Volume I: Forged

Chapter 17: Sleeping Giant

The hooded figure regarded his visitor with nothing short of contempt.

"You've failed me before. What's to say you won't fail again?"

The visitor shuffled, cloak obscuring most of his physique. "My word."

"Your word is worth about as much as wench's kiss after that last stunt you pulled. Try again."

"This will be my last chance. I know they're there—my source has never been wrong."

A pause.

"How many?"

The visitor grinned, sensing the other's curiosity.

"Roughly two dozen. Almost all are hybrids or mages—young and well-maintained, males and females alike."

The figured adjusted their hood and hummed. "You have the men?"

The visitor bowed his head. "Yes. Just need the money for the wagons, cages, and supplies."

"And you're positive you can take them all?"

"We might lose a few—"

The hooded figure hummed again, this time in disapproval.

"We'll keep it to a minimum."

"I would suggest you make haste. Fail me again, and there will be nowhere you can hide from me."

...

"You're seeing this, right?"

Wilbur nodded, bow tightly gripped in sweat-slicked fingers. "They're headed right for home."

The 'they' in question was a caravan of eight wagons with an extra two dozen men on horses. All were heavily armed, wearing armor and carrying at least two weapons each.

Ant shuffled nervously, making sure Jack was keeping his head down. "Why wouldn't they be on the main road, heading toward the village?"

Wilbur shrugged, though his stance told his brother he wasn't as relaxed as he was trying to portray. "The weapons are bothering me more—those are expensive imports from way up north, meant for war. Definitely not for traveling."

"So we got a small army of psychos armed for battle heading straight for our house like they know it's there?"

"Looks like."

Jack bit his lip and starting snapping his fingers, a trait he had picked up from Sapnap in the two weeks or so he had been with the Minecraft family.

"They could just be nomads, looking for a well or something," Wilbur said, forcing himself to appear calm.

"Again though—why not the main road? And why our house?"

"I don't know, Ant—why don't you go and ask them?!"

"No!!"

"Uh guys—they've seen us—" Jack pointed innocently, Ant and Wilbur whipping around to see a handful of riders heading their way, dust billowing behind their horses' pounding hooves.

Wilbur's eyes widened in recognition at something, then he swore and sheathed his bow. "Get on my back, Ant. Jack, come here."

"You can't carry both of us!" Ant protested as Wilbur unfurled his great grey wings.

"Quit arguing! Get on my back!"

Ant muttered a dire curse but threw his arms around Wilbur's neck. Wilbur ignored him and picked Jack up, making him koala around his chest.

With a mighty thrust of his powerful wings, Wilbur took off.

...

Puffy regarded the caravan leader with a level face, arms crossed against the cold of the outside.