“The enemy is at the gates,

They won’t be seeking parlay.

The enemy surrounds my walls,

A misbegotten army.

The enemy they swear a vow,

Of what they’re taking from me.

The enemy wants what I have,

They won’t be taking any.

— The Ballad of Sir Joe, by “Golden-Voiced” Garbeaux.

In that moment, I must admit, that all hope did seem lost but I still drew breath and, as a storyteller, obviously I coudln’t call it there. If I did then, truly, those years spent in Bard’s college were wasted. Sonnet’s University, home of the Mufinger Foundation’s Future Storytellers Program. So fraught was my existence under Joe that I only then, years hence, realized that Joe was farming bards from my alma mater.

For his song, “The Ballad of Sir Joe”, I’d been handed the notes of my predecessors, mostly unsigned, in some places Joe, himself taking credit. My own contribution, the only part written in ink, was a silly, simple thing calling him “the bravest of them all”. It was terrible, I was ashamed of it and, even if he hadn’t told me not to sign it, I wouldn’t have. However, the idiot noble had killed himself; from that moment on I would take the credit that was mine.

Sitting on a stone in the hamlet I saw why Mulfingerswick was built on this exact patch of land; natural springwater sprang from a nearby outcropping of rock, only waist high, a small pool forming beneath of crystal clear water and a stream that actually went back to ground water before leaving the property. A springhouse should be built here, I thought, to keep the delicious springwater pure. For now, however, I would write of the spring’s beauty. In ink.

It was Aimee who first approached me in my funk, “Garbeaux?” It was unusual to hear my name pronounced correctly so I looked at her, but sideways. “Would you like some lunch? It’s just more eggs but it’s much better fare than we’ve had recently. I guess Bill doesn’t kill his chickens. They die of natural causes, then he slaughters them. There must be foxes about or something. Otherwise why does he have so few chickens?”

Aimee fell silent. I thought about it long and hard, unsure, mostly unsure of what the next step would be. A goblin king held that rank because he had a stronghold and more goblins than could be easily quantified. If we could just get some magic items, enough to weather the storm of the goblin waves, then three-on-one ending the goblin king’s reign would be possible. I obsessed on this because I knew someone else was doing the same. “Is McGrue still angry?”

“Oh, Gab,” There was the nickname again. “He’s not mad at you. You’re just kind of … in charge. In our adventures the person in charge has been a horrific nightmare, an oppressive tyrant; he just needs time to adjust.”

“Wait…” I thought hard, “So he’s cross with me because he’s looking at me like he would at Joe?” My lip curled in irritation. “That’s not fair.”

“No. No it isn’t, and I’m not positive it’s even on purpose. But after so many broken promises, made to work for free, with no power over his own destiny, can you blame him?” Aimee showed the wisdom of her kind.

Chuckling, I shook my head, “I don’t blame anyone by myself. The thought of disappointing you fine folk is just … paralyzing. What do we do next? Joe lived like a king, yes, but I saw the books. The guild paid for everything just to keep him on-hand. The coin flowing into his coffers didn’t just disappear. I never knew him to sell anything either. The stones of his manor house are undisturbed. We could try to excavate. Nothing’s looted because there’s no place where the looted items could’ve been. Bill would’ve noticed if thieves came. I’m sure of it. Sharp ears on that boy.”

“Oi! Mister Gabbo!? Need somethin’?” called Bill.

Aimee and I shared a shocked look. “No?” I looked to Aimee and whispered, “was I shouting? He’s so far away, barely a speck on the horizon.”

“Sorry, what was that?” called Bill again. “Somethin’ about a deck on the rye den? We got no rye and decks and dens don’t usually connect.”

Aimee and I shared another look, unwilling to speak again while the massive youth was focused on us. Instead, we started walking over towards where he was digging in the dirt.

“Bill, my friend, I … we just thought we’d see what you were doing over here. Pulling weeds?”

The grinning man-boy held up a cluster of bulbous root stock. “Ah, naw, Mister Gabbo. Mister McGrue and I was digging out po-ta-toes. This farm had a big patch and, now, most of the small plants here are all food. Ain’t it grand?”

“McGrue?” I asked, confused, for I had not seen McGrue.

“McGrue.” a rough voice whispered in my ear and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He’d snuck right up on me. Laughing uproariously he slapped his knee. “Ah, cor, gods, you … you would be dead were I a snake, Gabbo!”

Dropping to my posterior, clutching my chest, it was a terror I’d never felt before. “You … gods, McGrue, I had no idea you were so sneaky. And I thought you were mad!”

“Pfft,” started McGrue, “you ain’t seen mad out of me, Gabbo. I mean, yeah, your schemes haven’t panned out so far but it’s not like you robbed me. Joe did that.”

“He did?” asked Bill. “But … Joe’s the richest, greatest man there is, ain’t he? Why’d he rob you?”

“Ah, well,” McGrue looked for the right words. “See, kid, when you hire somebody you gotta pay ‘em, right?”

“Oh, yes Mister McGrue, and he paid me right on time every month. I understand that very well.”

“Uh, yeah, good for you. Now, us, not so–” thunk. That is to say the sound of thunk, as in an arrow hit McGrue in the shoulder. He looked down at the arrow, barely phased. “Uh-oh!”

“That is right, my friends, I have found you! I, Roderick the Rose, and my Desperate Men!” The bandit leader from before, unfortunately alive, cried from atop a boulder at the edge of the property.

“Wait,” I rose, unsteadily, from my seat of potatoes. “Your group is called the Desperate Men? Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

“What do you mean? These are men who the King has, basically, evicted from his Kingdom, men without a state. Mostly just for being broke in the first place. Hell, they break the law just by being in the King’s forest but, luckily, Laurent hides behind his walls, sending no patrols outside of them.

“I mean … it’s okay,” I said, “but somewhat inartful, don’t you think? Why desperate? Maybe some alliteration like ‘Roderick the Rose and his Miserable Men’? Huh?” I smiled to sell the cleverness of my argument.

“Yeah yeah, I’m not taking advice given at the point of a sword.” Roderick placed a hand on the hilt at his hip. “You’re just trying to keep my attention away from the fact that only adventurers venture out of Fereal; fat, rich adventurers.”

McGrue rolled his eyes, “C’mon, man, we’re not rich! Our boss hasn’t even paid us in nine months! Only reason we got food in our bellies is this kid’s generous chickens.” Bill waved in friendly fashion.

Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a flash of white sundress; Aimee, slipping through the untended foliage alongside the wall that led to the back where the carriage, and Joe, were hidden. “It’s true!” I called, hoping to distract Roderick long enough for Aimee to get the monstrous corpse together again. “We hoped to recoup some of our arrears here but, alas, our lord’s coffers are bare and his manor house is in rubble.”

“Yyyes, your lord,” Roderick scratched his hairy chin. “The one with the truly ridiculous number of magic items on him. Where is he now?”

Well, so much for pleading poverty, “Oi, friend, you don’t want that. I promise you.” said McGrue.

“Ah, doesn’t matter. I’ll find him and, then, I’ll kill him and, y’know, rob his corpse.” Man, this bandit guy was cocky.

I laughed, “And how will you do that? We wiped out your army of ‘Desperate men’ the first time you ambushed us!”

This time it was Roderick who started laughing. He did so until he cried, actually, then, sighing, “Ah, ye brainless blackguards, you thought that my scouting party was all of my Desperate Men? The King’s exiled thousands!”

“Th-thousands?” I stuttered.

“Correct! So, yeah … I have more guys.” Roderick smiled.

McGrue held his hands up, “C’mon! Let’s talk about this!”

The man calling himself “The Rose” raised a finger high overhead, “Now, my Desperate Men…”

McGrue shouted desperately, “Parley, dammit. Parley!”

In the middle of it all, “I have no idea what’s going on,” mused Bill.

Finally, Roderick, “...attack!”

And the rain of arrows began to fall; first a drizzle, then a downpour. The Desperate Men were still pitiful shots, likely with only a few arrows each, but there had to be hundreds of them this time. “Get down!” shouted McGrue, tackling Bill to the ground.

The order wasn’t for me, I was supposed to be in charge after all, but I ducked into one of the hovels with a partial roof anyway and then I waited. As the arrows hit they sounded like hail, striking all around me, above me, slowing and finally stopping. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to duck out and run for Aimee’s position. The both of us could get behind Joe as the bandits charged the Manor.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

My flight was short-lived, however. “Ah-ah-ah…” taunted Roderick the Rose as he met me just outside the hovel’s dilapidated door. “I can see that you and I have much in common, sirrah.” He thrust his blade at me, just outside of range, but advancing, “We both practice a combat art that is not mere savagery. Come, we shall clash, steel-to-steel, and first blood shall tell who is the better man. To the victor go the spoils!”

I drew my rapier, not so much to agree to this foolish duel, but because his sword kept jabbing at my face. Knocking it aside, I deflected a thrust and attempted riposte’. “Why are you after me!?”

Roderick swept my blade aside, spinning and missing a thrust as I hollowed my body. “Why? Surely you are the one in charge of the property? I mean, your lord does nothing to defend his land and yet, here you are, sword drawn, dueling me.”

Finding an incline I parried several skilled thrusts then attempted to press him from above, “What? No! You started the duel. I was trying to run!”

“Such humility is unbefitting men such as we! Aha!” He advanced but I managed to get around him, spinning on my heel.

Nearby McGrue and Bill were getting up, the Orc noticing me and the both of them coming my way as I backed towards the carriage. In every direction the Desperate Men charged, their battlecries filling the air with sound. “You’re going to be very disappointed, Roderick!”

“Sirrah, there is confidence but you are too confident! I can tell you are no dedicated duelist like myself!” he said with a flourish.

“No! I’m not confident! There’s no treasure, you nitwit!” To my horror McGrue passed me by, dragging Bill. As they went I could see that McGrue had absorbed a few dozen arrows, like last time but worse, seemingly having protected Bill. “Where are you going!?”

“Sorry, kid–” shouted McGrue, “--but his mayorship here needs protecting!”

“Mayor!?” exclaimed Roderick, a glint in his eye. “So I was mistaken! The large fellow was merely some sort of protector! Yes, he should ransom nicely.”

“No!” I crossed swords with Roderick as the first Desperate Men slid and rolled into the hamlet’s clearing, “He’s just a kid! An orphan!”

I couldn’t see but I heard it; the opulent carriage bursting open, the massive, controlled undead. What I did see was Roderick’s eyes go wide as he said, “He is as terrifying as my many men have told me.”

Then, as I relaxed a little, distracted by his distraction, he jabbed me in the shoulder with his sword. “Ow!” I said, pushing him away.

“There. Fight’s over. I win. Where’s my loot?” said Roderick.

“I…?” I looked back at Joe, the Desperate Men descending upon him from every direction, a few having been rent in twain already. McGrue and Bill were under the carriage, McGrue had his pack from the driver’s seat and was arming Bill. I looked back to Roderick, “I never agreed to that!”

“Yes you did!” he argued, “I set the terms and then we fought. If you had objections you should have made them then!”

“I did! Oh, you are just the worst!” I shouted as we crossed swords again. We struggled as Joe tore through the low-level bandits. Some were climbing the manor house via the many holes left by missing stones, plummeting down and dying just by landing on Joe. “My boss may be ripping your men apart but you’re the one killing them!”

Roderick glanced and saw the mounting carnage, then looked to me, “Gotta go!” he said, ducking into the manor house and disappearing.

“Son of a bitch! Aimee!?” I caught sight of her right as she hurled a globe, striking Joe who, while unaffected, I suddenly felt all my contempt for him well up inside me; a seething anger.

“Get away from Joe!” she shouted, “Unguent of Loathing!” and dashed from the carriage. The sweet smell of hatred spread out hugely. I could see Roderick picking about in the manor house, casting glances back outside, looking furious. The Desperate Men ignored us, barreling past and running into the whirling, windmilling death rotor known as Sir Joe the Bold!

The lot of us headed to the opposite corner of the property. Aimee wasn’t even trying to control Joe, leaving him to, hopefully, finish our dirty work. “What now, Gabbo?” asked McGrue.

“How am I to know? We ran as quick as we could, Bill lagging behind. “You okay, Bill?”

“Those lot, who were they?” he asked me, “why are they attacking … why are they fighting Joe?”

This wasn’t good. It had gone unspoken but revealing Joe’s fate to Bill, an obvious Mulfinger heir, was rife with all sorts of potential problems. I found myself speechless, hoping that the run would explain my delay or that someone, anyone else would step in.

“They’re bad guys, Billy! Joe fights the baddies and they’re bad! Simple as that!” and McGrue with the save!

Better still, we encountered stragglers, Desperate Men not already climbing the walls of the manor or dying five and ten at a time to Joe’s flailing limbs. The fact that they spread out so far meant that Joe would probably not fall. The rest of us, however, easily could as we formed up ranks.

McGrue gripped Bill by the shoulder, “Boy, you draw that short sword I gave ya’, hear?”

“But … but I don’t want to hurt nobody!” sniffled the youth. It was easy to forget that he was fourteen at the oldest, perhaps as young as twelve.

McGrue had actually clipped the scabbard onto the boy’s belt, not just placed it in his hand. Grabbing Bill’s hand he thrust it upon the hilt of the blade. “We are only guests here, Billiam. You’re the Mayor. Now are you going to defend Mulfingerswick or leave it to the houseguests?”

“I … I don’t know!” Bill was clearly upset at the idea of having to hurt anyone. On the other hand the stragglers were still approaching and, from a force of hundreds, their dozens were still a challenge for us.

“Dammit Bill! Do you even know who killed your mum!? What if it was the Desperate Men!? I mean–” Instantly Bill spat out an inhuman shriek, ran, and dove at the first bandits that he encountered. “Damn!”

At first he forgot he had a weapon, snapping one neck with a twist and just folding another Desperate Men up with an ape-like overhead swing of both fists. Only when they started to surround him did he draw the short sword and start slicing them to ribbons.

Still, the boy had started to bleed, so we shook ourselves out of the shock at his fury and charged unto the fray. McGrue soaked up blows like the beast he was, Billiam made all doubt in his lineage disappear and Aimee actually demonstrated some impressive eldritch magic aura that repelled weapons and made her touch burn like fire.

Then everything stopped all at once as the outer wall, most of one side of Mulfinger Manor, caved in. Screaming bandits ran from Joe, now clearly visible atop a mountain of corpses, screaming “Brains!” before dropping down to literally start eating a dead body’s head. No, wait, that bandit started screaming…

“This place is a shithole!” cried out Roderick from atop what remained of the manor. More of his men’s corpses were among the stones, their weight and abuse of the loose stonework having brought it down. Lithely he bounded to the ground, unfettered by the rubble. “Why didn’t you tell me there was nothing of worth here!?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aimee take control of Joe so that he fell still. As we converged, meeting Roderick in the middle alongside perhaps two dozen of his men, I yelled back, “I’ve told you nothing but that!”

“I don’t think that’s true.” said the bandit leader, crossing his arms. Behind him I could see Aimee pulling the cracked skull of a bandit’s corpse out of Joe’s mouth.

“I … I did! We’re just here for this boy here. His … well, his dad kind of abandoned him. The carriage is just a remnant of better days.”

“Hm. Sad. You there boy, you look pretty … Desperate? Hm?” Roderick cocked an eyebrow at me as Aimee could be seen, apparently with some pain, pulling the spell back out of Joe and shoving it back into its scroll.

“Get. Off. My. Land…” growled Bill, practically glowing with menace.

“But … but wait! This place is abandoned?” asked one of the Desperate Men.

“What do you care? Our home is the forest!” said Roderick, in shock that one of his bandits spoke out loud.

“I’m just sayin’... I was a farmer before the King seized my land and kicked me and my family out. If the land needs tendin’ and this boy’s the one in charge...”

Bill growled but McGrue got in his ear. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“But what if he’s the one that killed me mum!?” whisper-screamed Bill.

McGrue shook his head, “Nah. He was a farmer. Not a gang member. You heard.”

“Oh … yeah.” Bill looked down at the bandit, “I’m Billiam Billingsly, Mayor of Mulfingerswick. We got room for families.”

“Really!?” thrilled the bandit. “Oh, I … look, I have to find all my old neighbors. They turned our neighborhood into a vomitorium or something. You’ll love ‘em!”

“You guys have got to be kidding me!” shouted Roderick as the bandit ran off, then, “Oh well, I still got lots more guys.”

“What now, mister ‘The Rose’?” I asked, angrily, “You’ve caused us no end of grief, gotten hundreds of your own ‘guys’ killed and for what? Nothing. We have nothing so you gain nothing.”

“Did I?” asked Roderick, “Or did I send many mouths I’ve had to feed on to a happy afterlife?”

“What?” I asked, shocked, “Don’t … don’t you care about your people at all?”

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed, “this is why I lead them. Without me they would be aimless, unable to function! Now come on, my many Men!” Roderick walked off, leaving McGrue and myself to pick up the pieces.

Looking around I realized that Bill was no longer present. Casting about, something like twenty men, women and children were gathered about him as he waved his arms, pointing, seemingly assigning plots and tasks to the people. “Oh … oh my. How many of the Desperate Men were youths and women, McGrue?”

“Ehhh … I’m not gonna linger on that.” said the stoic Orc, “Ah, Aimee. Cat’s back in the bag again I hope?”

Hustling up, breathing hard, shaking her hands out, Aimee looked like she may have dealt with another backlash. If so she was taking it in stride, “If Bill asks Joe was injured in the fight and is not to be bothered as he heals.”

“Yeah … we’d best touch base with the young lord Mayor.” I said and we walked towards the gathered throng about Bill.

Off to the side Roderick lingered, casting about for his followers. Angrily he shouted at us, “They all want to be here now!? You’ll pay for messing with my many men, sirrah! Don’t forget, I have many many more Desperate Men where they came from!”

I called back to him, “I have nothing to do with that, Roderick!”

And he to me, “I don’t think that’s true!”

“Then talk to the Mayor!” I yelled at him, gesturing towards Bill.

“No!” he shouted, ducking out of the Hamlet and into some brush.

“What an idiot.” I muttered. Then, just as we approached Bill, the crowd broke up, “Billiam! Look at you; Mayor of a town with actual people in it.”

“Heh, yeah. Pretty grand, it is.” Bill stuck his thumbs in the waist of his breeches, suddenly bashful.

“Mister Mayor!” called a youth, probably Bill’s own age, charging up, “Mister Mayor! Your manor house is destroyed but you won’t believe it!”

“Huh?” grunted Bill, “No, I believe it. It’s knocked down. I watched the pieces fall to where they are now.”

“No, sir, you don’t understand; there’s a whole floor underneath. Part of the wall smashed down through the dirt into some sort of cellar. There’s weapons and armor! We think some of it might be magic!”