressed forward, his massive sword gleaming.
"You're nothing but mercenary scum!" the scarred man spat.
Dikun met him without hesitation. Their blades clashed, steel ringing through the air. The force of the bandit's strike sent shockwaves up Dikun's arm, but he did not waver.
"You think fear will break me?" Dikun growled, parrying the next blow. "I've faced death and stood tall!"
He twisted, sidestepping the bandit's heavy swing. With a single, decisive motion, he drove his sword forward — the blade sinking deep into the man's chest.
The leader's eyes widened in disbelief before he collapsed. The remaining bandits faltered, their morale shattered.
"Finish them!" Dikun commanded.
And the Silver Company obeyed.
---
The Aftermath
The field was silent once more. Bandit bodies littered the ground, and the air reeked of blood and sweat.
Dikun wiped his blade clean, his chest heaving. The merchant, who had cowered behind a wagon, now emerged with trembling hands.
"They… they're gone," Gullain stammered.
"Because we were here," Dikun said firmly.
He turned to his warband. Bloodied, exhausted, but victorious — the Silver Company had faced their trial and endured.
"Gather what we can," Dikun ordered. "Weapons, supplies. Let the merchant's guards handle the dead. We move on."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the caravan continued its journey. The road to Rattay awaited.
And though the Silver Company was still small, their legend had begun.