“What the fuck are we doing up here Noel?” said a bandit. The bandit spat after he finished asking his question.

Noel, the nominal leader of this less than prestigious band of cutthroats, stared his subordinate down as he replied, “we are hiding out, you donkey brained idiot. No one is going to bother looking for us north of Cardell. The duke’s men will be all over the roads further south.”

The bandit glared back and scoffed, “I’m not afraid of any ducal brats. We might at least have a little fun down south. What’s there to do up here? We are almost as high as the plains.”

The band had made camp in a cave at the northern end of the valley of Cardell. In the distance the lights of the city could be seen at the bottom of the escarpment. Many streams and rivulets of water collected there to form a lake, and beyond that the Calme river ran in a slow current to the Enclosed Sea via the capital.

Noel felt anger coming over him as he hissed back, “look shit for brains you can’t rob and burn a village the way we did without expecting the duke to send a platoon after you. Skilled as you might think you are with that rusty pigspitter of yours, do you think the ten of us could fight a platoon of mounted men?”

The man replied grudgingly, “no I suppose you’re right Noel. It’s just so boring up here.”

Noel squinted out into the gloom, “well you’re in luck. Looks like a fire out there on the road. Might be a goat herd wandering too far from the city. Maybe he has a wife or daughter for you to play with. It will be a bit of entertainment whoever it is.”

Looking out, the others saw that there was indeed a fire on the north road. Seeing as they had long finished whatever booze they brought with them up here they decided to check it out.

Despite the improbability of danger, they still approached the fire with caution. This high up in the valley there were not any tall trees to hide behind but there were plenty of bushes. It was impossible to be completely silent with all the twigs and leaves on the ground, but they moved slowly.

What greeted them was an incongruous sight. Sitting on his heels next the fire was a single man. That was not the unusual part. Most who travelled this far north did so alone. What was unusual is that this man was wearing fine leather armour and across his knees was the most beautiful sword Noel had ever seen.

The sight immediately made him made with greed. The man looked dangerous, but they had crossbows and there were ten of them. Deciding that he would rather disarm the man before killing him Noel stepped out into the light of the fire. Seven of his men stepped out with him while the two crossbowmen stayed in the shadows and pointed their weapons at the man.

The man did not obviously react. He had his eyes closed and was breathing as if asleep.

“Well met friend,” Noel began.

“Friends, is it?” The man interrupted before Noel could continue.

Annoyed Noel chuckled before answering, “well what else could you be? You travelled all the way out here just to give me my sword. You can just drop it on the ground and any other valuables you might have brought with you. My men would appreciate any gold or silver you could spare.”

The man signed, “I do not want to bother killing you, it has been a long road and I have further to go before I am done. Leave and you and your men can go back to haunting Duke Pascal’s lands.”

Tired of pointless conversation with this overconfident fool Noel moved his fingers to order his crossbowmen to fire.

Erec sprang forward into a roll before he heard the twang of the crossbow bolts loose. The bolts thudded harmlessly where he had been crouching on the balls of his feet. He had heard these men approaching his fire with the grace of elephants. They seemed to have stepped on every twig in their path.

Erec had made himself ready and closed his eyes to preserve his night vision against the fire that he had made. He was not sure why the bandit had bothered talking but it had given Erec time to fix the position of everyman in his mind by the sound of their breathing and scuffling feet.

Erec came up from his roll bringing Hope’s edge with him. His sword cleaved through the leg of the man who had addressed him. The outlaw’s flesh and bone parted in a clean cut. Severing his left leg.

Erec left him to bleed out as he did not have time to finish the man off. His companions had recovered from their daze and were now charging Erec. There was no practiced strategy to their attack and Erec effortlessly wove through them, dealing death and injury wherever he went.

Erec deflected one man’s sword away from his body and into the neck of another bandit. The rusty blade still hand enough edge to tear through the man’s neck and send him to a gurgling death.

Seven of the eight swordsmen had been maimed or killed by the time the crossbowmen reloaded. Erec ducked behind the last man using his sword to parry a wild overhead blow. The crossbowmen loosed their bolts in a panic and shot their own companion through the chest.

Erec spirited at the closest of the crossbowmen and hacked him down before the man could think to draw his short sword in defence. The last remaining bandit dropped his bow and sprinted downhill and south along the road in an attempt to flee.

Erec picked up the crossbow at his feet and calmly reloaded it. He took aim and fired at the fleeing man. The borrowed bolt took that last bandit in the neck. It passed straight through and an explosion of blood clouded in front of his face as he fell.

Erec sighed as he went around the massacre ending the lives of those who had yet to die of blood loss. It had been too easy. Killing people should never feel this effortless.

The sun was rising as Erec finished looting and burning the bodies. A great billowing cloud of smoke rose from the escarpment. It could be seen down in Cardell if anyone bothered to look north.

Erec was pleasantly surprised to find that the bandits, between their persons and hideout, had had a relatively large amount of coin. They must have been prolific thieves and highwaymen.

At least now he did not have to waste time earning money for passage south on a river boat. He also needed to send the promised wood north to Wishborne.

It was a long but pleasant hike to Cardell. It was a rare sunny day in northern Nevares. About halfway down the valley shrubs gave way to a heavily wooded forest. The trees were not tall, but they were old and well-watered.

The road began to run parallel to a stream as the land flattened out. As Erec approached the north of Cardell he heard the sound of axes busily at work. There were several logging camps that harvested from the forest.

Erec managed to convince one of the foremen to send a few wagonloads of wood north to Wishborne. The man seemed doubtful that there was anyone living that far north. It took a few hours of negotiation and double the regular price, but Erec eventually sent a man back up the valley with enough wood for Wishborne to make spears, bows and a gate for the wall he had advised them to build.

Cardell was a sprawling city without any walls. This far west the city had never found itself embroiled in one of the border wars. For the most part, the only threats that Duke Pascal had to deal with were bandits. Nevares did not allow for private wars of conquest between nobles as the Empire did.

Given its easy access to the river Cardell would have been ideally located to become a trade hub, if not for the lack of industry in the surrounding counties. As it was, the largest industry of the city was the sale of lumber down the river.

It also serviced the various farming communities that sprawled across the rest of the duke’s land.

Erec was surprised at the lack of security in the city. There were no regular patrols of guard, nor was he challenged when he entered the city from the north. There was a surprising lack of military presence in the city overall. That annoyed him. Erec found that he was increasingly annoyed by things that were done improperly.

The unnecessary squalor of the city irked him. The badly made cloths, weapons, and armour he saw on his way to the docks had him seething.

He was starting to feel cursed. When you knew that everyone around you was doing a terrible job and you could do everything far better, a low-level irritation set in. He finally snapped when he saw a ship that was clearly smuggling.

They were doing it so blatantly. The Leatusian tabaco they were sneaking into the city was clearly visible under a thin layer of apples. Erec even saw them bribing the harbour master in plain sight.

He decided that this would be his ride south. He made his way back to the forest to wait for nightfall. By the looks of it, the smuggling crew were going to be offloading until then.

While he waited, he whittled himself a mask using a cut-off he took from one of the lumber camps. It was a rare dark wood almost black. He doubted that the lumber workers had known or cared what they were cutting down.

Erec had also purchased some sandpaper and varnish. By the time he had finished the sun was setting. The mask he had created was perfect for his needs. It was a simple smooth mask with eyeholes and a mouth. The dark wood and fine crafting gave it an ominous air. For effect he had carved a few tears falling from the left eye.

The smuggler's river boat was still at the dock. They were making ready to cast off. Erec slinked unobserved to the rear of the vessel. He stretched across from the dock and with the tips of his fingers grabbed onto the windowsill. If a proper watch was being kept, he would have been seen but the smugglers where not even bothering to maintain a look out.

Their casual attitude to criminality spoke to something being fundamentally wrong in this dutchy. There was no way Duke Pascal could be unaware of this blatant flaunting of the kingdom’s laws. The ban on Leatusian tobacco was nonsensical from an economic standpoint but still if one had a law then to not enforce it undermined the authority of the king and the nobility.

Erec swung himself up by the fingertips until he was perched on the ship. He pried the window open with a knife. The cabin was empty and dark on the inside. Erec settled himself into a chair in the corner of the room. It was positioned such that one would not notice anyone sitting in it when they walked through the door. Erec then made himself perfectly still and waited.

Soon the boat cast off from the Cardell docks. Erec heard the sound of approaching boots and a conversation increasing in volume. The door opened and the conversation became audible.

“… gets easier every time we come north. The duke must be preoccupied with something,” finished a man Erec assumed to be the captain.

A second man came through the door as he replied, “I heard that the duke is not even in the duchy. He is down south in the capital. Our friends down that way want us to move extra goods with our next trip. Make hay while the sun shines, I say.”

Erec was amazed at the mens' lack of situational awareness. They had yet to notice him.

Adopting an Empire accent Erec loudly cleared his throat and began, “good evening gentlemen.”

The men jumped in shock and whirled towards him. The captain made a grab for the short sword at his waist. Erec threw a dagger at the man and pinned his hand to his desk. The captain made a guttural scream.

“Now, there is no need for that,” said Erec with a wag of his finger. These men and their operation were far too disappointing. He would whip them into shape. Besides having a few criminal contacts would help him gather information when he reached Stormbreaker.