The pale glow of dawn crept over the horizon. The mist hung low across the fields, swirling around the boots of the Silver Company as they made their final preparations. The camp bustled with hushed voices and the clinking of steel as weapons were inspected one last time.
Dikun Silver stood at the front, his gaze fixed on the treeline. Somewhere beyond it lay the bandits' lair — a den of wolves that had torn through the villages unchecked. But no longer.
"This ends today," Dikun declared, his voice steady. "We will strike before they can harm another soul."
The men nodded in grim agreement. There was no false bravado among them. Only purpose.
Elira approached, her bow slung across her back, her quiver full. "The path we scouted leads to the camp's southern edge. Guard rotations are thin, but they'll have sentries."
"Then we'll move quietly," Dikun said. "No torches. No noise."
He turned to Rudric and Saria. "Once we're in position, we strike fast. Kill the sentries. After that, we take the fight to them."
"And the villagers?" Rudric rumbled.
"They hold the village," Dikun replied. "If the bandits try to retreat, they'll find no mercy."
Saria smirked, tightening the straps on her leather armor. "They'll regret thinking us weak."
Dikun nodded. "Mount up. We ride."
---
The Approach
The company rode in silence. The dirt path twisted through the woods, branches looming like skeletal fingers. Every hoofbeat was muffled by the damp earth, and the distant calls of morning birds masked their presence.
Dikun's heart pounded steadily. There was no room for doubt. Every step had led him here — from the streets of the orphanage to the halls of Rattay. And now, the Silver Company would prove its worth.
Elira rode ahead, her keen eyes scanning the shadows. Suddenly, she raised a hand, signaling the column to halt.
"There," she whispered, pointing through the mist.
A crude wooden palisade rose from the earth, reinforced with sharpened stakes. Beyond it, the faint flicker of campfires danced. Silhouettes moved lazily — bandits, unaware of the storm about to descend upon them.
"Two sentries on the wall," Elira murmured. "And another at the east gate."
"We take them quietly," Dikun said. "Elira, with me. Rudric, lead the others around the camp. Wait for the signal."
The axeman nodded. "Aye. No bandit leaves alive."
---
Silent Blades
Dikun moved like a shadow. The damp ground muffled his steps as he crept along the base of the palisade. Elira followed close behind, her bow drawn, arrow nocked.
The first sentry leaned lazily against the wall, the glow of his pipe illuminating his unshaven face. He did not see death approach.
Dikun's dagger gleamed in the faint light. With a swift, practiced motion, he slit the man's throat. The body slumped without a sound.
Elira's arrow flew an instant later. The second sentry toppled, a thin shaft protruding from his neck.
"Clear," Dikun whispered.
They reached the east gate. The final sentry stood with his back to them, humming a drunken tune.
"Yours," Dikun gestured.
Elira's arrow struck true. The man crumpled, his song ending in a strangled gasp.
Dikun lifted his arm, signaling the others. From the shadows, Rudric and the Silver Company emerged, weapons drawn.
The gate creaked open.
"No mercy," Dikun growled. "We end them."
---
The Battle
The camp erupted into chaos.
The Silver Company descended like a vengeful storm, their swords gleaming in the dim light. The bandits, roused from sleep, scrambled for their weapons. But Dikun gave them no time.
He drove forward, his blade slicing through the first foe in a spray of crimson. Another lunged, but Dikun twisted aside, his dagger finding the man's ribs. The bandit collapsed with a gurgled cry.
Rudric's roar echoed across the camp as his axe cleaved through flesh and bone. "Come on, you bastards!"
The bandits fought like cornered animals. Some wore scraps of stolen armor, while others wielded rusted weapons. But none matched the discipline of the Silver Company.
Saria moved with deadly grace, her twin daggers flashing through the air. Beside her, Bran loosed arrow after arrow, each one striking with brutal precision.
"Hold the line!" Dikun shouted. "Drive them back!"
The bandits faltered. Some threw down their weapons, others fled toward the woods. But waiting for them were the villagers of Talmberg, their spears held firm.
A desperate bandit charged, his axe raised. Dikun met him head-on, parrying the blow. The clash of steel rang out as Dikun countered with a brutal slash across the man's chest. Blood spattered the earth.
The bandit fell.
"Victory is ours!" Rudric bellowed.
The last of the raiders fell to their knees, pleading for mercy. Dikun's chest heaved, his sword dripping crimson. He gazed across the ruined camp, the fires dying in the morning light.
---
The Aftermath
The villagers of Talmberg stood at the camp's edge, their eyes wide with disbelief. The bandits who had terrorized them were no more.
"You fought well," Dikun said, his voice steady despite the weariness in his bones. "Your homes are safe."
The villagers cheered, their gratitude echoing across the fields.
The Silver Company gathered, their faces bearing both pride and exhaustion.
Rudric clapped Dikun on the back. "We made a name for ourselves today."
Dikun nodded. "But this is only the beginning."
He knew the path ahead would not be easy. Greater foes awaited. But with every battle, the Silver Company grew stronger.
And soon, all would know the name Dikun Silver — not as a mere sellsword, but as a rising legend.