Slowly did the troop move. Kenan and Doco out in front with the rest in the back. Scouts and rangers separated, searching for any danger coming for a surprise. Noctis’s mind was currently spinning as fast as it possibly could, finding all and any plans of attack. From their current information, If it was true at all or not outdated. There were about 25 different bandits inside their camp. Meaning that either they quickly recruited or they called reinforcements. The former was good, and the ladder would be terrifying.

“What are you thinking Nephew?” Doco asked.

“Our battleplan.” Kenan responded.

“Well stop. To dwell on such thoughts is not good for you. Besides, I think you're merely using battleplans to cover up your real thoughts.”

Kenan glanced at his uncle, then back at the troop behind them. “It’s Jorun's tails that bother me.”

“Yeah, and what about them?”

“He claims I’m going to be this hero. I feel like if he, the rest of his family, these guys, and the village were to know what I am. They would see me as a demon and forget about the sword in its entirety. Instead point to me, and show the true monster that I am.”

Doco stayed silent. Sometimes people needed an ear then a problem solver.

“It’s not that people will distrust or hate me. I knew that when I picked up this sword. It’s that if Jorun somehow manages to spread my name around like a guardian, I would rather not be an example of others.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause.” Again Kenan looked back at the troop, noticing they were too intertwined in their own conversations to listen. “I can already tell my perception of life, of a soul, is changing. When you told me to kill as a last resort, I didn’t understand why. Now I think I do. Yet, taking life just doesn't bother me. Not back then, not now. Worse, because of what I can do, I might begin to see life and death as a tool for power. When I think like that, I wonder. How would Lucy, Geia or Herne look at me? With the same affection, or hate?”

“You speak beyond your years.” Doco said. They rode in a few moments of silence. “Do you see me treating you differently because of your powers?”

“No.”

“Good. You walk on an edge. Like your blade. Both sides lead to death. But each is different in it’s own..The first, ending with you cold. A blade slipped in your ribs or a cut throat. The other will spiritually kill you. Cracking, breaking, and killing your way to power because you can and you have lost sight of what you love. Kenan, son of Tyris would be no more. I treat you the same because I know you have enough willpower to continue to walk the fine line. Anyone who loves you will know that same fact too.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

***

“Come here. Look.” Doco said. It was about midday. They had already arrived at their destination about two miles from the bandit camp's location. Noctis and his uncle had traveled the rest of the distance to scout out the camp and gather more concrete information. Kenan crawled up to his uncle, and searched.

It wasn’t impressive in any way. There were three big tents in the middle. Then the rest were smaller tents scattered around in the area, which made it an increasingly poor perimeter.

“They don’t plan to stay long. Otherwise they would have erected a wall and actually planned better defenses. However, this place is well used. Instead of grass as the walkways it’s now mud. I would say that the head lives in the middle, one tent probably has treasure, the third I’m not entirely sure.”

Doco looked at Kenan in surprise. “That’s some damn good observation.”

***

“I say we start with a volley. Cover the sun with arrows. Or so they say..” One said.

“Nah, let Kenan do his fire ball thing, lit the whole place up.” Another said.

Currently everyone was sitting around a fire, and a poorly drawn map in mud of the bandit camp. Not all of it was accurate, but it met the requirements of their purposes. Doco was the head of the tactical plan. Kenan sat along the other guards.

“May I speak.” Kenan said.

“We tell you every day, you're a man now, speak when you want!” Said a Guard, with a collective grunt in agreement.

“Any man who wants a opening volley is not only a fool, but is outright stupid.” Kenan said. There, like the grunt, was a collective gasp.

“Explain.” Doco said. He wasn't sure how to act to Kenan's bluntness

“We have a variable. My sister. If we knew where she was at, or got her out ahead of time. That would be a different story. I don’t want any chance she gets hit in the crossfire. Also, we have no idea if there are more civilians from different farms there, my bet, there is. I say this as a warning, if there is anybody in this group who wantonly fires in the camp to try to hit someone, I will slit their throat and question them later.”

There was a moment of silence. Some of the guards were cursing themselves for their own stupidity. Some were amazed how a fourteen year old managed to be so wise. Doco was smiling profusely. It seemed the short, but intense warfare education he gave did not go to waste.

“You have an idea on how we should go about this.” Doco asked.

“Yes, I do.” Kenan got up, and went over to the poorly drawn plan. “We attack when their guard is down.”

“So tonight?” Someone asked.

“No, everyone and their mothers plan to, and for attacks when the moon is high. We take the night to rest and prepare.” Kenan responded. Whoever made that comment was red from embarrassment.

Over the next few hours, Doco, Kenan and the rest ironed out the plan. Before he fell asleep. Kenan unsheathed the black blade and meditated with it on his lap. He didn’t dive in to speak to Nattura, but simply breathed and meditated. Reaffirming both his determination and his oaths. Tomorrow, his blade will taste blood.