ERIC

  It was dawn by the time Eric, Bill and his two sidekicks Derek and Graham reached The Bandit King’s Fortress. Birds had begun their chorus, but it didn’t lift Eric’s spirits. He felt like he was going to collapse from all the walking. Every part of him was stiff, every motion was pain. He winced and looked to where Bill pointed.

  Even through the dense trees he could see the shoddy craftsmanship of the fort. Three-story high wooden poles made up the walls, sharpened to points at the end. Random holes punctuated the fortifications, the largest of which was a gateway at the centre. Dozens of bandits wandered around the base, ostensibly guarding, but mainly napping, chatting or playing cards.

  ‘Here we are, Eric,’ said Bill, ‘Put this bandana on, it’ll make you look more like a bandit.’

  Eric took the grey cloth from Bill and wrapped it over his mouth and retched. The smell was somewhere between stale onions and armpits. ‘You’re coming with me?’ he asked, hopeful.

  ‘If we go together, you’ll blend right in. Also, let’s just say I’m deeply curious about your plan,’ Bill smiled mischievously. ‘I can’t help myself. I gotta see how this pans out.’

  Eric wondered the exact same thing.

  The four of them approached the main gate, striding as if they were supposed to be there. Eric held his breath. Two bandits stood either side of the entrance. As they passed, one locked eyes with Eric.

  Eric’s stomach was in his throat. He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking and kept his eyes down. The door itself lay splintered across the dirt, covered in moss and cobwebs. They stepped between its remains.

  Yet not a single guard moved a muscle.

  ‘That was easy,’ muttered Bill as they passed through the passageway and into the courtyard. The builder certainly had a fetish for overhead walkways. Random paths to nowhere zig-zagged above them, some of them with huge gaps splitting them apart. They seemed like a total death trap. Almost no guards were to be seen, and the ones that were visible vacantly stared off into the distance.

  Bill led them over to a fence with a walkway built head-height over it. ‘The Bandit King likes to be in the hardest-to-reach part of the fort, so you have to go through everything before you find him.’ He winked at Eric. ‘Luckily I know a shortcut.’ He leapt onto the wooden wall, his lithe limbs bending effortlessly as he clambered up. Once he reached the platform he whispered. ‘Come on up.’

  Eric grunted as he heaved himself onto the platform, panting into the bandana until it was moist.

  ‘It’s funny, adventurers never find this way in,’ said Bill, grabbing Eric’s arm and pulling him the rest of the way. ‘It’s like they can’t be bothered to climb or jump even the slightest bit.’

  Once they’d all made it up, Bill opened a door at the end of the walkway and they crept into the darkness within. Lit torches lined the walls, flickering ghostly amber across the wood. They emerged into a gigantic hall, propped up by mighty columns topped by crossbeams, from which hung skeleton-filled cages.

  Dozens of bandits milled around them. Some fought, some laughed, others sharpened swords. They seemed identical to his bandit guides, ragged, thin and fond of bandanas. Many of them moved items out of wagons and onto the piles of loot that lined the walls. Each pile was distinct, one for swords, another helms, another gold, another silver. Eric couldn’t help but lick his lips. Different wagons were being re-loaded from the piles. These were green and labelled with the Adventurer’s Supply logo.

  Then the breath stopped in his throat.

  Sat at the centre was the most disturbing mound of them all. A pile of skulls. As Eric’s eyes adjusted to the light, he realised it was a throne of skulls, sat on by a thick-set man.

  The man saw them.

  The man’s bone necklace clattered as he stood up. He tossed his black ragged cloak over his shoulder and stepped towards them, eyes burning. Or rather, eye. As one was missing from a gaping scar across his face. Bill pushed Eric gently towards the menacing figure, then took a step back.

  Eric held his ground, grasped at his crossbow with one hand and wiped the sweat from his palm with the other.

  The Bandit King stopped a few feet away, breathing heavily. ‘What do you want, maggots? Stare at me like that any longer and I’ll have your balls.’ There was a look in The Bandit King’s eye that seemed unhinged. His eye didn’t keep still, but darted all over as if it was already engaged in a bar brawl.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Eric felt paralysed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

  ‘Work your tongue, recruit, before I rip it out and have it for breakfast!’ The Bandit King shouted, bringing the hall to silence. All eyes were on them.

  Eric was very used to dealing with men or creatures who held positions of power. They had an ego the size of their castles and expected people to kneel to them unquestioningly. The trick was to bow and yet appear to be their equal, unfazed by their bravado. Only then would they listen. Or that was the theory anyway, it mainly worked on the goblins.

  Eric cleared his throat. ‘I’ve come to you to pay a ransom, you’ve captured someone very dear to me. There was a mix-up with a Main Quest, but I’m not an adventurer. I’ve got no gold to trade for her, but I do have a better offer if you’ll hear it.’

  The Bandit King sneered. ‘My patience wears thin, filth. Get on with it or I’ll have you ransomed up the wall.’

  Eric nodded. ‘Very well.’ He spoke louder, knowing he had an audience, he needed them on his side too. ‘Adventurers have plagued us for too long. My business is in ruins, the land is desolate and no-one is safe.’ He gestured to the room full of wide-eyed bandits. ‘Especially not for bandits. Even a tiny creature hiding in the deepest cave isn’t safe. They kill every little thing in their path. And for what? Fun, sport, Experience. They have no care for life, just ending it and profiting. Most have more money than they even know how to spend.’

  There was a titter amongst the crowd. The Bandit King growled and they went silent. ‘What of it?’ he said. ‘We make do.’

  ‘From what I hear, you’ve been helping the adventurers along. Making ransoms, filling forts for them to raid, sending your men to the slaughter.’ Eric gestured across at some of the bandits who were covered in bandages or had missing limbs. They looked to each other and began nodding with agreement. ‘Maybe if you stopped helping them you could end adventuring once and for all. Finally plunder in peace.’

  The crowd became animated, chattering agreement and shouting curses.

  ‘SILENCE!!’ screamed The Bandit King. ‘We’re doing no such thing, maggot.’ He turned to his minions and raised his voice. ‘All of you, listen up. We’ve got a good thing going here. We keep the adventurers entertained and get a cut of the profits. Then we get the best rates selling what we loot back to the Adventurer’s Supply shops. We’re richer than ever.’

  ‘It doesn’t look to me like you’re all that rich,’ said Eric, pointing at the rotting walls. ‘Do your men share in these riches?’

  There was more muttering from the crowd.

  The Bandit King scowled at their response. ‘Get out of here before I lop off your head.’ He drew his sword and pointed it at Eric.

  ‘Well then… I guess that settles it.’ Eric stepped back and raised his crossbow. ‘All I ask is that you return my hostage, Daisy.’

  ‘Daisy?’ The Bandit King rolled his head back and let out a diabolical laugh. ‘That mule we had to kidnap? Hahaha!’ The Bandit King grinned wide, a disturbing satisfaction on his face. ‘She’s dead, fella. Long dead. We don’t have time for silly animals.’

  Eric felt his blood boil. His fingers shook, his jaw clenched. That was it, Daisy was gone.

  ‘You think your pitiful crossbow can hurt me?’ The Bandit King cackled, ‘I’ve got more Experience than a thousand adventurers.’ He twirled his sword. ‘Did you know, I used to be an adventurer myself, many years ago? When I crush your skull, I shall enjoy taking your essence for my own. My power is...’

  That was when Eric noticed the fire pit. The carcass rotating over the flames, golden and dripping blood. Were they cooking a whole horse? No, it was a mule...

  Something came alive inside of him. The room melted away. All that was left was rage and hurt and pain. All that was left was the man gloating between his crosshairs.

  Eric pulled the trigger.

  The Bandit King’s neck exploded as the quarrel flew straight through it. Blood sprayed everywhere. His head tumbled off his shoulders, stopping at Eric’s feet. Eric stood, stunned. Heads don’t come off like that. Had his father enchanted this crossbow?

  The crowd went silent.

  Time stopped.

  Bill grabbed Eric’s hand and held it high. ‘All hail Eric, the new Bandit King!’

  ‘All hail The Bandit King!’ cried the crowd, who bowed low and cheered. ‘All hail the Bandit King! All hail The Bandit King!’

  These kinds of folk worked on primal instinct. Kill the leader, you’re the leader. It was a model which inspired the majority of orcish culture, which was one reason humans avoided orcs. That and the oral hygiene.

  Eric raised his hand and the crowd went silent. One wrong word and they’d turn on him, they could get another Bandit King in a matter of minutes.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Are you sick of helping the adventurers?’

  The crowd cheered.

  Eric continued. ‘They’ve destroyed everything good in this world. You should be fighting them, fair and square, not giving them quests and luring them into your home.’ He gestured to the piles. ‘Don’t sell these weapons and armour to Adventurer's Supply, keep them for yourselves! Use them to defend against these questing lunatics. No more adventurers, no more quests and no more Adventurer’s Supply!’

  ‘Yeah!’ the crowd shouted, fists in the air.

  ‘Down with Adventurer's Supply!’ came a voice.

  ‘Raid Adventurer's Supply!’ came another.

  Eric waved his hands in disagreement. ‘Well, maybe let’s not raid anywhere...’

  Bill jumped up onto the throne of skulls and addressed the crowd. ‘We shouldn’t be selling to these shops… we should be ruddy robbing ‘em! Think of all the great gear we can get!’

  ‘Yeah!’ the crowd roared.

  Bill continued, ‘Let’s go, right now, all of us, send the ravens to every bandit hideout in the land. We’ll burn every last Adventurer’s Supply to the ground, arm ourselves good and proper, then take on these adventurers, once and for all!’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘Wait, what?’ said Eric in disbelief. ‘I was thinking maybe more of a defensive protest...’ But the cries and whoops drowned out his voice.

  The bandits poured out of the room, weapons raised, whipped into a frenzy of his own doing. It was both a glorious and terrifying sight to behold.