Duty begins

Kael heads to one of the city gates, where he arranged to meet with the patrol he will be joining. He finds them gathered, along with the captain he spoke with earlier. It appears to be about twenty men and women, all arrayed with broadswords and shields, and wearing studded leather armor. The captain approaches with a nod.

“Good to see you, champion Kael.”

Kael extends an armored hand, and they clasp forearms with a clatter of metal. “Likewise, captain…?”

The man nods, releasing Kael’s arm. “Captain Branthan. I have to admit, I’m glad you’re here. I’d say it greatly improves our odds.”

Kael shrugs. “I will aid you to the best of my abilities, Captain Branthan, but your men must do their part.”

The captain looks over at his soldiers, who are waiting beside the gate. “Of course. We do our duty, just as you do yours.”

Kael nods, with a small smile. “That’s all we can do, captain. Shall we begin?”

The captain chuckles, turning to his men. “All right, you lot. You know what we’re doing here. Let’s not make fools of ourselves in front of a champion, yeah? Move out.”

The group heads out, with Kael and Captain Branthan taking the lead. Kael can feel their eyes on him, and hear their whispers. Most of them are young, and regard him with awe. His weapon in particular gets a lot of looks. Most of them know if it, but it’s likely that none have seen it wielded.

They’ll see it today, no doubt.

Soon after leaving the city, they head off the main road and into the forest. There’s a pervasive gloom beneath the trees, despite the sunlight filtering through the leaves. There’s the typical buzz of nature all around, but the group moves quietly, with only the occasional clink of weapons and armor as they continue.

Captain Branthan speaks to Kael quietly. “It’s not far to their camp. With any luck, we’ll catch them napping, and this’ll be easy. Bandits don’t often operate at midday.”

Kael nods. “That would be ideal. Hope for the best, but expect the worst.”

Almost as soon as he finishes speaking, there’s a hiss thump, followed by a cry of pain, as an arrow strikes one of the guardsmen. Several more flash past, narrowly missing. To Branthan’s credit, he reacts quickly and decisively.

“Circle up, shields up! Now!”

Kael raises his shield as well, as several ragged men in filthy leather armor emerge from the woods. And then more. All told, maybe forty or fifty, armed with bows and swords, step out, forming a ragged battle line. None of them look particularly impressive, despite their numbers. But the last to emerge is something else entirely.

Tall and thin, the man is pale as the midnight moon, with long, greasy black hair that hangs down past his shoulders. He wears a mail shirt with a dark, leathery cloak of some kind of hide. A pair of swords are crossed in his back, and he carries a heavy bow with an arrow nocked. He looks at the band of guardsmen with disdain, and sneers, revealing yellowed, rotten teeth.

Captain Branthan points his sword at the obvious bandit leader. “By the order of Lord Greyheart, lay down your arms and surrender!”

The leader seems to consider for a moment, before lifting the bow and firing an arrow in a flash. Branthan’s head snaps back as an arrow sprouts from his eye, and he drops to the ground in an instant. Lowering the bow, the man laughs cruelly.

“That means no.”

Kael takes a step forward, and the leader eyes him. “Hmm. Lord’s champion. Kael, right? Heard of you.”

He spits on the ground. “Go on, ask us to surrender.”

Kael shakes his head, drawing his long, oddly shaped blade. “No.”

The leader chuckles. “Good. Kill them.”