Interlude 3
Somewhere in the forest.
Voices murmur outside my tent.
I step out to find a middle-aged man with a deep scar running across his left cheek standing before me.
What was his name again? Boden, Broden, or something like that?
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
“Boss, Johnny boy has some news.” He gestures toward a visibly excited, nervous kid standing beside him.
After being stared down for a moment, the boy finally finds his voice. “Boss, there’s a caravan passing through the forest route. From the rumors I heard, it’s carrying cargo worth more than two hundred gold coins.” His eyes shine with greed as he mentions the number.
Broden—or whatever his name is—scoffs. “It would be stupid to believe those rumors. They get exaggerated every time they pass from one ear to another.” He pauses, a dark glint entering his eyes. “But still... two hundred coins. If we're lucky, we might find cargo worth more than a hundred.”
A greedy smile spreads across his face, stretching the scar on his cheek.
“Not bad at all, right, boss?”
I simply nod.
Broden has a good head on his shoulders. That's why I let him manage the group in my place. More importantly, I don't have the time or patience to deal with petty squabbles between a bunch of bandits.
“Boys!” Broden roars, turning toward the camp. “A fat sheep is coming straight to our door! Start preparing its welcome!”
More than thirty bandits erupt into raucous laughter, wild greed shining in their eyes.
This crew has around forty people in total. I don't know the exact number. I've never bothered to count.
This is the fourth crew I've led in three years.
Broden is a capable second-in-command. He understands that he's merely a tool I can discard whenever he stops being useful, so he makes himself useful at every opportunity. The previous three crews were either arrested or slaughtered by the pursuers sent from the capital to capture me.
It wasn't that I hated them.
They simply weren't worth saving if it meant risking my own skin.
We set up an ambush along the side of the road, concealed within the thickest brush.
My skill, Danger Sense, is unusually quiet today. Maybe things will actually go according to plan for once.
To be honest, this skill is the sole reason I am hiding out as a bandit, and the only reason I’ve managed to stay alive as a bandit while being hunted by the Capital. When I first became a knight, the skill I awakened was Danger Sense—an ability I considered completely useless at the time. Rather than awakening combat skills like Regeneration, Boost, or Rush that directly increase fighting power, I was cursed with a skill that merely tells me whether I'm in danger.
Even my squad captain decided I was only fit to be a guard knight. My sole duty was overseeing the import of cargo into the capital. I still remember the looks given to me by other knights. The look of pity and ridicule. They said that I was just a dog capable of guarding the gate.
I wanted to repay all that humiliation tenfold. However, the only way to truly do that was by becoming a noble. However, legitimately earning a title required accumulating military merits—something that would take decades of fighting on the front lines, especially for someone without a combat skill.
A person like me had no choice but to find another path: amass enough wealth and connections to either buy a title or marry into a family that would inherit a title.
That was when someone approached me with a deal. They offered a massive sum of coins just to let them smuggle Wraith Ashes into the capital.
At first, I hesitated. Wraith Ashes are a strictly controlled substance, granted only to high-ranking mages with royal privileges. I assumed they were simply selling it on the black market to desperate mages who couldn't secure official permits.
But after letting the shipments pass for a few months, I realized the truth.
Those bastards were selling it to ordinary citizens.
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They intended to unleash a plague in the capital.
They were caught before irreversible damage could be done, but that also made me an accomplice to their crimes.
I fled the capital before the guards could arrest me.
The only reason I made it out alive was Danger Sense. It guided me around every patrol, every gate guard, and every Royal Knight sent to hunt me down.
For three long years, I've evaded them through this skill alone—fleeing at the very first sign of danger and leaving my bandit crews to take the fall.
After all, their deaths are simply one of many unfortunate incidents in this world.
“Boss!” Broden shouts. “They're coming.”
I nod and look up.
Multiple carriages and wagons come into view, moving steadily along the road. Even from this distance, I can make out the mark of the Merchant Guild painted on several of the wagons. There might actually be some truth to the rumors.
I scan the convoy carefully.
A few apprentice knights are traveling alongside it, along with several full-fledged knights. On closer inspection, I spot a few mages as well.
None of them look capable of posing a serious threat to me.
I know that with confidence because Danger Sense remains completely quiet.
I turn my attention back toward my men.
Many of them will probably die today.
Well, as long as I make sure Broden survives, he'll be the one dealing with the mess afterward.
I lean toward Broden and whisper, “On the count of three, fire a volley of arrows at the caravan. Try aiming at those travelling in second and third carriage and don't let anyone move a muscle before then. If you do, I'll rip it out for you.”
Everyone nods nervously and takes their positions, raising their crossbows toward the approaching caravan.
I wait for the right moment.
Just as I'm about to give the order, a voice speaks from right behind me.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
I freeze.
Slowly, I turn around.
A well-dressed man stands behind me, smiling as though we've merely crossed paths by chance.
My Danger Sense explodes.
I don't hesitate. I turn and bolt, not even sparing a single glance for my men.
The last time Danger Sense screamed like this was when I escaped the capital with half the city's guards searching for me. That man is dangerous. No—he's beyond dangerous. He's someone I have zero chance of defeating. The fact that he managed to sneak up on me without triggering my skill says enough.
He came specifically for me.
What are the chances that someone capable of bypassing my Danger Sense would appear during an ordinary bandit raid?
The caravan...
Shit. Was the entire caravan bait?
“Shit... shit... shit!”
I push through the thick brush, running as fast as my legs can carry me. How did he get past my skill? How—
My foot suddenly locks up.
I stumble and stare ahead. The same man sits casually on a large rock right in front of me.
My breath catches in my throat. “How...?”
I look behind me, then back at him. He didn't outrun me. He didn't even move. I did. Somehow, I ran in a circle and ended up right back where I started.
My eyes drop toward the forest floor. My men are scattered across the ground, unconscious. Their chests are still moving—they're alive. For now.
What does he want?
There is no time to think. If I want to survive, I have only one choice left: fight.
I draw my sword and charge.
The man simply smiles.
My feet stop dead. I try to force them forward, but nothing happens. They refuse to obey. A cold dread crawls straight up my spine. I try to swing my sword, but my arm won't budge either. I strain against whatever invisible force is holding me, but my body remains locked in place.
“Hooow...?” my voice trembles.
The man answers calmly, his tone conversational. “It's simple. I took control of the part of your mind responsible for movement.”
My fingers suddenly loosen on their own. The sword slips from my grip and thuds onto the dirt. Then, my arm begins rising toward my own neck.
My heart pounds against my ribs. A rumor I heard years ago while serving in the capital suddenly flashes through my mind—about a mage who could manipulate the minds of others.
My eyes widen in sheer horror. “You're the Cow—”
A sharp crack echoes through the silent forest.
Something heavy drops to the ground.
Inside the moving carriage, William peers out through the small glass window.
“William, why are you looking outside?” Bert asks.
William turns back toward his companion. “I thought I heard something.” He pauses, glancing once more toward the quiet treeline passing them by. “Probably nothing.”
He settles back into his seat. “So What were you talking about?”