His every breath tasted of fresh blood as he sprinted up the long, winding path leading up to through the narrow pass. On either side of the dirt road, boulders had rained down from the gray mountains for millennia to form tall, impassible barriers - a funnel for weary travelers just like him to fall directly into the line of fire of the three men hiding behind the tall, moss-grown stones ahead.

Fingers rested on triggers as scopes studied the young man in his fine, dirtied, oversized black suit. Golden chains and bejeweled decorations clicked and chimed around his waist and wrists and, judging by the young man’s purple rosette, it was clear that he was no ordinary citizen of Cradle. This boy… was a nobleman; a prize far more valuable as a sum, rather than the individual pieces of his jewelry.

Without a word spoken between them, the hardened highwaymen came to a unison conclusion that the press of a trigger would be expensive - far more expensive than housing the hapless twat for however long it’d take to have his family pay the ransom. Marley rose out from the rocks to hail the stranger with his rifle at his side.

The young nobleman came to a freezing halt as he saw the man in his dirty, gray overalls and the scoped rifle resting from the strap at his shoulder. “Whoah there, son, where you headin’? You look like you’ve got Logos on your heels or summin’.” Marley’s wide grin glinted with reflexes to rival his bald, smooth scalp.

The young man seemed to be in his late teens - not a handsome feller, by any means. For one, his black hair was ruffled and cut at uneven lengths. Secondly, his eyebrows had likely been recently shaved as there was obviously something oddly about them - a fashion statement common to the youth of the Citadel, no doubt.

Marley’s eyes rested on the large nose as the young man fell to his knees and raised his folded hands towards the assailant in a plea: “Thank the Makers - please, Sir! M-My caravan’s been assaulted by the Monstrum! I’ve been running all day, they’re still out there! P-please help me! We’ve gotta go get m-my supplies! I’ll pay you!”

Marley extended an arm and crouched down to wrap it around the young man’s neck. “Breathe easy, son. You look like you’ve been running all day. C’mon, take a breather and tell me what happened.” He reached for the flat, battered flask at his hip, unscrewed the cork and extended it towards the young noble. Without a second’s hesitation, the nobleman grabbed the flask and held it up high, filling his mouth with the infernal, burning liquors. The shock of the purity of the product nearly made him spit it out, but such was his thirst and horror that he swallowed it down and stuttered: “T-Thank y-you… W-We were returning to the Citadel. We’ve been vacationing i-in Anza f-for the spring blossoms. W-we’ve just sold some of our estates a-and we’re moving our stuff b-back home… that caravan’s loaded with gold and furniture - I-I can’t let it stay out there…” Typical Nobles - greedy as they get.

“They came from nowhere. It was horrible, they tore the guards and my uncle to bits. I only got away because they were too busy…” The young man squeezed his eyes shut and frowned through gritted teeth.

Marley had to resist chuckling at the aristocrat. Despite the death of his family - despite the death of the guards, he still wanted to return for the material riches. Naturally, Marley’d be happy to help, but he doubted the boy would be too happy with his rates… then again, he would have little choice in the matter.

“You poor thing. Well, as much as I’d like to set out right away, we’re gonna have to be careful about it. And we’ll need more men. How about you come back with us? We’ll get you a nice tent to sleep in, some food and some drink while we go deal with the monsters, how’s that sound to you?” The young man looked up at his mysterious savior through tall minisci of tears and whimpered a silent: “T-thank you… I’d like that.”

They wandered through the valley and into the flats beyond - to a corner of the world long-forgotten by the denizens of Cradle. There, in the depression between the tall, snowy peaks, a tall column of smoke rose from beyond a wall of sharpened spears - a ramshackled barrier that had shielded what had been, until recently, a peaceful farming community.

The traces of the agriculture and the once-bustling oil-production were still visible in the overgrown grass atop the fertile soil. Rapsflowers surrounded the tall, dilapidated windmill-presses that had produced much of the region’s oil until the reclamation had caused an influx of produce into the market.

The nobleman knew this - he’d been well schooled in the area and therefore, he was not particularly surprised as they stopped by the wooden-stake fence barring the dirt road. Marley lay a heavy hand atop his shoulder and with a mischievous grin of missing teeth spoke: “Aight, now, we’re gonna have to make sure you ain’t gonna hurt our folk. To us, you’re just a stranger, after all and we might get itchy trigger fingers if you’re just left to roam around… so, we’re gonna tie you up. How’s that sound?”

The noble remained still for a bit, blinking at the man with apparent disbelief before eventually nodding. “W-well… if that’s the safest, sure… I wouldn’t want to… scare anyone.” His eyes darted between the trio of grinning, frightening men and their hunting-rifles.

‘Typical Citadelians - dumb, greedy and sheepish’ Marley thought as he led the boy onwards through the opened gate. The village was in a state of disrepair, with an overgrown dirt road and houses that hadn’t tasted paint nor care for at least a couple of generations. In between the gray walls, the scant, few hungry citizens beheld their recent captive as Marley led him onwards to the houses near the back wall.

Once inside the dilapidated building of boarded-up, glassless windows, the nobleman turned in the doorway as he caught sight of another pair of bound-up and gagged people of finer, torn clothing. One was a woman approximately his age - the other, likely her father… worst case, her husband. They were clad in matching leather pants and torn white shirts, but they had the same golden coloration to their hair.

Both were bound up against the rafters, hanging limply only to perk up as they saw their freshest co-captive. As expected, they quickly began to writhe and protest, screaming into the gags as they became aware of the freshest fool to enter into the fly trap. The Highwaymen moved in unison, grabbing the nobleman by his arms to lead him between them before raising his arms up to tie him to the rafter, where he would join the others in hanging by his wrists.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“H-hey, what are you doing!? Do you know who I am!? I am Abraham Jornson - you can’t do this!”

Marley and his rugged men chuckled as they tied the writhing weakling up. This one had almost been too easy - far less of a fight than the other two, certainly.

“Thanks for the introduction, boyo. We’ll be sure to pass your credentials on to the messenger, but we’ve got all the time in the world to talk when you lead us back to that caravan - you can tell me all about who Abraham Jornson is.” Marley chuckled as he tore a strip from the woman’s shirt to gag the young man with - tying it tightly at the back of his head, before turning towards the two inbred cronies.

“Go gather up some of the fellas and check the ammo. If we’re gonna be fightin’ Spawn, I ain’t going in without at least a crate. We’re going first thing in the morning - c’mon, git!” The two men both chuckled and threw a glance towards the hanging woman’s now mostly naked chest, save from the white undergarments. Abraham made a show of kicking and screaming as Marley turned around for the door and closed it on the trio.

After he was sufficiently satisfied they were finally alone and that Marley and his men had moved out of ear-shot, the young nobleman turned towards his companions in turn, nodding a silent greeting. He knew it was wrong… he knew it a bad thing, both against his betrothed at home and to the girl herself, but he found himself stealing glances at her torn-open shirt at the soft, supple-looking skin beneath the cloth.

“Mmph!” She shouted into her gag, directing his attention back to the low, aggressive brow up above. He felt the beads of sweat building atop his forehead. He’d apologize, but couldn’t exactly voice a ‘I’m sorry’ with the cloth in his mouth. With her cloth in his mouth.

Turning around to her father or husband, he saw that he was about as bemused by his stolen glances as she was.

“This is gonna be a long day…” He thought to himself and took a steadying breath to steel himself for hanging to dry.

When the sun finally sunk on the windows and the dim, red light outside had turned to a pitch-black impenetrable umbral cloak, he perked up to begin his work. He had practiced the maneuvers a hundred times over, but never under such stakes - never under the threat of his life.

He cleared his mind and thought back to sitting in a mire with a catfish in his lap, facing his beloved blonde. “Cuttin’s all about rippin’ stuff apart. Like a knife, right? You just gotta widen the distance between stuff - the smallest stuff you can think of.” With the fingers tied above the rafters, he clamped down on the ropes and closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the thousands of threads spun into the sturdy binding.

He did as she’d told him: “Use one finger to pull the stuff one way and the other to pull it the opposite way.” He was glad he’d adjusted to her way of talking - he’d understood her perfectly well, despite the lackluster explanation. He gathered up his concentration to move the particles constituting the rope and began to pull, straining the fibers until finally, they began to snap one-by-one.

After about an hour of intense concentration, the beads of sweat had thoroughly stained his white shirt, but he finally dropped to the ground with a painful thump. His shoulders still remained located, but an hour more and he imagined he’d have been in some trouble.

He rose up and untied the gag from his mouth before racing over to the woman, pausing by her wide-eyed, desperate glare to question: “What would he do?”

Sure, it would be the heroic thing to let her go, but he hadn’t a clue who these people were. For all he knew, they were bumbling idiots just as likely to get him killed by loudly stomping around out there, which would severely harm his own plans.

“Fuck… I’m sorry - listen, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna go get something, all right?” He grinned his widest smile, though it did little to appease the woman who immediately began kicking and screaming for him.

He jerked back with a grimace of shame before raising his hands to plead: “P-Please, just hang tight - I’ll be right back, ‘kay?” Her scream spoke all he needed hear - he wouldn’t be getting a kiss on his cheek from this one either.

Abraham turned for the door and crouched down low before opening the creaking barrier. The outside was dark, save from a few torches being carried in between the buildings to his left. The dark suit let him hide in the cover of darkness as he veered off to the right and headed back towards the gate - thrilled to see that there were no guards watching over the ramshackled gate.

Cautiously, he stepped into the dim light of the gateside lantern, unhooked the latch keeping what was essentially bounded-together bundles of spears and slowly opened the gate before darting back into the darkness - making his return for his prison.

“Ey, ey, ey - what’re you doing!?” A familiar voice spoke from behind. He froze and slowly turned to see that the dim luminance of lanternlight on the ground grew brighter as Marley approached - pistol in hand.

“How the fuck did you get out - hey! Stand still! I told you we’d get itchy trigger fingers if-” He set the lantern down and raised his rifle to take aim at the young man. Abraham yelped and readied himself for conjuring a shield.

“Now, now, there’s no reason to get upset. You did string him up first, right?” A calm, bemused voice spoke from out in the darkness.

Marley spun around to aim the rifle in the direction of the voice and shouted: “Who the fuck- hello!?”

There, barely visible to any beholder, a tall dark outline appeared around a white porcelain mask - a mask glaring a set of vicious, bestial teeth at the hapless highwayman.

“F-Fuck, G-Ghast! Me-” Before he could finish raising his gun to fire at the dark figure, a curious transformation took place. If Abraham hadn’t seen it before, he’d have thought it some form of magic. It was as if the contents of Marley’s cranium had suddenly become too large for his skull, bursting bits of gore from the top of his scalp and blowing out the man’s eyes.

When the sound of the distant rifle’s discharge blew over the encampment, Marley had already landed a few feet back - knocked over by the massive-caliber bullet that had torn through his brain.

“Good job, Abraham. We’ll deal with the rest - why don’t you go help your friends back there?” The Ghast asked with a hint of bemusement on his voice, as if he hadn’t just watched a man’s head explode. It was one of those things Abe struggled to imagine he’d ever get used to, but this wasn’t the time to bite back the nausea of the sweetly scent of death filling the cool, nightly air.

Abraham’s head jerked in a nod. “Y-Yes, Sir…”

The young man fluffed his suit jacket, ruffled his hair and cleared his throat into his hand as he wandered back - seemingly ignoring the many explosions of rifle-fire, pistols and dying screams of men further inside the facility. ‘I’m here to save you, ma’am’... ‘Oh no, I’m not a hero - just a dark wanderer seeking justice’... He thought about what to say as he swung the door open to the wide-eyed pair eyeing him with disdain, surprise and terror.

“D-D-Don’t w-worry, I’m h-here t-to be a w-wandering hero… I mean, I’m here to s-save…” He sighed, closed the door behind him and stepped behind the woman to unbind her gag.

“What the fuck are you doing!? What’s going on!? Don’t touch me, you freak!” Her mouth continued to blurt out obscenities as he begrudgingly untied her bindings, dropping her to the floor of the dilapidated house.

“Y-You creepy bastard!”