The hideout was tucked deep in the jagged mountains, surrounded by towering cliffs and dense forests that kept it well hidden from any prying eyes. Inside, however, the atmosphere was anything but harsh.
The room was filled with the warmth of crackling fires, the scent of spiced wine, and the soft laughter of women. Luxurious tapestries adorned the stone walls, and a large table was covered in half-empty bottles, scattered food, and discarded clothes.
In the center of it all sat the leader of the bandits, though his name was not spoken immediately. He lounged in a plush chair, his broad shoulders relaxed, a gleaming goblet in one hand, and a woman draped across his lap.
His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his eyes gleamed with self-indulgence as he kissed her, his free hand playing with her hair as he whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.
“You’re too beautiful to resist,” he muttered, his voice a low, rough growl full of charm and confidence. The woman smiled, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as he leaned in for another kiss.
The door to his chambers, heavy and reinforced with iron, suddenly creaked open. The soft laughter died instantly, the pleasant hum of the room replaced with an awkward silence.
The man, still kissing the woman, paused, his lips curling into a snarl of annoyance. He didn’t turn to look at the intruder, his mood visibly souring. “Didn’t I give orders that no one is to enter this room at this time?” he growled, his voice dripping with venom. He shifted slightly, his back still turned to the doorway.
The figure at the door stood calm.
While he knew the consequences of interrupting the leader’s “private time,” it looked like he did not care at all.
“Leader,” the man stammered, bowing his head quickly in a gesture of submission, “I know your orders, and I would never dare disturb you like this… but… Lothar and Loren are dead.”
At those words, the leader froze. His hand, which had been casually running through the woman’s hair, stopped. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t turn around just yet.
“Dead?” His voice was low, almost too calm. “There is no room for such jokes, especially not now.”
“You know I don’t make jokes, Leader.”
The man standing in the doorway, unbothered by Korvan’s growing rage, was none other than Alric, Korvan’s right-hand man. Alric was known for his cold, calculating demeanor, always several steps ahead in the game of banditry. His reputation for devising intricate plans had earned him Korvan’s trust, though many in the group feared him for his devious nature.
He rarely let emotions cloud his judgment, and today was no exception.
Korvan’s fingers twitched, but he hadn’t fully turned to face Alric yet. He spat the name like a curse. “Alric…” His tone was filled with suspicion. “How can you be so sure?”
Alric took a slow, deliberate step forward, his expression as sharp as ever, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. “My men found both of their bodies earlier today after I received no word from Lothar or Loren at this week’s meeting.” He spoke evenly, his gaze never wavering from Korvan’s back. “They were supposed to report in, but they didn’t.”
Korvan’s jaw clenched as Alric continued, his words biting into the growing silence in the room. “I sent scouts to investigate. What they found wasn’t pretty. Lothar and Loren… butchered. Someone went through them and their men like they were nothing.”
The woman, still on Korvan’s lap, slowly began to pull away, sensing the dark shift in the room’s atmosphere. But Korvan’s arm held her firmly in place as he finally turned, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Alric’s face. The dangerous calm had turned to icy anger.
“You’ve seen their bodies?” Korvan asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Alric nodded. “Yes. Their deaths weren’t quick either. Whoever did it they weren’t just strong—they were efficient. Lothar and Loren didn’t stand a chance.”
Korvan’s gaze bore into Alric for a long moment, his mind working through the information. Lothar and Loren were two of his strongest lieutenants, each leading formidable groups. For them to be wiped out so quickly…
“And you didn’t think to mention this sooner?” Korvan asked, his voice deadly quiet, the tension rising with each word.
Alric met Korvan’s glare without flinching. “I wanted to be sure. The bodies were discovered only a few hours ago, and I had to confirm it wasn’t a ploy to lure us out.”
Korvan’s lips twitched, his rage simmering beneath the surface. Alric’s words were always calculated, and Korvan knew his right-hand man didn’t speak carelessly. But to lose both Lothar and Loren in one fell swoop? It stung his pride more than anything.
Korvan finally let go of the woman, who hastily retreated to the far corner of the room, her presence forgotten. His full attention was now on Alric, and the storm brewing behind his eyes was unmistakable.
“Who did it?” Korvan demanded, his fists clenching as the need for revenge burned inside him.
“I don’t know, but it can only be those Rackenshore.”
Korvan’s eyes flared with fury at the mention of the town. Rackenshore had always been a thorn in his side, a seemingly insignificant town that had somehow managed to survive his relentless raids. But for them to hire someone strong enough to take out both Lothar and Loren? That was more than just defiance—it was a direct challenge to his authority.
Without warning, Korvan’s rage exploded. He slammed his fist down onto the handle of his plush chair with such force that the wood splintered beneath his grip. The sound echoed through the chamber, and the woman still perched on his lap flinched, her body trembling in fear.
Korvan’s eyes, now wild with anger, flicked toward her. Her sudden movement only seemed to irritate him further, as though her fear was a reflection of his own humiliation. Without a second thought, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and hurled her to the ground. She hit the cold stone floor with a yelp, scrambling to get as far from him as possible, tears welling in her eyes.
“Useless!” Korvan spat, standing from his chair and towering over the cowering woman. He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he turned his focus back to Alric, his mind entirely consumed by thoughts of revenge.
“Rackenshore…” Korvan growled, pacing now, his hands flexing as though ready to strangle the life out of someone. “They dare to hire someone like that? They think they can stand against me?”
Alric, calm as ever despite Korvan’s outburst, nodded slightly. “It’s the only logical explanation. Rackenshore has been desperate for protection, especially with the recent raids. It seems they’ve pooled their resources to bring in someone capable of dealing with us.”
Korvan’s fists clenched even tighter, his knuckles turning white. “I should have crushed them when I had the chance,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with rage. “Now they think they can fight back? Against me?”
Alric’s cold gaze never wavered. “It appears they’ve hired someone who isn’t just capable. Whoever did this was skilled. Lothar and Loren didn’t stand a chance, meaning we are dealing with more than just some mercenary.”
“Those bastards from the capital!” Korvan roared, his fury intensifying. He slammed his fist into the stone wall, the impact sending a fresh cascade of cracks running through the already damaged surface. “We’ve been paying them, bribing them! They were supposed to inform us if anything like this happened! And now they’re not even doing their job properly?”
Alric, standing with his usual calm demeanor, watched Korvan’s outburst without a flicker of emotion. “Leader,” he said, his voice cool and measured, “I contacted the capital. None of the officials or adventurers we bribed were involved in this. They confirmed no one has been dispatched from the capital to Rackenshore.”
Korvan, mid-step, froze. His eyes narrowed, the rage in them burning hotter. “Then who is this motherfucker?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Alric’s lips curled slightly at the edges, a faint hint of something devious in his expression. “Likely some newly rising nobody,” he replied smoothly. “Someone who thinks they’re a hero, probably. Skilled, yes, but there are still clear signs of a battle. Whoever it was, they weren’t a 4-star.”
Korvan’s face twisted with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Not a 4-star?” he repeated, his voice rising in fury. “You’re telling me that some random 3-star warrior—without a name, without any reputation—took down Lothar and Loren? What the hell were those bastards doing?” His fists trembled, his knuckles cracking under the strain of his clenched fists.
Alric remained calm, though the glint in his eyes grew sharper. “It seems that while this person was skilled, Lothar and Loren underestimated them. And you know how arrogance can lead to one’s downfall.”
Korvan’s rage simmered, but as he glared at Alric, something shifted. He knew Alric well enough to recognize the look on his face—the one he wore when he had a plan brewing, something devious and underhanded. “You’ve got something in mind, don’t you, Alric?” Korvan asked, his voice a little calmer now, though the anger still boiled underneath.
Alric’s small smile widened, though it remained as cold as ever. “Indeed. This individual may be skilled, but they’re not invincible. I’ve already been working on something that will ensure we handle this threat… and make sure Rackenshore never dares to challenge us again.”
Korvan’s interest was piqued. He knew when Alric was plotting something; it usually ended in blood—and results. “So, what’s your plan?”
Alric stepped closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “We need to lure them out. Set a trap. I’ve already begun laying the groundwork. We’ll make them come to us, and when they do…” His eyes gleamed darkly. “We’ll make sure they don’t leave.”
*********
And on tomorrow night, something had happened in the house of Rackenshore Town’s mayor.
“RON! MY SON!”
His voice rambled through the whole mansion.
———————–
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