“Father,” Morla began, putting fingers over her lips, “Why must we go this way?”

She was growing more and more nauseous the longer this trip went on. It was supposed to be a ‘shortcut’ but this felt far longer than the usual path. This wagon wasn’t meant for off-road trails, it was constructed for smoothed stone and cobbles! Each bump threatened to pull her breakfast from her guts, and if that happened she’d never hear the end of it from her father. Had the directions that had been given to them been false? Her father, a portly man with a long graying mustache, shrugged his shoulders, his fine linens and colorful silks shifting with his bulk. Morga looked every part the stereotypical rich merchant, from his large gut, fine clothes, bejeweled fingers, and the tiny feathered cap on his head.

“It was supposed to be faster,” He replied in a deep, gently booming voice, “Jareed had told me that the new guide knew the best paths through the Yellow-Leaf.” A bejeweled hand scratched at one of his many chins, “This could be the first time that he has ever been wrong…”

Morla scowled as she thought of that snake, Jareed. He was a manipulative mooch in Morla’s opinion, only just useful enough for father to justify keeping him around. All that bastard wanted was to dress in fine silks and carouse like a man half his age, she couldn’t fathom why father paid him as much as he did. The guards riding beside the wagon deserved twice the pay that Jareed got, they were actually risking their lives to protect them!

As soon as father let her take over the business, the first thing she’d do was to get rid of Jareed. Hopefully that day would be coming soon, her father wasn’t getting any younger and it was clear that he was growing weary of the merchant's life. Maybe he’d even give control over to her after this trip to Relias, he had never asked her to come with him before. She’d gone with him everywhere else to trade since she’d been born, yet he’d held off on taking her to Relias… but why?

“Father,” She began, giving her stomach a moment to settle, “For twenty-three winters you’ve not taken me to Relias once.” She said with emphasis, “Why now?”

Her fathers normally cheerful green eyes, the mirror of her own, suddenly became serious, narrowing as he leaned toward her, “Because that is where the most profitable, and dangerous, trading can be done.” He said intensely, his voice almost a whisper. “The markets there are cutthroat and dangerous for an inexperienced merchant, if one of my rivals had gotten wind that you were present… it would be likely they’d hire someone to take you from me, either for blackmail or ransom. It is a wicked city my dear, but I must take you with me now… I was going to wait to tell you this until we returned home, but my impatience curse me, I cannot wait any longer.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “I am retiring from the merchant's life, I tire of it. I wish to pass the company down to you. Morla, you’ve got a good business sense and I believe that you remember all that I’ve taught you over the years… and frankly I wouldn’t trust Delilah or Morgan with running it.”

“That’s because Delilah is too busy chasing men and Morgan is a fop.” Morla said with a nod, smiling, “Thank you father… I,” She hesitated, “I won’t let you down.”

Ah damn, she could feel her eyes beginning to moisten. Hearing that father trusted her this much was just…

“Chin up, Morla, don’t be a pansy.” He told her with a chuckle, “This business doesn’t tolerate tears, do the crying in private. You have to keep your fears under control-”

“I’m not scared, you fat oaf, I’m happy!” She shouted angrily.

Father’s green eyes widened as he sat back, aghast, “Fat?” He asked, pinching his belly, “Well, I thought I was looking quite slim myself, wouldn’t you agree?”

Silence passed for a solid three seconds before he began laughing, his generous cheeks jiggling like he was a happy bulldog. Morla’s lips quivered for an instant as she tried to retain the heat of her anger, but it was simply impossible. The both of them laughed together for a solid minute before it died back down into silence, her father’s eyes staring into hers.

“You’ll do well sweetheart, there isn’t a soft bone in your body.” He told her, leaning forward to give her a pat on the head, “Just remember, don’t ever let yourself be disrespected by your business rivals, don’t be scared to take risks, and never settle for less than perfection in all things. You must give one-hundred percent effort in everything you do.”

Morla pulled her head out from beneath his hand with a grin. Honestly, she wasn’t a child anymore! “Worry not father, I’m not going into this business with a mind to be mediocre. I won’t settle for second-best, I’ll be the top merchant in Faenor, I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will sweetheart-”

Something then thunked right beside her, cutting Morga off as they both looked to see the source of the disturbance. A small, sharp piece of metal stuck through the thin wood, the tip of what appeared to be a… oh no! By the Overseer, that was a crossbow bolt! A cold terror then began welling in her chest as the wagon screeched to a halt, the guards screaming before the clashing of swords could be heard. She tried to stand, but her father’s hand forced her back down to her seat, he stared at her meaningfully as the fighting continued, clearly trying to indicate that she should stay put.

She nodded as tears began to well in her eyes. Morga then reached down to his belt, pulling a curved knife free of its sheath. She almost goggled in shock that her father would be willing to fight, with his build he hardly looked the sort to be… well, brave. He noticed her gaze and Morga gave a small smile.

“You don’t survive this business long if you aren’t willing to defend yourself Morla, hopefully it won’t come to that… but if it does, run.” He told her, “If these vagabonds defeat our guards, let me leave the wagon first, and when that happens, you run as fast as your legs can take you. Get into the forest, and try to find your way back home.”

“But-” She stammered, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “But what will happen to you?”

Morga just shrugged, “They’ll probably try to ransom me, I’ll be back in a week or two, don’t fret.” He said, sounding almost laid back, “Wouldn’t be the first time, but I’ll be damned if I let them get their disgusting paws on you… bandits aren’t typically gentle with women.”

Morga was not helping to ease her fears, but maybe that was on purpose. Terror could make one run incredibly fast, and right then she felt as if she could outrun a pack of wolves. A few seconds passed of struggling voices and clashing steel before all fell silent outside. Morga’s bald head hung in defeat, and he flipped the dagger around, handing it to her hilt-first.

“Had our men won, they would have shouted their victory by now.” He said, urging her to take the weapon.

With a shaky hand, she grasped the dagger, and he closed her fingers tightly around its hilt, “I love you, sweetheart. Now remember, run fast, and I’ll see you in a week or two.”

“But father-”

“No arguments girl, go out there, and be the best.” He finished with finality, standing from his seat and opening the wagon’s door.

She stood behind him, as he had instructed, and as soon as he stepped out into the open, she bolted. It was hard to do with her long silk dress, but she managed to get her feet under her. Before she could circle around the wagon to dart off in the opposite direction, she caught a glimpse of the vagabonds who assailed them. A dozen rough-looking men stood around the wagon in a semi-circle, blood dripping from swords and axes as the corpses of the guards and other strangers lay about, blood pooling into the Autumn leaves surrounding them. Among them, a familiar face stood out, with long black greasy hair, dark hair and a deep tan, there was no doubt who it was.

Jareed, he had betrayed her father.

“Jareed…” She heard Morga say as she darted away into the forest, “I’m going to kick your ass.”

A meaty thwack was heard immediately after those words left Morga’s mouth. Had he been struck with a bolt, or a sling? Remembering her father’s words, she didn’t look back, her lips qauvering as she dashed into the woods, cold terror fueling her. She knew that any lapse in speed would surely lead to capture. Morla wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to outrun any of them if they decided to give chase, this dress and these accursed heels weren’t exactly optimal for speed.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Catch the brat.” She heard Jareed order casually. “She’ll sell well I think.”

She clutched the dagger tighter in her hands at the vile command, hearing footsteps quickly approaching through the crunching leaves. Was it just one, or had all of them decided to run after her? She didn’t know, but she would not dare turn her head to see.

“Get back here, wench!” A low gargling voice shouted, “I’ll go easy on ya if you come back with me now!”

She didn’t reply, passing over fallen branches and flying past trees with a speed she had no idea she was capable of. Even with how fast she was going… the footsteps were drawing ever closer, and closer, until finally…

The ground rose to meet her, and her forehead thunked off the forest floor and turned her thoughts to mush. Large hands gripped her shoulders, forcefully turning her to face the swirling sky. She slashed wildly with her dagger, and the sharp steel connected with flesh, eliciting a cry of agony from her attacker. The blade was then slapped out of her hand, and a bearded ugly face sneered down at her, annoyance plain in his eyes as he felt gingerly at the fresh cut on his brow.

“I told ya I’d go easy on you, but now…” He said with a growl, “You made me mad.”

A single hand bound her wrists together, raising them above her head and pinning them to the dirt. To her horror, the man's free hand began reaching down toward her chest, palm open.

“No problem in sampling the goods before sale…” The man muttered to himself with a grin.

“No!” She shrieked, bucking her hips to try and remove the foul man from atop her.

This wasn’t going to happen, she wasn’t going to let it happen, with the Overseer as her witness, she vowed that this would not take place! She bucked again as his hands finally began to grope, a feeling of pure revulsion filling her as he did so. Again she fought, and this time, the hand binding her wrists came away slightly, allowing her to pull a single arm free from his grip. He snarled, his other hand leaving her chest to try and seize her again, but he was not fast enough.

Her freed hand gripped the hilt of the dagger again, and without hesitation, she plunged it into the bandit’s neck with a snarl. Stabbing a man did not feel like she had thought it would. There was so much resistance, it was surprising that she’d managed to sink the blade so far with her thin arms. Yet unlike the hand that wielded it, Morga’s dagger was strong and sturdy, splitting the flesh beneath it like it was hot butter. His eyes looked pained for an instant before he stood, stumbling back as he gripped at his own neck, gurgling as blood torrented from his throat and down his body, soaking his clothes with crimson.

He then fell to his knees, trying to choke something out of his ruined throat. Most likely a curse or a threat if she were to guess. Morla’s green eyes went wide with shock as the bandit finally fell over, twitching slightly as she rose to her feet, drawing closer to the dead man as she stared, oddly fascinated.

She expected to feel guilty for having taken a life but… but she didn’t. The only thing she felt for the corpse at her feet was pure contempt. She sneered, spitting on the body before gripping the dagger and bracing her foot on its shoulder. The blade came out with a shlick, the steel covered in blood from tip to hilt. This was a side of herself that Morla had never known existed… Was this indifference to death inherited from her father? Had Morga had to kill like this before?

“Oi!” Another voice shouted, “The bitch killed Lamy!”

Her head shot up, seeing three other bandits staring at her and the still-twitching corpse, clearly shocked. Jareed then circled around the wagon, grinning as he approached.

“He was unimportant.” He said in his greasy accent, waving a dismissive hand “All it means is that the ransom will be split among eight now, not nine. Hardly a loss.”

“Bastard!” Morla spat, “After all my father’s done for you!?”

The desire to drive the blade into Jareed’s neck grew stronger as he spoke. Nothing would please her more than to end this foreigner's life.

Jareed shrugged, “My new employer is going to do far more for me, so naturally I’m moving on. Morga just so happens to be part of the first job I was hired for. My previous association with him proved to be a great convenience, no?” He asked with a greasy smirk, “This new occupation seems to be starting out fantastically.”

“And what occupation is that!?” Morla shouted, “To be a common bandit!?”

“In a way. I suppose a bit of hostage-taking and some slaving could be considered banditry. Yet, I am going to be better than a mere highwayman, I’m aiming to be the new king of Relias’s underworld, you two are just the first step I’m taking to get there.” He smirked, his eyes finding the gushing corpse of his associate. “You know… In truth, I’m very glad you killed Lamy, if he had successfully ravaged you, your value on the market would have been severely reduced.” He continued, drawing ever closer with his band of degenerates, “I’m looking to make a profit, and there are plenty of influential people in Relias that would be willing to pay a small fortune to get their hands on a young untouched woman like you.” She continued to back away as they all began closing the distance between them, “I would have killed this fool myself before he could have gone further, you should be grateful that I would be so kind.”

“I’m going to gut you like a fish, Jareed!” She shouted, anger replacing her fear as she bared the dagger at him, “I am not something to be sold!”

Jareed then chuckled, shaking his head like he was arguing with a child, “All people can be for sale if they’re simple enough to get caught in such an obvious trap, and as of right now, you are my employer’s property.”

“I’ll gut him too!” She yelled, a vein popping on her temple as she felt her face redden.

“Her.” He corrected with a smug smile, “Don’t worry you’ll meet madame soon enough, you can voice your complaints to her.”

Before his seven cutthroats could seize her, a strange, almost mechanical whirring could be heard from behind her, with slow, heavy pounding echoing after it. It had an almost… musical quality, all it needed was a third instrument to complete it. Foolish girl! This wasn’t the time to be thinking of music! Even as she thought it, the tempo seemed to become more aggressive, the pounding quickening as the whirring grew louder. The men before her then stumbled back with a shriek of terror as a massive shadow loomed over her. She twitched once before slowly, she turned her head. Standing there, a mere ten paces away, was a monster.

image [https://i.imgur.com/8kli1Yu.jpeg]

The beast had green metallic flesh that glinted in the sunlight, its single solid red eye seeming to glare right at her. It towered over even the tallest vagabond accompanying Jareed, and was at least three times as broad across the shoulders. Its arms and legs were both as wide as tree-trunks, looking powerful enough to punch and kick through solid stone. In its monstrous hands it held a massive and strange looking device. Six small hollow staves sat in a circle, their dark interiors pointed directly at her assailants as the metal ogre’s finger rested on… was that a trigger? Its other hand was solely focused on holding the tool aloft, tilting it slightly so that the strange tubes weren’t facing her direction.

She heard Jareed choke before he stammered, “J-just scare it off, chase it and see if it will flee!”

The ogre tilted its head, apparently confused at the words.

She heard hesitant complaints from Jareed’s lackeys before the man shouted again, “Then grab the bitch and let’s run! Perhaps it won’t give chase!”

This order seemed far more acceptable to the men, who clearly did not favor throwing their lives away in a suicide charge. After the order was given, she could hear their footsteps quickly approaching through the crunch of leaves. The ogre then suddenly lifted a hand, its red eye staring right at her before pointing directly to the ground. She paused for a brief instant before she, for some strange reason, complied with the signed command, falling flat to the ground just before the air above her erupted in thunder. Her hands squeezed her ears, trying to shut out the dozens of thunderclaps that threatened to burst her eardrums. Even with her ears clutched and body pressing hard against the cold forest floor, she could still both hear and feel the air above her split with a speed that terrified her. If she had claws she would have burrowed into the earth to escape that thunder…

It was over in just a second, and after a few more passed, she slowly sat up, staring at a scene of carnage. Bodies littered the forest floor, riddled with dozens of bleeding holes that pooled into the dirt around them. Jareed cowered on the ground, but sadly she was unable to hear if he was whimpering in fear. All that she could hear was a high pitched ringing that threatened to split her skull. There was this strange smell about the air, almost like… burnt metal.

Morla then turned her attention back to the ogre, seeing that the tubes on its device were slowly rotating around one another, hot smoke spilling from each hole. What in the world just happened!? Clearly that device had been what the beast had used to kill her attackers, but what had been done? Was it some kind of automatic crossbow? Where were the bolts then? All that was visible on the corpses were the several gory holes that had been left behind, there was nothing sticking out of them… but something had to have created them.

The ogre hadn’t used magic to enhance its weapon, for none of the Overseer’s runes had appeared on its surface. She shook her head, figuring out the mechanics of this creature's weapon should be the furthest thing from her mind. Her father needed her help now, and Jareed still needed to be killed! Yet, she hesitated. Was she safe? It truly did seem that the ogre had saved her, perhaps its intentions weren’t vile? The thing had even warned her to get down before firing off that volley.

Yet, what if that had been so it could eat her intact carcass later? She had heard that ogre’s preferred women’s flesh to men’s. Again she shook her head, her legs failing her as Morla struggled to stand. It would have just killed her along with the rest of them had its end goal been to eat her, Ogre’s didn’t have the capacity to understand keeping a kill intact. She also seriously doubted that it ‘desired’ her. She had heard that Ogres thought of humans in the same light as goblins, only good for eating… Which, while a relief, didn’t ease her. She still didn’t know what it wanted, so what was its goal?