The Wanders 1: Priceless

Epilogue

A few miles east of Alenwell, beyond groves and gullies, lay a cabin of unscrupulous purposes. Usually it was meant to hide away stolen property or kidnapped people, but now its contraband was the bandits themselves. Thirty to forty strong held out here for the past week.

The death of Korse wasn't much trouble in itself. Bandits died all the time, and a vacant leadership only invited new blood. However, Korse's warning held fast in the hearts of these criminals. Something big was snuffing out the local gangs, picking off the weak to move in, and this gang just proved weaker than a family of merchants.

Their plan was to hide out here and let the new bandits move in, then sweep through Alenwell under cover of night and take care of them. It was a solid idea under the circumstances. Unfortunately for these bandits, that strategy would never come to pass.

Thugs lay dead or bound amongst the trees. The cabin was raided, its stores hollowed out by a force of at least eighty mercenaries in leather armor. Among the captured was a barely alive, badly bleeding bandit leader. His bald head was covered in sweat from thorough beatings, and he was sunk on his knees with a severed hand bound in cloth. Idling before him was a thin fellow in a vest and trousers almost too respectable for a scene like this. His carrot top hair was brought neatly back, and his posture was impeccable while his voice trailed like a fine vioin.

"I understand your employer was a businessman after a fashion. How about we strike a deal."

The bandit struggled to look up at the man, coughing up blood. "Anything."

"Anything?" he hid a smirk, "How generous. The terms are simple: I release you and those left in your company. You can either take up employment with us or move on. In exchange, I want information. You were there when Korse died?"

The bandit shrank back with a weak nod. "Aye. A woman did it. Short and mean. She killed him before we could think to stop her."

The man's ears twitched. He slowly knelt with a glare drilling through the bandit's defeated expression. Between the two, floating in the air, rose a wicked dagger with a blue stone set into the hilt.

A venomous smile overcame the man's composure as his voice slid sharp. "Did her weapon look like this?"

The bandit stared at that blade, shivering before he shrank back.

"Tell me," hissed the man. "What do you know about Ciela Zurri?"