Ambushing the ambush.

The first light of dawn crept through the gaps in the tent, painting the fabric a soft orange. Samuel knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to change the course of the day's events. He gently extricated himself from Virrit's embrace, slipping into his clothes with practiced ease. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, her breathing deep and even. "Last night was incredible." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Her only response was a contented murmur, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Virrit grumbled before sitting up in the early light, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy. She watched him dress, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Samuel felt his cheeks flush but met her gaze, feeling a strange mix of pride and embarrassment. "I need to go," he said, his voice gruff.

"Yes, work to do today. I will find you after our victory." Virrit's voice was low and sultry, filled with the promise of more nights like the one they had just shared. Samuel nodded, his mind racing with the task ahead. He knew he had to leave before the camp woke fully. He had to get to that spot on the road where the bandits were laying their trap.

The plan was simple enough, warn the cart of the trap ahead and have the merchants stop as though they were just setting up for breakfast. The bandits would come to them then, leaving their trap and instead falling into one of the goblin's making.

Samuel had left the camp early, his armor feeling heavier than it had ever before. The scent of Virrit's lust still clung to him, a heady musk that seemed to call out to every creature of the night. He had to resist the urge to look back, to see if any of the goblins were watching him go. Instead, he focused on the task at hand.

The first light of dawn had barely broken over the horizon as he approached the winding west road from Merrit's Bend. The air was cool, the scent of damp earth and early blooming flowers lingering in the stillness. Samuel's steps were swift and sure, driven by a mix of excitement and fear that coursed through his veins. He'd always felt that the town was too small for him, but the magister Markash, and whatever forces work whispered to him were Samuel's way out. Promises of the mysterious powers of the Magisters could be his if only he could prove his worth and this was the time to do just that.

The sun had just kissed the treetops when he caught sight of the caravan, a line of wagons laden with goods snaking through the early morning mist. The merchants were a motley bunch, a blend of humans and dwarves, all with their own stories etched into their faces. They looked up as he approached, their eyes wary and their hands hovering over weapons.

"Hail travelers. Stay your weapons. I come to warn you, not rob you." Samuel approached cautiously his hands up, pleading for peace. The caravan leader, a burly dwarf named Bram, squinted at him through the dawn's murky light. His hand rested on the hilt of an axe, ready to draw at any sign of trouble.

"Aye, what danger is that, I see only you." Bram's gruff voice cut through the stillness. His skepticism was palpable, but Samuel knew he had to be convincing.

"I see you're well armed, I take it you have heard of the bandit troubles outside of Merrit's Bend then? They know you're coming. Up ahead there is a cut through the rocks, they intend to ambush you there. I don't know their numbers; but my boss's scouts are trying to lure them into a trap." Samuel spoke quickly, his voice low and urgent. "All I need is for your team to stop for breakfast. We need you to get to Merrit's Bend unharmed, we're working with Mayor Javier Castellanos."

Bram looked him over, sizing him up. "What's your name, lad?"

"Samuel," he replied, standing tall despite the tremor in his voice. "Samuel Ventari." he paused a moment before adding. "Guard Captain for the Magister Markash Roanan."

Bram's eyes narrowed, considering. "Well, Captain," he said, his grip on the axe loosening slightly. "We've got a schedule to keep, but we can spare a moment for breakfast if it'll keep us out of trouble." He called out to the rest of the caravan, and the wagons began to pull over to the side of the road.

As the travelers dismounted and began to set up a makeshift camp, Virrit and her goblin scouts were already in position, hidden among the rocks and trees. They had moved with the silent grace of predators stalking prey, their eyes fixed on the spot where the bandits would emerge. Samuel's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the horizon, knowing that the fate of this caravan and his standing with Markash rested on the success of this ruse.

The first signs of trouble came as a distant murmur, the sound of approaching hooves and rough voices. The bandits were close. Virrit gave a signal, and her scouts readied their bows. Samuel took a deep breath, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. The caravan looked peaceful, but he knew the danger lurking just out of sight.

As the band of outlaws rounded the bend, their leader, a burly man with a scar running the length of his cheek, bellowed a demand for the caravan to surrender their goods. Samuel stepped forward, his expression calm despite the racing thoughts in his head. "Good morning, friends," he called out, his voice carrying the authority of a man who knew he was in charge. "What brings you out so early?"

"Hail" Samuel walked to the middle of the road, putting himself between the caravan and the bandits. "I suggest you gentlemen just turn back. This caravan is under protection."

The bandit leader's sneer grew. "Protection from the likes of you?" He spat. "Where is your army?"

"Last warning. This caravan is under the protection of a magi of the Peerage." Samuel's voice was steady despite the pounding in his chest. The bandit leader's sneer morphed into a snarl, but he held his ground. Behind him, the caravan crew had gone tense, eyes flicking from Samuel to the band of thugs. Seeing that this was going nowhere Samuel hung his arms on his spear across his back. The signal for Virrit.

The bandit's leader spat out a laugh, "A magi? I've never seen a spear-toting magi before." He gestured to his men, "Kill him and take the goods."

Before the words left his mouth, the air was pierced by the twang of bowstrings and the hiss of arrows slicing through the air. Virrit's goblins had emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent as they rained **** upon the bandits. The bandits' horses reared in panic, throwing their riders to the ground, and chaos erupted as the archers in the trees picked off their targets with lethal precision. The sound of metal on metal clashed as the bandits drew their weapons, but they were already falling, one by one, to the relentless barrage from the hidden goblins.

Samuel stepped into the fray, his spear a blur of motion. The goblin's plan had been to use him as bait, but he had no intention of being a mere decoy. His training as a town guard served him well, and he dispatched the first few attackers with swift, precise jabs and swipes. The bandit's numbers dwindled quickly, but not fast enough. One managed to get past the goblin archers and lunged at him, a vicious grin on his face. Samuel's instincts took over, and he blocked the blow with his spear, feeling the vibration of the impact resonate up his arm.

The bandit was bigger, stronger, but Samuel had the advantage of speed and discipline. He danced around the larger man, his spear a silver serpent weaving in and out of the enemy's clumsy strikes. But even the most graceful dance had its missteps, and a glancing blow from a sword opened a gash in Samuel's arm. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, his blood mixing with the sweat that coated his skin. Another bandit fell, but not before sinking a spear into Samuel's side, the pain searing through his body. He stumbled, dropping to one knee, his vision swimming with red. He crawled away from the melee, watching the bandits leaving their dead and fleeing back into the wilderness. A trees roots had grown to the side of the road an in the shelter of it's boughs he waited out the battle, his consciousness fading, until a voice called out to him.

"My stupid human boy... No no no, you don't get to die now." Virrit's voice cut through the din of the morning battle. She was by his side in an instant, her nimble fingers working to stem the flow of blood from his wounds. The battle had turned into a rout, with the bandits retreating in disarray, their numbers decimated by the goblin archers and Samuel's unyielding defense. Despite her teasing tone, Samuel could hear the concern in her voice. She had seen enough battles to know that his injuries were severe.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle as she tore strips of fabric from her own clothing to bind his wounds. "You should have let us handle this," she chided, her eyes narrowing as she worked. "But no, you had to be the hero, not just bait. Now look at you. Fool boy."

Samuel's vision swam, and he felt the world tilt around him. The pain was a living thing, writhing and pulsing with every beat of his heart. Virrit's face was a blur as she leaned over him, her voice sharp and commanding. "Hold on," she barked, her goblin accent thick. "You're not dying on me." A surge of pain flowed through the spear wound and Samuel grit his teeth, but it was too much. His head fell back into Virrit's lap as his consciousness faded.