There are many sights a man could see to lift his spirits in the morning. A clear blue sky with the sun peeking just over the horizon, fresh snow blanketing an evergreen forest at the first sign of winter, a beautiful woman curled up next to him after a night of revelry and pleasure. For Helbram, even the sight of a roof over his head would have been a small, yet reassuring comfort.
The knife at his throat? Not so much.
“Don’t move,” sneered his would-be assailant; a lanky, yet stocky man wearing clothes both too big and too small for him.
Helbram had to admit, any bystander would believe that the man had the obvious advantage. He sighed and raised his hands in surrender.
“Well, you have certainly caught me unawares,” he said, resignation sounding hollow through his helmet, “but you can hardly expect to shake me down properly while I am propped up against this tree, can you?”
The bandit paused, grip still firm on the weapon lodged at the armored man’s throat. He grinned shortly after, “You’re right, better for you to take that armor off for me anyhow. Up you go, slowly.”
Helbram obeyed, keeping his hands up as the blade never left his neck. Despite his rough exterior, there was a practiced precision to the thief, something that was further enforced as he circled around Helbram and positioned the knife at a gap in his armor. One small slip and the knife would sink into his armpit.
A not so glorious, but quick way to die.
To his further displeasure, the bandit kept his other hand wrapped around Helbram’s shoulder, pressing a bit too close for comfort.
“A shame you weren’t a woman,” the bandit said, a dark hunger in his voice.
Helbram shivered, “I was already aware you were a sour sort, but you did not have to go and turn it to poison.”
“Shut it,” his assailant spat, “You’re in no position to judge me.”
“Oh I do believe I am in the perfect position to do so,” Helbram sighed, “but go on, take stock of your spoils by all means.”
The bandit paused, “What are you up to?”
“What could I be up to I wonder?” Helbram said, “Perhaps I am just a man that realizes when he has lost and would like to walk away with his life, or perhaps I am the one that has you cornered and you are blind to it.”
“Or perhaps you’re just someone who talks too much until they get gutted.”
Helbram shrugged, feeling the chill of the steel press further onto his armpit as he did so, “Also possible, but taking armor off a dead body is quite troublesome, is it not? Not to mention all the blood involved. Nasty business, that.”
“Enough of this, step forward. Let’s take a look at what a wordy man like yourself has in stock, eh?”
The bandit urged Helbram forward with his knife, to which the armored man responded with a resigned sigh and stepped towards the center of his small camp. Small embers emitted the remaining vestiges of last night’s warmth as thin, smoky wisps crawled to the sky, curling from the gentle breeze that drifted through the trees. A rucksack lay near the campfire, his sword and shield leaned against it. The bandit kicked the sword away, triggering a hidden frown behind Helbram’s visor.
“Is that not a bit much?” Helbram said, but he motioned towards his rucksack in an unceremonious fashion, “Behold, your loot.”
“Bah, a bloody ruck?”
“I am afraid so, fortune has not been so kind to me as of late.”
“I’ll say, your bed roll isn’t even undone, was our knight so tired he didn’t even have time to set that up?” He snickered, “A knight sleeping with the hedges? A hedge knight you could say.”
“Oh, you are a clever one.”
“Aye, and if you know what’s good for you you’d develop a sense of humor yourself, hedge knight.”
Helbram sighed once more, “This charade has gone on for long enough.”
Before the bandit could respond, Helbram turned his hand towards the man’s face and focused the small traces of Ether in his body to the center of his palm. A flash of pale white light surged from his hand, blinding the bandit long enough for Helbram to push him back. The thief struggled to maintain his footing as he staggered, allowing Helbram to turn around and snap his fist forward, striking the bandit in the jaw. The thief’s head whipped to the side before he collapsed to the ground, unable to respond as Helbram kicked the knife out of his hand and delivered another punch to his face. The bandit went still at the blow.
Helbram dusted his hands off and sighed, “Blasted bandits these days, always believing themselves to be so witty.”
-
Helbram had hoped that his trip to Silverglen would be one of peaceful silence. His prisoner aimed to provide the opposite.
“Please let me go good sir, I swear I’m a changed man, truly,” tears pooled in the bandits eyes as he spoke.
“That would indeed be quite the swift shift,” Helbram said through a yawn.
“Yes sir it was, the justice felt from your fist has given me perspective.”
Helbram stopped and eyed the man through his visor, “Appearing weak and harmless is a smart strategy for sympathy, but may I suggest a dash of dignity? It goes quite a ways.” He yanked the rope tied to the bandit’s wrists and urged him forward.
“Bloody… at least unbind my godsdamned feet will ya?”
“There it is.”
“What, do you expect me to hop my way back to town? My legs burn and I feel a twinge in my groin.”
“Now that is truly unfortunate. Perhaps that is something you should have considered before robbing people on the road.”
“You, I’ll have you-”
The ranting of the bandit faded into the background as Helbram nursed his neck.
“Mellisandra’s tits that hurts something fierce,” he muttered to himself.
It was an expected pain, the consequence of spending the night leaning against a tree in his armor. Normally, he wouldn’t have done such a thing, but there was no better bait for bandits than an easy score.
“What in the five hells was that back there anyway?” The bandit spat, “What are you some Mage that fancies armor over those breezy robes your lot wear?”
Helbram snorted, “Hardly,” he tugged on the rope harder, “Children could come up with such tricks given enough training. I am afraid I have no storms or fireballs to conjure for you.”
The bandit grumbled and hopped forward with a series of curses muttered under his breath.
Helbram continued down the road, taking a moment to appreciate the trees that bordered the trail. Silverglen Forest was much like any forest; thick, green, and ringing with the sounds of ambient life. Many of them were familiar, but there were a few that gave him pause. He returned his attention to the road, a wide path of packed dirt. Its twisted and curving nature suggested that it may have been an animal trail prior to man’s influence.
A gentle breeze wiped through the road, chasing away the remnants of Summer’s heat and drawing a grateful sigh from his lips. The beginnings of Fall brushed against the leaves, but there was still an uncomfortable stuffiness to the air that Helbram could feel sticking to his skin. There was an urge to remove his helmet, but as the ramblings of his prisoner grew increasingly louder the chance that some other bandit or wandering predator could make their way onto the road was growing more and more likely, and he thought otherwise.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tug on his rope. He turned around and saw the bandit laying on the ground, motionless. Helbram sighed.
“Abandoned decency, have we?”
“Decency? What kind of decency can a man have when he’s been roped up like an animal?” The bandit wiggled on the ground to emphasize his point.
Helbram paused, turning his neck and pondering off to the distance.
“See? I have a point d-”
Helbram snapped his neck the other way, producing a loud series of pops. Relief flooded through him, forcing a groan from between his teeth.
“Ohhhh, much better,” he rolled his shoulders and rotated his head once more. After he was done he pulled on the rope again. “Come now, we must not dawdle”
“Don’t speak to me like some child! Even I have some pride…”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Do you? It matters not to me,” he rolled his shoulder, “It has been quite some time since I have gotten some decent exercise… I suppose I could just drag you back to town to compensate.”
To emphasize his point he pulled on the rope once again, expending little effort to drag the bandit for a few feet.
“Alright alright,” the bandit relented, “Bloody bastard… about to wear a hole in my clothes…”
Helbram watched as the bandit struggled back to his feet, spouting a series of curses that brought a bemused smile from behind the armored man’s visor. While the thief struggled with his bound limbs, the familiar bellow of an Auroc echoed in from the distance.
From behind appeared a wagon drawn by a large, four legged beast of burden. Two horns barely peaked through its thick fur coat as it trudged forwards, placing it as female. Her hooves packed the dirt beneath it further with each step, making a steady pace towards Helbram. A portly dwarf sat at the seat of the wagon, scratching his thick, short cut beard as he urged the beast forward. The wagon itself had no wheels to carry its weight, and rather than the usual wooden construction of such a vehicle it instead held the construction of a flat metal platform with a series of deep grooves spread through its undercarriage, all feeding into crystal that sat at the very bottom. A green glow pulsed from it and through the creases, indicating the circulation of Wind Aether through the vehicle, which allowed the wagon to levitate off the ground as the Auroc pulled it forward. It was an odd amalgamation of rudimentary and Esperian magitech, but a sight that was becoming increasingly common in the Freemarks of late.
“Oh thank the gods,” the bandit exclaimed as he finally got to his feet, “transport.”
Helbram eyed his prisoner with a mix of annoyance and pity, but directed his attention to the driver of the approaching wagon.
“Ho there Joldir,” he said, holding up a hand.
The dwarf lifted his wide brimmed hat, eyes widening briefly as he caught sight of him, “Sir ‘elbram? And here I’d thought you’d moved on from our little town.”
“Not quite,” Helbram said, “had some unfinished business to take care of before I set off entirely,” he pulled on the bandit’s rope to emphasize his point.
Joldir smirked at the sight of the bound criminal, “Ah, so this is the bastard who's been robbing our good folk? Bring him closer will you?”
Helbram obliged, and bore witness to a slap across the bandit’s face. When said slap comes from the large, muscled hand of a dwarf, it proved to be enough to make even Helbram flinch.
“Ow! Bloody- I’ll have your head old man!`` The thief tried to lunge for the dwarf, but Helbram pulled on the rope once again, using enough force to drag him back to the ground.
“Enough of that,” he walked over to the struggling bandit and addressed Joldir once again, “would you be willing to provide transport back to Silverglen? As pleasant as present company is, I would rather be done with this business as soon as possible.”
“Why certainly sir, it’s the least I could do to contribute.”
“Wonderful, but please, I am no knight, just Helbram is fine,” he said, his smile hidden but evident in his voice.
Joldir chuckled, “Understood Helbram, toss the bastard in the back, you can ride up front.”
Helbram nodded and knelt down, lifting his prisoner and tossing him into the back of the wagon in one smooth motion, prompting another tangent of curses as he secured the bandit to one of the wagon’s posts, He took a seat next to Joldir and stretched his arms.
“Onwards, good man.”
-
“So, this is our bandit?”
Helbram nudged the thief forward. With his feet still bound, he stumbled into the guard captain’s desk. The bandit cut Helbram a glower.
“Eyes forward thief,” The guard captain commanded, his deep tone radiating with the gruff authority of an Orc. So much so that the bandit snapped his head forward out of instinct and righted himself up.
The guard captain eyed the bandit with a look of impassivity, which radiated intimidation from his burly features. The bandit opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it when the guard captain regarded him in silence. A twinge of envy washed over Helbram as he observed the exchange. Such presence was something that could only be possessed by one who had a familiarity with holding authority, and he hadn’t managed to replicate it just yet.
At the very least, it would have helped with the noise during the trip.
“Did you manage to retrieve what he stole?” the captain asked, his eyes fixed on the bandit.
Helbram shook his head, “Afraid not. Bringing him in was my first priority, but the thief did keep his coin purse on him,” he said, tossing a ragged bag onto the table. It landed with a heavy thud, “Judging by the weight it doesn’t look like he spent much of what he stole,” he smirked from behind his visor, “Perhaps he was saving up for something nice. A fancy suit, maybe?”
The provocation was enough to break the bandit from his controlled posture as he cut Helbram another vicious look.
He ignored the daggers glared his way, “I trust you will get the money back to the victims?”
The captain nodded, “Yes, thank you again for your help.”
“It was my pleasure,” Helbram said, “Now about my pay…”
“Ah,” the captain produced a smaller cloth bag from his desk drawer and tossed it at Helbram, who caught the purse in his palm and examined its contents.
“200 marks, as agreed,” the captain said.
The armored man counted the coins within the bags, noting the mix of silver, copper, and sparse bits of gold, “Everything appears to be in order. Do you have any other tasks that require my attention?”
The captain opened the notebook that sat neatly at the center of a well organized desk. After a moment of checking its contents he shook his head, “Not at this moment. A shame really, I could do with an excuse to keep a man like you around.”
Helbram chuckled, “Hardly, wanderers such as myself should be taken at small doses.”
“Well, if you do ever find yourself back in Silverglen do drop by will you? This town could always do with the help,” he motioned to the bandit, “Loathe as I am to admit it most of my men are still too green to handle things such as this.”
Helbram eyed the bandit once more, “Noted, I shall be sure to stop by should my travels guide me back to this quaint little town, though I suppose in time that won’t be so true anymore, will it?”
The captain sighed at that statement, but said nothing.
“But, I do believe I must be going, have yourself a pleasant day, Captain.”
“The same to you Helbram, may the gods bless you with safe travels.”
Helbram waved and left the captain and bandit behind, leaving the guardhouse and stepping into Silverglen’s town square.
In its current state, Silverglen was much like any town in the Freemarks. Small, its buildings clustered around some semblance of a town square with perhaps one or two of them reaching higher than a story tall. In some cases you’d see farmland in the outskirts, perhaps a logging station if the town was located deep within the woods. Silverglen, however, was in the fortunate position of expansion. The beginnings of new houses, new buildings dotted the relatively flat plains that surrounded the town’s origin, and much like the wagon he rode into town, some semblance of Esperian magitech and its trademark grooves could be seen within their foundations.
The town square itself was alive with midday activity, roaring with a chatter that forced his thoughts to recede as the masses went about their day. Though Silverglen was growing, it had not quite expanded out of its small town shell. There were no shops within the town, and instead the vendors hawked their wares to young and old alike. Some lined their stalls with simple produce while others did so with finely crafted clothes or other sundries. The square was quickly becoming too cramped as more people flooded in during the peak of business, and Helbram was eager to make his way out of town before it became too packed to navigate.
He shouldered his rucksack and proceeded into the crowd, making his way towards the main road. A few shoulders bumped against his on the way out, prompting small apologies to any irritated glances that were thrown his way. He had not quite inherited his father’s large build, but crowds still proved to be difficult to navigate for his size, and he resigned himself to shouldering a few others out of the way unwillingly.
As he finally emerged from the crowd, relief escaped him in the form of a sigh, followed by a shudder at the prospect of navigating the larger crowds of cities. Alas, as soon as he set his sights upon the road ahead a voice rang from the crowd behind him.
“Hear me, all, for I come to you seeking aid,” a man said, his voice loud, but unnaturally so.
As Helbram turned, he could see why. At the center of the square stood a halfling man atop a large wagon. His hair was cut short and combed over, its sheen indicated some product had been used to maintain its shape. He held one hand up to the side of his throat, a chain wrapped around his fingers akin to a piece of jewelry. Even from his distance Helbram knew it to be a magic focus, indicating that the halfling held some talent in Spellcasting. Magnifying one’s voice was hardly a complex spell, but the robes that hung from the Halfing’s gaunt frame indicated that, on first impression at least, the man was practiced in some regard.
The chatter from the crowd died down, the intrusion of this new voice enough to grab their attention if only for a moment. One that the halfling wasted no time capitalizing upon.
“I speak at the behest of my master, the renowned Tristan Bereton, owner of the Goldshire mines,” he said with a bow, “It is with much distress that I come to you, for the mine has been occupied by a band of vicious bandits.”
Gasps rang throughout the crowd.
“Now how did that happen?” a man from the crowd asked, “Goldshire is bigger than we are, how’d some band of thieves come and stink up the place?”
Mutterings spread throughout the crowd, a tide of discontent that was cut short as the halfling’s voice boomed through the square.
“Were it some common rabble I would understand your confusion, dear sir,” Helbram detected the hint of an edge to the halfling’s voice, “but this is no mere band of rudimentary thieves. They are well armed, organized, and numerous. We were caught unawares, and they struck quickly and decisively. Rather than die in the chaos we elected to retreat to retake the mines at a later date,” the halfling swept his hand over the crowd, “and that, my good people, is why I come to you for succor.”
Helbram pushed himself back into the crowd, noticing a group of men and women already surrounding the wagon. Most were adorned in fresh, riveted armor with a spear, sword, or bow at their side. Their faces were young, and they had their chests puffed out with pride as the crowd directed their attention towards them. The remaining few, he noted, were outfitted in much more weathered, robust gear, with one notable member -a stocky, grizzled man with a brown beard peppered with gray- clad in brigandine.
“My master requests the aid of any able bodied man or woman willing to take up arms, for he intends to take back the mines within the next few days. You will, of course, be handsomely rewarded for your contribution.”
Chatter once again surrounded Helbram as he made his way further into the crowd.
“Didya hear that? I could do with more marks in my pocket,” a nearby adolescent said.
“More marks? You’d be lucky to come back alive from something like that, don’t be a fool boy,” a deeper voice responded.
This sentiment appeared to be the majority opinion of the town, as no one stepped forward to the halfling’s request.
The halfling cast his eye over the crowd, the disappointment clear on his face, “Truly? None of you wish to offer your aid for such a dire situation? The very Aether crystals that this region relies upon are at stake.”
Still, no one stepped forward. Helbram could not blame them. As it was now, Silverglen was no military power and while it was still growing there were hardly any armed travelers around to offer their service.
Except one in particular.
“Ho there,” he called out, “I’ll join you.”