The terrain gradually transitioned from the dense, tree-covered swamplands to a more solid and hilly region. The ground beneath our feet remained slightly

damp, but the thick vegetation gave way to rocky outcroppings and uneven terrain. In the distance, a small village could be glimpsed, no more than a day's walk away.

As they trekked onward, Korgan turned to me with a furrowed brow. "So, sorcerer, what brings you to the swamplands? Are you looking to join a gang? I hear the Sharks are recruiting."

I shook my head, a wry smile playing on my lips. "Not at all, my old friend. I was seeking you out to ask you to join me on another expedition to an old world ruin."

Korgan's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "No. I've had enough of those so-called ruins and their deadly traps. That's precisely why I left the last time. You should consider

retiring from that risky business, else one day they'll tell your story as a cautionary tale. Besides, I'm not for hire at the moment. I'm on what those flowery nobles call a sabbatical."

I persisted, my eyes gleaming with determination. "Would you not even consider it? I can triple your pay and give you a generous cut of the loot. You know I can't quit this. I'm doing it for the lost knowledge, for my race, and for all the people of this world. You witnessed yourself how I share this knowledge."

Korgan held up a hand, his voice firm. "I said I won't join you, and that's that. For aiding me in the bar fight and getting us out of that village, I'll see you safely to the closest city of your choosing. There, you'll be relatively safe."

I sent a round scouting drone ahead, over the hill. Through the screen of my headset, I observed a group of rough-looking men, clad in rags and bearing weapons. Bandits.

I assessed the situation, my mind racing with possibilities. These bandits, though disorganized, posed a significant threat. In a world where lawlessness reigned supreme, especially in the treacherous swamplands, encounters with such groups were all too common.

"Korgan," I said, my voice low and urgent, "Bandits ahead. At least ten of them. Let's use the 'poor old man alone on the road' tactic. I'll draw them in while you hide behind that large boulder over there." He pointed to a sizable rock formation nearby, perfect for concealment.

Korgan nodded, his expression grave. "Be careful, sorcerer. These swamp rats are vicious and unpredictable."

As Korgan made his way to the designated hiding spot, I continued down the path, my posture stooped and my pace slow, deliberately making myself appear weak and vulnerable.

The bandits, drawn by the sight of an easy target, emerged from their hiding places, their weapons glinting in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. They approached me with a menacing swagger, their eyes gleaming with greed and malice.

Sensing the bandits' approach, I let out a shout and began retreating back towards the boulder. I stopped a few meters short, hoping to lure the bandits between myself and Korgan. With a feigned stumble, I called out to them, "Please don't hurt me! All I have is this!"

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In my hands, I held a fireball grenade, which looked like an ornate metal ball. As the bandits drew closer, I activated the device with a press, and it transformed into a ball of flame in

mid-air. The projectile struck the closest bandit, engulfing him in unquenchable flames. The remaining bandits, startled by the sudden turn of events, were caught off guard as Korgan emerged from his hiding spot, wielding his massive horse chopper blade.

Korgan sliced through two bandits from behind with devastating efficiency, their lives snuffed out before they even realized the danger. The chaos that erupted gave me ample opportunity to throw two more fireball grenades, setting two more bandits ablaze. Korgan chopped down another bandit, leaving only four survivors who wisely chose to flee.

One of the escaping bandits was felled by a spear thrown by Korgan , the sharp implement lodged in his back, tripping him and the bandit who collided with him. The remaining two bandits continued their desperate flight, a wise choice given the carnage left in their wake. I will add that to most of the savages of this world my hand grenades seemed like magic.

Seeing the potential for a handsome reward, I shouted to Korgan, "Wait, this guy has a bounty on his head!" I pulled out a wanted paper to confirm, announcing, "One thousand dogo coins!"

The captured bandit, sensing a reprieve, begged for mercy, pleading, "No wait, I'll do anything you want, just don't turn me in. I have a stash!"

Korgan, his expression stern, ordered, "Disarm yourself and tie up your hands." The bandit complied, his fear palpable. He pleaded for mercy, claiming he was just a poor, starving man who stole to survive.

Korgan looked at me, acknowledging the man's lies. "Alright, you'll take us to your stash. If I smell any deceit, my sorcerer friend here will cast a curse that will make your

manhood fall, and then we'll turn you in for the bounty on your head. If everything goes well, I might let you go."

The bandit, no doubt relieved at the prospect of a lesser punishment, led the duo back into the swamp. Inside a hollowed-out trunk, concealed by the marshy water, they found his

hidden stash, containing an additional four hundred dogo coins, a few trinkets, cheap jewels, a copper bar, and a mead skin. This find was disappointing, as it barely covered the bounty on the man's head.

Korgan, visibly annoyed, prepared to leave the bandit for dead. However, the man pleaded for his life, offering to carry his comrades' weapons to add to the potential sale.

Korgan, still angered by the situation, barked, "If I hear another word from you, I'll slay you. Now march."

The newly acquired captive, flanked by Korgan and myself, made our way towards the nearest village.

The guards greeted the trio as they approached the village, their spears at the ready. "Halt! State your business here."

Korgan stepped forward, his massive frame towering over the guards. "We have a slave to sell and goods to trade. Take us to your village elder."

The lead guard nodded, eyeing the captured bandit warily. "Very well. Follow me."

we followed the guard through the village, our captive trailing behind us. The villagers stopped and stared as they passed, whispering amongst themselves.

The guard led the captive away to join the other slaves, while myself and Korgan made our way to the village elder's hut. There, we were greeted by the elder's son,

who informed us that his father was ill and unable to meet with us. Undeterred, I presented our goods to trade, including bandit weapons, and trinkets.

When Korgan referred to me as a "sorcerer," the elder's son eagerly inquired if I possessed a spell to cure his father's ailment. Desperate for a cure, the son granted me access to his father.

Upon examining the elder, I discovered that he was suffering from a severe fever, a condition that usually proved fatal in this world. However, my people's unique physiology prevents us from such inflammatory reactions. I administered an antibiotic remedy that I kept for occasions such as these.

For several days, I tended to the elder, administering the cure until he recovered. Grateful for his miraculous healing, the elder's family and the villagers showered us with provisions and gifts, filling a large basket bag to the brim.

As we prepared to depart, Korgan inquired about our destination. I replied, "We're heading to a border town called Crossroads, located at the edge of the

border between the Holy Land and the Dragonkin Territory."

----

on banditry in this world:

From my journeys and the tales I'd heard, there were likely more bandits in this continent than standing armies, at least in numerical strength. Fortunately, their disorganized nature and geographical fragmentation prevented them from uniting under a single banner, else this world would have fallen under their dominion.

Some did coalesce into minor factions, but most either perished on the roads, were crushed by armed forces, or negotiated with local rulers.

They mostly got crushed when they became a nuisance, to be replaced by new gangs. Banditry wasn't a scarce profession in this world, with a steady supply of escaped slaves, rogue peasants, deserters, and the morally bankrupt seeking a quick fortune. And in the lawless Swamplands, where the dispossessed gathered, they flourished.