"We're still investigating total losses, but it's not looking good. Damned bandits got into crates of fruit, stained glass, dyes, inks, even lumber. And they managed to damage the axles on three different carts. I'm guessing at least a day until we can repair and get back on the road." Darius explained to his uncle.

Prin swore colorfully, rubbing his eyes before replying, "How didn't we see them coming? What is the point of guards if you can't catch half-starved thieves?"

Darius frowned, replying, "Those men were far from half-starved. They weren't a match for Lucas or me, but they were far from the usual fare."

"Still. Your men should have caught them before they set foot in the clearing. How did they get as far as they did?" Prin muttered, rubbing his chin.

How indeed, I wondered as I helped carry the contents of one crate away, moving just within earshot to catch their conversation.

Bandits and thieves were rare, often too frightened of the threat of magic to do anything too overt. It's a significant risk, trying to steal from someone that might toss a fireball into your face, after all. There was a reason they near-exclusively targeted small villages, commoners that strayed too far, and the like.

A caravan was a risky target, with far too much of a chance of a mage. Prin might not bother, confident his guards were enough of a deterrent, but it was not unreasonable to assume they might have one on hand.

But the bandits had attacked anyway, apparently not concerned by the possibility. More than that, their weapons were half-way decent, and they used some sort of magical bomb. Things did not add up, and there were too many unanswered questions for my tastes.

Espionage focused not just on learning to spy on or hide from others but also on picking up and putting together signs and clues. Professor Morell drilled into our heads that most of the time, intelligence won the day. And that was what rang in my head as I walked back towards the edge of the clearing.

A charred patch of grass and a small crater marked where their bomb had narrowly missed us. Spots of brown, dried blood here and there, and fragments of wood were scattered along the ground as well. I padded closer, reaching out mentally to see if there was anything I was missing.

"What were you thinking?" I muttered under my breath as I walked, stopping near one tree. Unfortunately, there was little to learn there, and if any clues were hidden in the grass, I did not see them.

Returning to camp, I approached Julia, who sat on the edge of her cart. At first, she did not notice me, nibbling the nail on her pinky with an absent look in her eyes. I laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped with a start, turning with a glare.

"Wow, you move on cat's feet. Have you ever considered announcing yourself?" she snapped, frowning as she stared at me.

I gave her a smile, replying, "Sorry. I thought you heard me."

She sighed, responding, "No, it's fine. Sorry, it's just that this could be a big setback. Those thieves destroyed a lot of our supplies, which bites into profits."

I leaned forward as I thought of my response. I had the first inklings of a theory, but I needed more information before jumping to any conclusions.

"How much did you lose?" I asked, meeting her eyes.

She paused before replying, "Don't tell my grandfather I told you, but a small fortune. I'm not completely sure, but I'm guessing hundreds of gold, at least."

Trying not to let my surprise show, I responded, "Have you had trouble from bandits before?"

She snorted, shaking her head at my response.

"A few times before, but never this bad. Usually, we find that they broke open a food crate or stole some fabric. Most of them just want to survive, and they steal what they need. I just don't get it."

"Neither do I," I answered, rubbing my chin. But I intended to figure out why.

That night, I sat several dozen feet in the air, curled up on a branch in the shadows. The best way to solve a mystery was to keep your eyes and ears open, and up here, I could see and hear plenty.

Every night, we had four guards on watch at any one point. It was common for each to take a corner of the camp, keeping their eyes peeled and weapons ready just in case. Some asking around had told me that of the four, two were long-time members of the caravan, both related to Prin although distantly. I doubted their slow response was anything more than a case of being too far away to notice.

The other two, however, were not related and had joined a few years earlier. They had served as soldiers for a time, and when they left, they had gotten jobs from Prin as the only thing they knew how to do well.

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It was not much of a leap to theorize that the bandits might have had inside help with their raid. In fact, I suspected that Prin and Darius had come to a similar conclusion. Eyes had been on my back all day, and if I had not been so eager to charge and try to run through one of the bandits, I would be the primary suspect.

The question was, why? I doubted bandits had much gold to spare, but these ones seemed a bit more well-equipped than most. They had attacked with purpose, damaging without taking anything significant and purposefully looking to delay us, it seemed.

All that told me that maybe they were just the weapons, not the wielders, as it were.

Below me, one of the men I suspected, a guard named Torem, walked one way and the other, a broad sword and shield in hand. Several faded scars marred his face, and his eyes scanned the clearing with deliberate focus. As casual as could be, he drifted closer to one edge of the clearing, stopping near a patch of trees.

From behind him, bushes rustled, and I stretched out my senses, detecting the faintest wisps of mana, too weak to be anything but an ordinary man.

Moving with agonizing slowness, I crept along the edge of the branch, moving closer to the man. Minutes passed, but I finally managed to get close enough that voices resolved into words.

"-again, they'll figure out something is wrong. I'm lucky that new brat signed on, or Darius might've questioned me more, but I managed to push some suspicions onto him." Torem muttered, a scowl evident in his voice though I could not see his face in the shadows.

"Not a problem. A few more days, and you'll be a very wealthy man. Our mutual friend pays his debts, you'll find." a voice answered from below.

Narrowing my eyes, I leaned closer, but I must have missed it if they had more to say. A few seconds later, Torem wandered back into the clearing, moving as if nothing had changed.

I paused for a moment before moving through the branches. I kept my senses on the other man on the forest floor, feeling his pitiful mana signature pick its way through the undergrowth and trees.

Something fascinating about people was that they rarely looked up, even in the depths of a forest. Few things were dangerous enough to warrant such caution, and interestingly most magic beasts rarely bothered attacking ordinary people. They fed off mana, after all, and commoners had precious little to offer.

All of that lent my target an unwarranted sense of bravado as he walked away, branches cracking under his feet once we were out of earshot from the campsite. His carelessness set my teeth on edge, but I had to remind myself that few had my sense of hearing.

Once we had traveled a good quarter of a mile, I decided it was time to introduce myself.

Dropping the thirty feet to the ground, I bent my knees, absorbing the impact with little more than a grunt of discomfort. The bandit spun, hearing the faint noise behind him in the near-silence of night.

"What in the-" he almost shouted, reaching to draw the knife by his belt as he turned.

Stepping forward, I lashed out, one hand grabbing his wrist in an iron-clad grip while the other wrapped around his neck. Twisting my hand, I felt several bones snap like dry twigs, and the blade fell from his fingers, falling to the ground below. Only a squeeze around his throat kept him from howling in agony.

"Scream, and I will break more than just your wrist," I warned as I hoisted him up, my strength enough to lift him with just one hand.

When he gave me a nod, I loosened my grip just a hair, enough for him to draw in a ragged gasp. Sweat ran down his face, and he tried to peer at me, though the shadows of my hood hid my features from prying eyes.

"Who-who the hell are you? What do you want?" he murmured, stuttering and with one hand grabbing at my arm.

"Answers. Why did you attack that caravan? And who sent you?" I answered, keeping my tone cold and even. I remembered months ago when I had used similar tactics against thieves in the capital. At the time, I had felt scared and uncertain, my relative weakness and inexperience coloring my thoughts.

I felt neither now, only a mild annoyance finding its way through a cloud of distaste. The caravan served a purpose, hiding me, and if this man and his allies planned to ruin that, they harmed me, however indirectly. That I could help Prin and his family, who seemed good people, was a side-benefit in the end.

"We got hired to attack that caravan. No killing, but destroy cargo, damage crates, stuff like that." the thief responded, sweat continuing to pour down his face.

"And who sent you. Names. Now." I demanded, letting my grip tighten again.

"I-I don't know his name. I think the boss does, but I never got told. Calls him our friend usually, but I've never met the guy. Honest!" he gasped, not appreciating the irony that a traitorous thief used the word "honest."

Not an ideal answer, but also not a surprising one, I concluded. It made sense to keep most of the group in the dark in case things went wrong. There was less of a chance of naming a culprit if they lacked a name in the first place. But that did not mean their benefactor had not left a trail.

"Lead me to your camp. And if you warn your friends or scream, it will be the last mistake you make." I said, dropping him to the ground. He scampered to his feet, cradling his broken limb as he nodded a few times earnestly.

"Right! Right, not a problem, my lord!" he half-shouted, and I clenched my teeth but said nothing. It took him a few seconds to remember my demand, turning and walking away from me deeper into the forest. I paused for a moment, reaching out and calling his dagger to my hand before following.

Fear seemed to drive the man's steps, and walked with both speed and assurance, moving with even less subtly than before. I stayed a few feet behind, close enough to keep him in view, but just far enough to disappear into the forest if he did do something dumb. I was also careful to mark trees that we passed with a few slashes from my borrowed knife, in case I lost my way.

A half-hour of walking later, he slowed to a halt, pointing forward with his uninjured hand.

"Our camp's that way, right through that patch of trees," he said, turning back to me.

I nodded, responding, "And your leader? Is he there too?"

"Yeah, the boss should be back. He doesn't leave camp often. Doesn't want to take the risk, I think." he answered with a frown. Almost absent-mindedly, he grabbed at his wrist, wincing as he touched the broken bones.

Again, I nodded, lashing out with his dagger, slamming it into the side of his head with a crunch. His eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground, unconscious but alive. Kneeling beside him, I reached into my spatial pouch, retrieving rope and tying him up. Regardless, I doubted he would regain consciousness before I finished what I planned.

Straightening up again, I turned back towards where he indicated, pondering the question now in my head. How could I take down an entire camp of bandits?