The camp was shrouded in an oppressive silence. The weak crackle of the fire was the only sound, its feeble light casting long, jagged shadows over the grim faces of the bandits. The usual camaraderie—the rough laughter, the crude jokes—was gone. They had failed.

The caravan had slipped through their fingers, leaving them empty-handed and wounded. Worse still, two of their own lay dead—a price paid in blood during a fight with adventurers guarding the carriages.

The leader paced back and forth near the fire, his boots crunching against dry leaves. His scarred face was tight with barely contained rage, his fists clenching and unclenching. The weight of failure hung over the group like a storm cloud, and his simmering anger only made the air heavier.

He stopped suddenly, his cold eyes sweeping over his crew. "This is a joke," he muttered, his voice low and venomous. "Two dead. And this..." He gestured at the meager pile of goods they’d scavenged. "This is all we have to show for it?"

No one answered. No one dared. The bandits avoided his gaze, shifting uneasily.

The leader’s voice rose, sharp and cutting. "Who the hell brought this kid?"

All eyes turned to the boy sitting silently at the edge of the camp, his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked small, even under the flickering firelight.

A younger bandit stiffened, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. "W-we grabbed him from the caravan, boss," he stammered, trying to explain. "Thought we could... sell him."

The leader’s eyes narrowed dangerously. In a flash, he crossed the distance between them and yanked the bandit up by the collar. "Sell him?" he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Did I say we’re kidnappers now? Did I say we’re slavers?"

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He shoved the young man back, who stumbled and nearly fell. The rest of the group remained frozen, the gravity of their mistake sinking in.

"Do you idiots realize what you’ve done?" the leader hissed, his voice a harsh whisper. "Slavery is illegal in the Arcane Kingdom! If the kingdom gets wind of this—if they find out we’ve taken a child—they’ll send the army after us. And when they catch us, they won’t just kill us. They’ll hang us as a warning to every criminal from here to the Empire!"

The younger bandit swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "We just thought... maybe we could make some money, boss. It’s just a kid."

The leader slammed his fist into a nearby crate, causing the group to flinch. "It’s not about money! It’s about survival! You think we can survive with the kingdom breathing down our necks? You think we can outrun them?"

No one responded.

Bran, one of the older bandits, cleared his throat cautiously. "What do we do now, boss? We can’t just... let the kid live. He could talk."

The leader glared at him, his jaw tightening. "We don’t kill kids," he said sharply. "We’re criminals, but we don’t go that far. Do you understand me?"

The wiry man, always quick with his crooked grin, leaned forward. "What if we sold him to the Empire? Slavery’s legal there. The Arcane Kingdom doesn’t care what happens outside their borders."

The leader turned his gaze to the wiry man, his lips curling into a sneer. "And how exactly do you plan to get him to the Empire? It’s two countries away."

The wiry man didn’t falter. "I know someone. A merchant who sneaks slaves across the border in his shipments. He’s done it before—plenty of times. No one’s ever caught him. He could take the kid, get him to the Empire, and we’d get a good price for him."

The leader’s expression darkened, his brow furrowed. "And what makes you think this merchant won’t betray us the first chance he gets?"

"I trust him," the wiry man replied quickly. "He’s smart, boss. Careful. He won’t mess this up."

The leader fell silent, his mind racing. Trusting an outsider was a risk, but the bandits were desperate. Their coffers were nearly empty, and this disaster had only made things worse.

After a long pause, he exhaled slowly. "It could work," he muttered, his voice low. "And it might help us recover after this failure. But listen to me—if we do this, we do it quietly. No one outside this camp hears a word. Not the kingdom, not the Empire. No one."

The group nodded solemnly, the decision made. It wasn’t ideal, but it was their only way out.

The leader’s voice cut through the heavy silence. "Get the kid ready. And tell the merchant we mean business. If he tries to cross us, we’ll make sure he regrets it."

As the bandits dispersed, the leader lingered near the fire, his gaze fixed on the boy. The child sat quietly, his wide eyes reflecting the flickering flames. The leader’s expression was unreadable, but his thoughts churned.

The boy was both their salvation and their risk. And in this dangerous game, the stakes were higher than ever.