The air in Westmont was calm, the quiet of the night punctuated only by the distant sounds of hammers and saws from ongoing construction that continued even into the night.
Damien and Arielle sat in the dimly lit kitchen of the Mercenary Guild building, sharing a moment of peace.
“And then, this particular one gropes the lady from behind making her moan instead of shout…” Arielle was recounting old tales of bandit raids from her childhood, weaving humor and caution into the stories.
Damien leaned back in his chair, half-listening as his eyes flickered toward the window. He had spent enough time in dangerous places to recognize when something didn’t feel right.
“You’re not listening, are you?” Arielle asked, catching his distracted expression.
“Not entirely,” Damien admitted, his tone light. “Something feels… off.”
Before Arielle could respond, a loud knock echoed through the building.
Knock! Knock!!
The sudden noise broke the calm, and both of them tensed.
“I’ll check,” Arielle offered, but Damien was already on his feet.
“Stay here,” he said, his hands tucked inside his pockets.
Damien moved to the door cautiously, cracking it open just enough to see a young boy standing on the other side.
The child couldn’t have been older than ten, his clothes torn and dirt smudged across his face. His wide, fearful eyes darted toward the darkness behind him.
“Please… help me,” the boy stammered, his voice trembling.
“What happened?” Damien asked, scanning the area beyond the boy.
“They’re after me,” the boy said, glancing back nervously. “A group of men… they killed my family. I ran, but they’re coming.”
Arielle appeared behind Damien, her brows furrowed. “Who’s coming?”
“Bandits,” the boy whispered.
Damien’s jaw tightened. He stepped outside, keeping the boy close. “Where did you come from?”
“A farm, just outside the town,” the boy answered. “I-I don’t know how far I ran… Please, they’re going to kill me.”
Arielle knelt to the boy’s level, her voice soft and reassuring. “You’re safe now. We’ll protect you.”
But Damien wasn’t convinced. Something about the boy’s story didn’t add up. He glanced at Arielle, catching her gaze. “Let’s check the gate. If there are bandits nearby, we need to know.”
~~~~~
The gate of Westmont was dimly lit by a pair of flickering lanterns. As Damien, Arielle, and the boy approached, the hairs on the back of Damien’s neck stood on end.
“You’re sure you didn’t see how many there were?” Damien asked the boy, his tone sharp but calm.
The boy shook his head. “I was too scared to look back.”
Arielle glanced over her shoulder. “If there are bandits nearby, the guards should’ve seen something.” Find more chapters on empire
Damien nodded, but before he could respond, the boy suddenly bolted forward. He stopped a few feet ahead of them, turning to face the darkness outside the gate.
“Here!” the boy shouted, his voice loud and clear.
Both Damien and Arielle froze.
“What—” Arielle began, but her words were cut off as shadows emerged from the night.
A group of figures stepped into the light, their faces obscured by masks and hoods. There were at least a dozen of them, each armed with swords, clubs, and daggers.
The largest among them, a towering man with a thick beard, chuckled as he approached.
“Well, well,” the man said, his voice gravelly. “Looks like the bait worked.”
The boy scurried to the man’s side, his fearful demeanor replaced with a shy smile.
“Good job, kid,” the bandit leader said, patting the boy’s head.
Damien’s hand finally moved to his sword, his eyes narrowing. “You used a child as bait? Classy.”
The leader shrugged. “You’d be surprised how well it works. Now, why don’t you and the lady hand over your valuables, and we’ll let you walk away? Maybe.”
Arielle stepped closer to Damien, her eyes darting between the bandits. “Twelve of them,” she murmured.
“Four for each of us,” Damien replied, his tone casual despite the tension.
The leader laughed. “Oh, you think you can take us? That’s cute.”
Damien didn’t bother responding. Instead, he pulled his palms into fists in front of his face in a single fluid motion, the movement the light of the lanterns. The bandits hesitated for a moment, their confidence wavering.
“Last chance,” Damien said, his voice low and dangerous. “Turn around and leave, or this gets ugly.”
The leader sneered. “Get them!”
The bandits rushed forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Damien moved first, stepping into the fray with practiced ease.
His hands swung through the air, parrying an incoming strike before pressing firmly onto a bandit’s chest. The man crumpled to the ground with a pained groan.
Arielle wasn’t far behind. She raised her hands, casting a shimmering barrier of light that blocked an attack from a bandit wielding a club.
With a flick of her wrist, the barrier expanded, forcing the bandit backward and knocking him off his feet.
Another bandit lunged at her from the side, but Arielle sidestepped gracefully, slamming her knee into his stomach before grabbing his arm and twisting it.
The bandit yelped in pain as she disarmed him, tossing his dagger aside.
“Three left,” she muttered, scanning for her next target.
Damien, meanwhile, moved like a whirlwind. His fist struck with precision, each blow calculated to disarm or incapacitate.
A bandit came at him with a raised sword, but Damien ducked under the attack, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs before slashing upward.
The bandits began to falter, their confidence eroded by the duo’s skill. The leader, however, stood back, watching with a growing scowl.
“Idiots,” he growled. “Can’t even handle two people.”
He drew a massive axe from his back, the weapon gleaming ominously. “Guess I’ll have to do it myself.”
The leader charged at Damien, his heavy footsteps echoing across the cobblestones. Damien turned just in time to dodge the incoming swing.
Boom!
It slammed into the ground.
“You’re a big one,” Damien said with a playful smirk.
The leader grinned, pushing harder. “And you’re dead.”
But Damien wasn’t alone. Arielle appeared at the leader’s side, slamming a glowing fist into his ribs. The impact made the leader stumble, and Damien took the opportunity to shove him back.
The leader roared in frustration, swinging his axe in a wide arc. Arielle ducked, while Damien stepped inside the swing, driving a heavy blow into the man’s shoulder.
The leader howled in pain, dropping his axe as he fell to his knees.
“Yield,” Damien ordered, his fingers pointed at the man’s throat.