Chapter 25
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Chapter 25
Akanai was in good spirits. An easy engagement, to toughen the cadets. If only every first battle was like this, a slow tempering, rather than straight into the crucible. There had been no casualties, minor injuries except for one bad leg injury. Tokta had fixed that without issue. A good training fight. Difficult to plan a better one.
The caravan moved out after clearing the road of the dead. The surviving bandits had been bound, to be brought with them to Shen Huo. The badly injured bandits had been offered two choices: to die by the side of the road, or a dagger to the heart. The dead would feed the scavengers. They traveled until dusk, making good time after the skirmish. The cadets had been well-trained, good stock. She nodded to herself. Of course they had been well trained. Their basics had been taught by Alsantset, then refined by Tokta.
She sat on a log around her campfire, her arm around her husband. She had grudgingly allowed fires to be lit. While they had repelled the earlier attack, there was always the chance the bandits would regroup and attack again, but the cadets needed the light, to regain their calm. They would have to rely on the sentries to give fair warning in case of an attack. Whether that was likely depended on how loyal the bandits were. The idiot in the wolf pelt was their leader, Zhong Shan. An unpleasant fellow, screaming of death and retribution until she had him gagged and beaten.
The boy sat silently, tending the fire. He had cooked for them, a delicious stew, with some travel bread. His cooking was better than expected. She watched him poke at the fire, with no purpose, lost in his own thoughts. Not the most sociable boy, but she could relate. Sumila was off with her friends in the cadets. She wasn't a cadet herself, but she had many friends.
Boy. You seem pensive. What are your thoughts? Her husband, always striking up conversations.
The boy looked up and smiled. Nothing in particular.
First time killing? Akanai spoke, somewhat harsher than intended. She had no patience for soft-hearted fools.
The boys eyes hardened. There's that fire in him. No. Ah, of course. It had slipped her mind. I was just wondering why the bandits attacked. Their ambush had clearly failed. They just walked towards a heavily armed group with no plan at all. Even if we didn't fight, we are all mounted. They couldn't have caught us if we ran. It was idiotic.
Husolt laughed at the boy's question. Of course it seems that way to you, boy. But think of it from their perspective. 50 guards, with women and children at their back, staring at almost 400 bandits. They thought we'd be pissing our pants just from the numbers, ambush or no. Either we stand and die, or we run and they try again another day. Not the brightest bunch.
The boy frowned. But they had to have seen we were well armed, and every guard carried a bow. Why just present themselves for target practice?
Akanai shook her head. The boy was ignorant. They did not know they were within range. To them, we appear to be carrying short bows, with a range of less than 150 meters. Even if we shot a few dead, that just means more food for the rest. Life is cheap out here. She held her bow up for the boy to see. Our bows are a the result of countless generations of research and experimentation, made with some of the best materials available in the Empire. A standard bow, like the one you wield, is made of five materials, each from a different source, and would fetch ten gold coins at market if ever sold. That's enough to see a peasant family fed in the city for a year, if they're careful. The boy's eyes lit up. He better not sell his bow. A greedy little rascal. A bow like mine, custom-made for the user with top quality materials, to craft such a bow, a noble could expect to pay a minimum of 200 gold easily, not including the cost of materials. Even if we were to sell them, not many would be able to wield them. Perhaps 1 in 10 of the population of the empire would be capable.
I see. Very impressive. The boy sat in quiet contemplation a moment, before finally asking,What happens to the survivors?
The prisoners, Akanai corrected, will be brought before the magistrate in Shen Huo city, and enslaved or executed. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf idiot has a bounty on his head. To gather close to 400 bandits is an impressive feat.
The boy sighed, a mournful look upon his face. Akanai was beginning to get annoyed. Enough of your pity. Those worthless mongrels asked for death, and we obliged them.
The boy looked at her in surprise, before it turned to anger. He took a breath and stood. The deaths are a shame, but they brought that on themselves. I mourn the survivors. It would be a mercy to cut their throats, instead of sending them to be slaves. He brushed himself off, and said his goodbyes, claiming need to rise early for the watch.
Boy. He turned back to her. You speak as if there is a choice. Out here, the strong rule, and the weak serve. They are weak, and refused to serve. So now we must force them. Cutting their throats serves no purpose. It is not as soft as it is back in the village. Akanai dismissed him with a wave. Too much empathy, too soft at times. Maddening.
Better to die free than to live a slave. The boy stalked off.
Akanai snorted. And a romantic. Where there is life, there is hope. Better to live a slave, than die a fool. Of all people, she had thought the boy would have learned that simple concept. Her words gave him pause, but only a half step. He continued on his way. A sad young man, with a haunted past, Akanai pitied him. A sad life for Mila, if her husband fell to his anger, or despair. Her eyes narrowed at that thought. Perhaps she should dissuade her from the boy. That might only push her towards him more though. She sighed deeply, troubled by her dilemma.
Her husband kissed her on the temple. Let it be, Old Wife. He's a good lad. The children will make their own decisions. Little Mila might not even like him.
The disarmed bandit tackles, lifting me off the ground. Well fuck. That was unexpected.
My arms are pinned against me as I'm lifted and slammed into the dirt. My feet stay under me, just barely. Can't let him bring me to the ground. Wildly poking at him with the sword, trying to get him off me, he screams and slam me down again, jolting the sword out of my hand.
His friend shouts for him to stay down, and moves to kill me. His sword swings down.
All I can do.
Falling backwards into a roll, I lift my tackler with my knees.
The sword thuds into him and he finally lets go, howling. Pushing him off me, I hop to my feet and turn to the last bandit. Focus. Blocking strike after strike, a chunk of my shield flies off, the sword cutting into my shoulder. My arm drops down, hanging uselessly.
I fumble for an arrow, pointing it at the last bandit. Better than nothing. I try to give him my best glare, hoping he just drops dead.
He yells and charges. Why charge? Just swing from out of my range, dumb ass. Stepping forward, the sword whistles past, and I jam my arrow into his side. He tenses up, and I stab him again, and again, as he stares into my eyes. Clear green eyes. I can't stop. His anger slowly turns to fear with each progressive stab. The arrow finally breaks, snapping off inside him. He falls down, dead or dying. Everything sounds the same when dying.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Lucky. Too much luck. I need to get stronger.
The tackling bandit tries to stand up, but my right hook crashes into his jaw, and he goes down for the count. K.O. You son of a bitch.
Pushing himself up, the bandit struggles up on all fours. Kicking an arm out from under him, I stomp again, and again, until he stops moving. I said K. Fucking. O. Just stay down.
My breath comes in pants, hands shaking while I check to see if anyone needs help. The stabbed bandit is still gasping, struggling for life. I end it with my sword, and watch the light fade from his eyes. Why do I keep staring at his eyes? The fight seems pretty much over. There weren't that many bandits. I guess they were banking on stealth. Stupid fucking plan. The survivors are being disarmed, soon to join the prisoners we already have. I don't see any guards down, so that's good.
I look back down at the living bandit. His wounds aren't enough to kill him. Should I kill him too? Save him from slavery?
Standing there for what seems like forever, my mind is blank. I'm just waiting for an answer to pop into my head.
He isn't going to get up any time soon. I have time to decide.
I grab my sword and walk over to my other kill. A young guy, maybe 20, healthy. Not the most handsome guy around, but no unsightly birthmarks or deformities. He could have been a farmer, or a porter, or a deckhand, or any number of legitimate jobs. Instead he chose to be a bandit, and had to make me kill him and his friend. Dumb ass. Making me murder you both. That look of surprise when he realized he was dead. The fear in his friend's green eyes. Lazy fuckers, should have just gotten a fucking job instead. Fuck.
Plucking my spear from his chest takes effort, and it comes out with a sickening slurp. A shudder rips through my body.
I really should have just stayed in the village. I'm not cut out for this shit.
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Chapter 25
Akanai was in good spirits. An easy engagement, to toughen the cadets. If only every first battle was like this, a slow tempering, rather than straight into the crucible. There had been no casualties, minor injuries except for one bad leg injury. Tokta had fixed that without issue. A good training fight. Difficult to plan a better one.
The caravan moved out after clearing the road of the dead. The surviving bandits had been bound, to be brought with them to Shen Huo. The badly injured bandits had been offered two choices: to die by the side of the road, or a dagger to the heart. The dead would feed the scavengers. They traveled until dusk, making good time after the skirmish. The cadets had been well-trained, good stock. She nodded to herself. Of course they had been well trained. Their basics had been taught by Alsantset, then refined by Tokta.
She sat on a log around her campfire, her arm around her husband. She had grudgingly allowed fires to be lit. While they had repelled the earlier attack, there was always the chance the bandits would regroup and attack again, but the cadets needed the light, to regain their calm. They would have to rely on the sentries to give fair warning in case of an attack. Whether that was likely depended on how loyal the bandits were. The idiot in the wolf pelt was their leader, Zhong Shan. An unpleasant fellow, screaming of death and retribution until she had him gagged and beaten.
The boy sat silently, tending the fire. He had cooked for them, a delicious stew, with some travel bread. His cooking was better than expected. She watched him poke at the fire, with no purpose, lost in his own thoughts. Not the most sociable boy, but she could relate. Sumila was off with her friends in the cadets. She wasn't a cadet herself, but she had many friends.
Boy. You seem pensive. What are your thoughts? Her husband, always striking up conversations.
The boy looked up and smiled. Nothing in particular.
First time killing? Akanai spoke, somewhat harsher than intended. She had no patience for soft-hearted fools.
The boys eyes hardened. There's that fire in him. No. Ah, of course. It had slipped her mind. I was just wondering why the bandits attacked. Their ambush had clearly failed. They just walked towards a heavily armed group with no plan at all. Even if we didn't fight, we are all mounted. They couldn't have caught us if we ran. It was idiotic.
Husolt laughed at the boy's question. Of course it seems that way to you, boy. But think of it from their perspective. 50 guards, with women and children at their back, staring at almost 400 bandits. They thought we'd be pissing our pants just from the numbers, ambush or no. Either we stand and die, or we run and they try again another day. Not the brightest bunch.
The boy frowned. But they had to have seen we were well armed, and every guard carried a bow. Why just present themselves for target practice?
Akanai shook her head. The boy was ignorant. They did not know they were within range. To them, we appear to be carrying short bows, with a range of less than 150 meters. Even if we shot a few dead, that just means more food for the rest. Life is cheap out here. She held her bow up for the boy to see. Our bows are a the result of countless generations of research and experimentation, made with some of the best materials available in the Empire. A standard bow, like the one you wield, is made of five materials, each from a different source, and would fetch ten gold coins at market if ever sold. That's enough to see a peasant family fed in the city for a year, if they're careful. The boy's eyes lit up. He better not sell his bow. A greedy little rascal. A bow like mine, custom-made for the user with top quality materials, to craft such a bow, a noble could expect to pay a minimum of 200 gold easily, not including the cost of materials. Even if we were to sell them, not many would be able to wield them. Perhaps 1 in 10 of the population of the empire would be capable.
I see. Very impressive. The boy sat in quiet contemplation a moment, before finally asking,What happens to the survivors?
The prisoners, Akanai corrected, will be brought before the magistrate in Shen Huo city, and enslaved or executed. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf idiot has a bounty on his head. To gather close to 400 bandits is an impressive feat.
The boy sighed, a mournful look upon his face. Akanai was beginning to get annoyed. Enough of your pity. Those worthless mongrels asked for death, and we obliged them.
The boy looked at her in surprise, before it turned to anger. He took a breath and stood. The deaths are a shame, but they brought that on themselves. I mourn the survivors. It would be a mercy to cut their throats, instead of sending them to be slaves. He brushed himself off, and said his goodbyes, claiming need to rise early for the watch.
Boy. He turned back to her. You speak as if there is a choice. Out here, the strong rule, and the weak serve. They are weak, and refused to serve. So now we must force them. Cutting their throats serves no purpose. It is not as soft as it is back in the village. Akanai dismissed him with a wave. Too much empathy, too soft at times. Maddening.
Better to die free than to live a slave. The boy stalked off.
Akanai snorted. And a romantic. Where there is life, there is hope. Better to live a slave, than die a fool. Of all people, she had thought the boy would have learned that simple concept. Her words gave him pause, but only a half step. He continued on his way. A sad young man, with a haunted past, Akanai pitied him. A sad life for Mila, if her husband fell to his anger, or despair. Her eyes narrowed at that thought. Perhaps she should dissuade her from the boy. That might only push her towards him more though. She sighed deeply, troubled by her dilemma.
Her husband kissed her on the temple. Let it be, Old Wife. He's a good lad. The children will make their own decisions. Little Mila might not even like him.
The disarmed bandit tackles, lifting me off the ground. Well fuck. That was unexpected.
My arms are pinned against me as I'm lifted and slammed into the dirt. My feet stay under me, just barely. Can't let him bring me to the ground. Wildly poking at him with the sword, trying to get him off me, he screams and slam me down again, jolting the sword out of my hand.
His friend shouts for him to stay down, and moves to kill me. His sword swings down.
All I can do.
Falling backwards into a roll, I lift my tackler with my knees.
The sword thuds into him and he finally lets go, howling. Pushing him off me, I hop to my feet and turn to the last bandit. Focus. Blocking strike after strike, a chunk of my shield flies off, the sword cutting into my shoulder. My arm drops down, hanging uselessly.
I fumble for an arrow, pointing it at the last bandit. Better than nothing. I try to give him my best glare, hoping he just drops dead.
He yells and charges. Why charge? Just swing from out of my range, dumb ass. Stepping forward, the sword whistles past, and I jam my arrow into his side. He tenses up, and I stab him again, and again, as he stares into my eyes. Clear green eyes. I can't stop. His anger slowly turns to fear with each progressive stab. The arrow finally breaks, snapping off inside him. He falls down, dead or dying. Everything sounds the same when dying.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Lucky. Too much luck. I need to get stronger.
The tackling bandit tries to stand up, but my right hook crashes into his jaw, and he goes down for the count. K.O. You son of a bitch.
Pushing himself up, the bandit struggles up on all fours. Kicking an arm out from under him, I stomp again, and again, until he stops moving. I said K. Fucking. O. Just stay down.
My breath comes in pants, hands shaking while I check to see if anyone needs help. The stabbed bandit is still gasping, struggling for life. I end it with my sword, and watch the light fade from his eyes. Why do I keep staring at his eyes? The fight seems pretty much over. There weren't that many bandits. I guess they were banking on stealth. Stupid fucking plan. The survivors are being disarmed, soon to join the prisoners we already have. I don't see any guards down, so that's good.
I look back down at the living bandit. His wounds aren't enough to kill him. Should I kill him too? Save him from slavery?
Standing there for what seems like forever, my mind is blank. I'm just waiting for an answer to pop into my head.
He isn't going to get up any time soon. I have time to decide.
I grab my sword and walk over to my other kill. A young guy, maybe 20, healthy. Not the most handsome guy around, but no unsightly birthmarks or deformities. He could have been a farmer, or a porter, or a deckhand, or any number of legitimate jobs. Instead he chose to be a bandit, and had to make me kill him and his friend. Dumb ass. Making me murder you both. That look of surprise when he realized he was dead. The fear in his friend's green eyes. Lazy fuckers, should have just gotten a fucking job instead. Fuck.
Plucking my spear from his chest takes effort, and it comes out with a sickening slurp. A shudder rips through my body.
I really should have just stayed in the village. I'm not cut out for this shit.
Chapter 25Akanai was in good spirits. An easy engagement, to toughen the cadets. If only every first battle was like this, a slow tempering, rather than straight into the crucible. There had been no casualties, minor injuries except for one bad leg injury. Tokta had fixed that without issue. A good training fight. Difficult to plan a better one. The caravan moved out after clearing the road of the dead. The surviving bandits had been bound, to be brought with them to Shen Huo. The badly injured bandits had been offered two choices: to die by the side of the road, or a dagger to the heart. The dead would feed the scavengers. They traveled until dusk, making good time after the skirmish. The cadets had been well-trained, good stock. She nodded to herself. Of course they had been well trained. Their basics had been taught by Alsantset, then refined by Tokta. She sat on a log around her campfire, her arm around her husband. She had grudgingly allowed fires to be lit. While they had repelled the earlier attack, there was always the chance the bandits would regroup and attack again, but the cadets needed the light, to regain their calm. They would have to rely on the sentries to give fair warning in case of an attack. Whether that was likely depended on how loyal the bandits were. The idiot in the wolf pelt was their leader, Zhong Shan. An unpleasant fellow, screaming of death and retribution until she had him gagged and beaten. The boy sat silently, tending the fire. He had cooked for them, a delicious stew, with some travel bread. His cooking was better than expected. She watched him poke at the fire, with no purpose, lost in his own thoughts. Not the most sociable boy, but she could relate. Sumila was off with her friends in the cadets. She wasn't a cadet herself, but she had many friends. Boy. You seem pensive. What are your thoughts? Her husband, always striking up conversations. The boy looked up and smiled. Nothing in particular. First time killing? Akanai spoke, somewhat harsher than intended. She had no patience for soft-hearted fools. The boys eyes hardened. There's that fire in him. No. Ah, of course. It had slipped her mind. I was just wondering why the bandits attacked. Their ambush had clearly failed. They just walked towards a heavily armed group with no plan at all. Even if we didn't fight, we are all mounted. They couldn't have caught us if we ran. It was idiotic. Husolt laughed at the boy's question. Of course it seems that way to you, boy. But think of it from their perspective. 50 guards, with women and children at their back, staring at almost 400 bandits. They thought we'd be pissing our pants just from the numbers, ambush or no. Either we stand and die, or we run and they try again another day. Not the brightest bunch. The boy frowned. But they had to have seen we were well armed, and every guard carried a bow. Why just present themselves for target practice?Akanai shook her head. The boy was ignorant. They did not know they were within range. To them, we appear to be carrying short bows, with a range of less than 150 meters. Even if we shot a few dead, that just means more food for the rest. Life is cheap out here. She held her bow up for the boy to see. Our bows are a the result of countless generations of research and experimentation, made with some of the best materials available in the Empire. A standard bow, like the one you wield, is made of five materials, each from a different source, and would fetch ten gold coins at market if ever sold. That's enough to see a peasant family fed in the city for a year, if they're careful. The boy's eyes lit up. He better not sell his bow. A greedy little rascal. A bow like mine, custom-made for the user with top quality materials, to craft such a bow, a noble could expect to pay a minimum of 200 gold easily, not including the cost of materials. Even if we were to sell them, not many would be able to wield them. Perhaps 1 in 10 of the population of the empire would be capable. I see. Very impressive. The boy sat in quiet contemplation a moment, before finally asking,What happens to the survivors? The prisoners, Akanai corrected, will be brought before the magistrate in Shen Huo city, and enslaved or executed. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf idiot has a bounty on his head. To gather close to 400 bandits is an impressive feat. The boy sighed, a mournful look upon his face. Akanai was beginning to get annoyed. Enough of your pity. Those worthless mongrels asked for death, and we obliged them. The boy looked at her in surprise, before it turned to anger. He took a breath and stood. The deaths are a shame, but they brought that on themselves. I mourn the survivors. It would be a mercy to cut their throats, instead of sending them to be slaves. He brushed himself off, and said his goodbyes, claiming need to rise early for the watch. Boy. He turned back to her. You speak as if there is a choice. Out here, the strong rule, and the weak serve. They are weak, and refused to serve. So now we must force them. Cutting their throats serves no purpose. It is not as soft as it is back in the village. Akanai dismissed him with a wave. Too much empathy, too soft at times. Maddening. Better to die free than to live a slave. The boy stalked off. Akanai snorted. And a romantic. Where there is life, there is hope. Better to live a slave, than die a fool. Of all people, she had thought the boy would have learned that simple concept. Her words gave him pause, but only a half step. He continued on his way. A sad young man, with a haunted past, Akanai pitied him. A sad life for Mila, if her husband fell to his anger, or despair. Her eyes narrowed at that thought. Perhaps she should dissuade her from the boy. That might only push her towards him more though. She sighed deeply, troubled by her dilemma. Her husband kissed her on the temple. Let it be, Old Wife. He's a good lad. The children will make their own decisions. Little Mila might not even like him. The disarmed bandit tackles, lifting me off the ground. Well fuck. That was unexpected. My arms are pinned against me as I'm lifted and slammed into the dirt. My feet stay under me, just barely. Can't let him bring me to the ground. Wildly poking at him with the sword, trying to get him off me, he screams and slam me down again, jolting the sword out of my hand. His friend shouts for him to stay down, and moves to kill me. His sword swings down. All I can do. Falling backwards into a roll, I lift my tackler with my knees. The sword thuds into him and he finally lets go, howling. Pushing him off me, I hop to my feet and turn to the last bandit. Focus. Blocking strike after strike, a chunk of my shield flies off, the sword cutting into my shoulder. My arm drops down, hanging uselessly. I fumble for an arrow, pointing it at the last bandit. Better than nothing. I try to give him my best glare, hoping he just drops dead. He yells and charges. Why charge? Just swing from out of my range, dumb ass. Stepping forward, the sword whistles past, and I jam my arrow into his side. He tenses up, and I stab him again, and again, as he stares into my eyes. Clear green eyes. I can't stop. His anger slowly turns to fear with each progressive stab. The arrow finally breaks, snapping off inside him. He falls down, dead or dying. Everything sounds the same when dying. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Lucky. Too much luck. I need to get stronger. The tackling bandit tries to stand up, but my right hook crashes into his jaw, and he goes down for the count. K.O. You son of a bitch. Pushing himself up, the bandit struggles up on all fours. Kicking an arm out from under him, I stomp again, and again, until he stops moving. I said K. Fucking. O. Just stay down. My breath comes in pants, hands shaking while I check to see if anyone needs help. The stabbed bandit is still gasping, struggling for life. I end it with my sword, and watch the light fade from his eyes. Why do I keep staring at his eyes? The fight seems pretty much over. There weren't that many bandits. I guess they were banking on stealth. Stupid fucking plan. The survivors are being disarmed, soon to join the prisoners we already have. I don't see any guards down, so that's good. I look back down at the living bandit. His wounds aren't enough to kill him. Should I kill him too? Save him from slavery?Standing there for what seems like forever, my mind is blank. I'm just waiting for an answer to pop into my head. He isn't going to get up any time soon. I have time to decide. I grab my sword and walk over to my other kill. A young guy, maybe 20, healthy. Not the most handsome guy around, but no unsightly birthmarks or deformities. He could have been a farmer, or a porter, or a deckhand, or any number of legitimate jobs. Instead he chose to be a bandit, and had to make me kill him and his friend. Dumb ass. Making me murder you both. That look of surprise when he realized he was dead. The fear in his friend's green eyes. Lazy fuckers, should have just gotten a fucking job instead. Fuck. Plucking my spear from his chest takes effort, and it comes out with a sickening slurp. A shudder rips through my body. I really should have just stayed in the village. I'm not cut out for this shit.
