“Find us at Veran,” one of the last men told him before they had dispersed. Two had told him to go there now. It was clear he had no choice. He had hope he could get through to their leaders as much as he could to their men.

As he walked out of the castle he saw horrors beyond measure. The ground was covered in men’s blood and lit by the colors of dusk. Guards and peasants alike laid on the ground. Some men dragged or carried the armorless bodies away. Even more looked in horror, or had already left. Cravens and beggars alike flooded past the broken and open gates, huddling around the guard’s corpses and picking them for all their worth.

The smell made him want to puke, but instead he shouted, “they deserve proper burial! Do not touch their bodies,” he headed to the remains of the guards, holding a hand over Comet’s hilt. Quickly the men around them scampered away, yet what was left was barely recognizable. Plate and chain were both ripped off slowly decaying pale flesh. Each of their weapons had been taken, but their hands still showed the blood of fighting.

Kard didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t bury them all here. Nor carry them with him. The Lightwatcher turned, looking at the men burying the bodies of their fellows, or friends perhaps. Seeing their faces twist with grief and sorrow, he felt guilty, but spoke to them nonetheless.

“Every man who died here made a great sacrifice. Bury them as well. It will show you to be far more honorable than those who commanded them to die,” at first nothing happened. Not a single person moved. Those who were still standing in shock looked to Kard for unending seconds, then two came for the first body, and the rest followed suit.

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‘Why do they listen to me,’ he wondered, wandering through the streets of the eastern capital to find the tavern. It was backstreet after backstreet, but many folk walked there despite the late midnight hour. Some went about their normal business, going inside half open shops or the numerous other taverns around. More lingered in a way that almost looked intentional, as if waiting for a signal to act.

A handwritten wooden sign that's clearly aged hung off a roof at the end of an alleyway. Its words were barely recognizable, yet Kard could read them. As he had been looking for the old tongue for some time. It must have looked to common folk like runes, most did not know how to read, much less the old tongue. Or so he was taught. Yet in the worst part of the eastern capital hung a sign reminding him that change might come.

The smell was of damp moss, but the noise was clear as he stepped inside. Laughing and plotting in equal measure. And many men of those there were the same ones who had helped him through the gates of the castle only hours before. It was too full for all to sit, despite the abundance of wooden tables stuffed into the small room. In the corner, among the men standing and laughing with cups of ale was another familiar face.

"Hello bard," Kard spoke to him once he managed to get past the mass of people, "it seems I have found my way to this place after all," the man was strumming a lute in beat with the singing of the men, though he didn't speak much.

"Ah, so it seems! I have heard from your fellows of the exploits at the governor's castle earlier. Mayhap I ought to congratulate you for leading such a successful rebellion," he laughed. Though it sounded bitter.

"I did not lead anything of the sort, I simply did my best to prevent those deaths I could," Kard sighed in guilt, "unsuccessfully, I might add."

"Well, that is not the story I have heard. Just wait and see," he put down his lute next to him and raised a cup of his own, "to Kard Lighwatcher and his bravery!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the loudness of the tavern.

"Here here!" a cry returned from three quarters of the men there.

"Now you see, I bet half of them at least would follow you to hell itself," the bard spoke to Kard.

"I don't wish them to, I'm here to tell them to lay down their arms. Enough blood has already been shed."

"And wait for the king to bring an army to execute them all once more? No, this place has seen enough peasant blood too," the bard said, his tone slowly shifting.

"Who are you exactly?" Kard knew there was more to this man than meets the eye, but this was more.

"Let's just say I'm here by order of our leader. He wanted me to convince you to join us ever since he heard rumors of you leaving the king after the unfortunate incident near the capital. There were a few men from around here who became bandits and pillagers when their families were killed. And I heard you ran into them.”

“Well, maybe you are not that different, storming the castle while women and children were there,” Kard said angrily.

“None of us ever intended to harm anyone. You want us to prove it to you, I’m sure. Then come with us, I and many others have decided to head west as you have said. We must help protect those people in roads and villages who need suffer from the banditry and disorder in this kingdom,” the man’s voice was soft. But Kard could not find him insincere, despite his great desire.

A year ago he would have said the lot of them deserved the king’s sword, yet now he was not so sure. Mayhap they could do some good.

“If you wish to follow me west as I return to Comet’s Landing I will not stop you,” he spoke to the bard. And he in turn spoke to a few men nearby. Only a handful of minutes passed as one man tapped on the back of his fellow and half at least rose.

“I will join you!” each said, one after the other.

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“We march at dawn,” Kard responded with a sigh.

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They were about a hundred men, a group far bigger than these roads had clearly seen in a long time. Purposefully Kard picked a path of smaller roads, where robbers and bandits were more common. Hoping they could do some good even before reaching Comet’s Landing. Every evening they would stop to camp, half having to forage and hunt and the other half Kard decided to train. Clearly someone competent had done so before. As each knew basic self defense as well as how to use common weapons and tools.

Only a week into the journey they had grown twice the size. Every tavern and village that passed saw new recruits. Because of him or this organization he was now involving himself with, Kard wasn’t sure. Regardless, he was worried, if they took much longer to find bandits the whole group might dissolve into the countryside. Whispers grew with every day, eager hearts turned to occasional fights over food and sleeping spots. Their patience was running thin, as with any soldiers he had seen before.

Luckily a couple of days later they found the wreck of a horse and cart. One of the horses still lived, though he was injured. Unfortunately, it was fresh, two corpses still remained in decent condition. Tracks led off into the forest, and immediately Kard gathered a small group and followed it further inside. He instructed the others to spread out as best they can to try to find any other remains left by whoever did this.

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Deep in the woods they saw smoke. First a few wisps over the trees then, as they neared with what quietness they could manage, pillars. Noise just like he had heard in the tavern was barely spotted. Drinking and singing, but also something more. They were speaking a language he did not recognize. And none of his men did either, even the bard.

‘If it’s not the eastern dialect, what is it?’ he thought to himself in concern. Soon he saw the men’s clothing, it was clearly foreign. Furs and wool were far more dominant than the mostly linen and leather of the men around him. They did not wear scraps of armor, as many bandits tended to. And next to each lay an axe or a bow instead of the usual spear.

Kard could spot around ten, though there might have been more, hidden from view by the hundred meters of trees separating them. He sent two men back, to bring together the rest, though he doubted it was necessary.

Approaching on his own and making sure that they would not be discovered, he cleaned the ground carefully of every branch and thorn. Even a single misstep would bring attention to the ambush he was preparing.

Step by step they were nearing the men, who still seemed entirely distracted. Yet Kard spotted something as he got closer, just a couple of the axes had disappeared. And before he had time to think further he jumped to action.

The sound of steel against steel was the first familiar sound. Some of the men in the camp were surprised but more rose quickly. Kard’s men swarmed from behind the trees all around the bandits.

His hand pushed Comet furiously against the man’s axe, as the sound of combat intensified around him. Knives and spears stabbed into flesh in seconds. Men from both sides fell as Kard struck left, using both hands to get past the man’s guard. Comet hit wood as the man pulled a shield from his back. Red and black against his blue and yellow.

Left, right, right, left. Blocking every swipe of the axe with ease and returning the favor without hesitation. It was just as if he dueled with Edward again, though his opponent’s skill was nothing like. The only sound he heard was the heavy breathing of the man before him. Kard would last longer than he did.

Step back, then forward with a stab, and to the right to dodge a bash. Twisting his body like his own personal marionette. Despite his lack of stamina, the man had formidable defenses, and only when Kard managed to reach his side did a strike finally land.

A slash against the calf felled him, and his axe and shield were easily taken. Yet he tried to bring Kard to ground with him. Jumping out of his range, the Lightwatcher finally took a look around, only to barely dodge a sword strike to his head. Men fought behind and ahead, and the sounds of metal rang with glee.

Comet’s pommel hit a hand that extended too far, and one more man was down. Maybe half of them lay injured or dead. Soon enough though, a group of his men started sweeping through the field. More had arrived, and some had defeated those opposing them.

Shriek, an arrow passed by Kard’s hair. He looked to find the source, but he could barely see among the trees. Then he heard the stretching of wood and he jumped to the ground. An arrow thunked its way into the dirt.

“They’re in the trees!” he shouted, his instincts taking over. Yet no one was available to respond. The fire of arrows continued, hitting several of the men around him, “take cover,” he commanded the rest with bluntly. His legs hit the ground as hard as he could to launch himself towards trees behind the central battle. Staying low to the ground all the while.

Half a dozen small skirmishes stood between him and a glint he spotted among the darkness. He didn’t have time to take them all down, but charging through would be just as dangerous. Flanking through the woods would leave him vulnerable. Calculating his moves carefully despite the hectic battlefield, Kard held Comet with an iron grip.

He swung it at a man’s head on his left without hesitation. It found purchase in the man’s neck easily. Kard pulled it out with a sickening sound. Four men fought in front of him. Three spears trying to get past a banded shield. As they saw him, each trying to identify him as friend or foe, he stumbled past them and landed himself in another skirmish. Before he knew it he felt a blade slash him and blood coming from his head. Yet he kept moving, charging through two more fights, and finding himself between the trees.

Shriek, he heard again, but this time it found its place in his side. Grunting with pain and blood rushing into his eyes Kard’s eyes darted to find the archers. There were four of them, each hiding behind a tree, and only one had seen the knight. Before he could react further he jumped onto the archer and stabbed Comet directly through the man’s stomach. His hands were bloody and full of dirt, scrapes and bruises all over them.

The next three reacted just as fast, and he barely managed to avoid their arrows. Each pulling a small knife out of their fur coats. One was close enough to Kard for him to fight, but the other two were still out of the reach of his blade. A strike to the center of the first hit his knife, but it was not enough to block Comet’s sheer heft, and it slashed him in the guts. Dirt mixing with the spilling blood as the bandit fell.

Both remaining archers approached him together, circling him out of range of his sword. One trying to flank him and the other staying near his front. Not one moment after the archer had reached his back they charged. Despite using the back edge of Comet to hit the first archer, Kard knew he would not reach the other archer before he could reach him.

Kard closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, preparing for a pain he did not know. Though as he counted the time in his head, nothing happened. Everything around him quietened, and a friendly voice appeared.

“Good thing I got here, though you seem to have taken care of them quite well,” the Bard said, the last archer laying at his feet.