115 What They Deserve

Captain Cecil's ship, the Salty Selkie, was sunk by the Kingdom's naval forces nearly two weeks prior. He figured robbing people on land wouldn't be much different than at sea... but he was beginning to think that was not the case.

After the Selkie ran aground, near half of the survivors mutinied or deserted almost immediately. The ragtag crew left behind were illiterate, unskilled, or were overall too reliant on Cecil's wise and capable direction to leave.

After several suns of dwindling supplies, the crew was losing confidence in his leadership abilities. Raiding a merchant caravan was his best hope in raising the crew's morale... but with the appearance of the bastard knight, his authority was beginning to crumble.

His naysayers were a mere Kingdom knight, his two children, and his dog. Cecil was a pirate Captain who had sailed with his pirate crew for months and years! It couldn't be that difficult to win back their hearts and minds!

The former ship captain crossed his arms, standing tall and puffing out his chest.

"Well! They..." He leaned forward emphasize his point, "--looked at me funny... So I shot 'em between the eyes!!"

He opened his arms and faced his crew, pistols in the air, "NO ONE crosses Cap'n Cecil and lives ta tell the tale!!"

Some of his men's morale seemed to return. They didn't cheer aloud like earlier, but the mumbles sounded generally positive. Anyroad, when Cecil distributed the coin, the men wouldn't go hungry into the coming night. The crew shouldn't mutiny for at least a couple of suns.

"No, they didn't!" The knight plainly refuted him.

"Well, that's not fair," Cecil argued. "You didn't see it. You don't know that."

"Aaarrrgh," The knight groaned. "That's what I'm saying. You shoot someone to prove a point! 'Gimme all your goods or you won't live to see tomorrow, yarr.' What was the point of killing the *lot* of them?"

"I uh..." Cecil rubbed his beard with the end of his pistol.

"And quit that," The knight slapped the pistol out of Cecil's hand. Cecil didn't even see when the young, green-haired knight had moved adjacent to him.

"That thing's dangerous, isn't it? What if it misfired and blasted your jaw off? A rather insipid death, don't you think?" the knight reprimanded.

Cecil tried to shove the knight away, "Shut up!"

The knight swayed his body and made Cecil lose his balance for a moment. Hoping that his crew wouldn't notice, Cecil walked a few steps away, "Let me think... We, uh-- we killed them all so they wouldn't tell anyone!"

The knight had his arms crossed, tapping a metal finger on his armored bicep, "And then?"

"And... then no bounties would be posted." Cecil grinned wickedly, regaining his confidence, "Are you daft? Do you really need me to explain it to you?"

"Am *I* daft? Seven bleeding hells, you ignorant bastard!" The knight yelled, "This was a *merchant caravan.* This caravan had a FLAG. They have trade routes and INSURANCE policies. If a caravan goes missing, everyone finds out."

Cecil turned to look at a nearby carriage. There was a smoldering flag on it, too damaged to identify. He looked to his men, who were looking at him with shameful expressions.

"Alright!" Tycon gave a wide exaggerated shrug, "You lot. I'm in charge now."

Cecil was flabbergasted, "What? No! What? You can't just decide that!"

"Lone."

A rough-looking man with a scarred nose emerged from the bushes, wielding two very, very heavy looking wolf-hammers.

Cecil stared blankly, "How many people are you hiding in those bushes?"

The knight looked back, "You learn how to use those things?"

The rough man grinned, the terrifying grin of a ruthless torturer. He lifted up his hammers, the eyes of the wolves glowing red as the dark iron wolf-heads burst into flame.

Cecil dropped his remaining pistol, "I surrender."

One of the bandits stepped forward, "Wot? I been workin' for the Cap'n for 3 years! I ain't just gonna 'and the leadership to you!"

Another stepped forward, "Yeahh! Not wivout a fight!"

A murmur went through the crowd of bandits, a bit lacking in enthusiasm.

The knight remained impassive, but raised his voice, "Very well, who's your strongest man?"

The bandits looked at each other-- "The Cap'n?" "The captain." "Maybe Big Lawrence?"

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Big Lawrence, a big man a bit over 6 fulms tall, took a shallow-step forward. He carried with him an impressive looking, two-handed falchion on his shoulder, "Hi. I'm Big Lawrence. First name, William."

The knight nodded, "Good morning. My name is Tycon. Mister Lawrence, can you defeat my man over there?"

William Lawrence looked over to the knight's man. He had a few ilms advantage in height but the other man had hammers that were literally on fire. Lawrence gave Tycon a humble smile, "No, sir. I don't think I can."

Tycon pursed his lips... "Well, thank you for your honesty. You may step back."

"Thank you, sir."

Cecil piped up, "But you guys have a kid!!"

Knight Tycon nodded, "Fair point. Mister Pale. Miss Taree."

The young half-elven boy in a wizard hat stepped forward. He chanted something and 3 levitating orbs of roiling flame floated around his spear.

The silver-haired maid girl picked up a rock the size of Lawrence's fist and smashed it against her forehead. Not a bruise or mark or drop of blood was evident. She crumbled the rock into powder and spilled it upon the dirt. Then she hocked up phlegm and spat on the ground.

"Any challengers?" Tycon asked.

None of the bandits stepped forward.

Pale dispelled his magic, frowning at Taree. They both looked slightly disappointed.

"Well, that does it." Knight Tycon spun his finger, "Mister Cecil, Gather all your men out here. And be quick about it. I don't have all sun."

...

Tycon had the bandits head to Merylsward to seek out Reynard. They all decided to keep their crew together, a trait that Tycon found admirable. They were a terribly stupid lot, but there were a few Bronze-Ranks among them, Lawrence and Cecil in particular. Reynard could use the much-needed combat power for his future enterprises.

"But... what about the women we captured, Sir Baron?" Cecil inquired.

Dragan, the near 9-fulm tall Titanblood walked out from behind one of the merchant carriages.

The former-Captain was visibly sweating, staring at Dragan's height, "Was-- was he in the bushes too?"

Dragan grimaced, "Hey, Boss. The wagons were carrying mostly cloth goods. All of it's gone to shite, though."

Tycon took a deep breath. Suddenly, he grabbed Cecil by the collar, "YOU DON'T DESERVE A GODS-DAMNED THING!!"

"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry! I was just asking!" Cecil was panicking, showing his palms.

"Calm down. Don't piss yourself," Tycon shoved the bearded man. Cecil lost his balance and fell onto his arse.

He glared at the fallen man, "Get moving. If there's a militia or adventurer patrol in the next few hours, they might be able to track you down."

Tycon snatched the man's pistol belts off of him, "And I'm taking these. Arse."

"Alright, Boss! That's fine!" Cecil's voice had raised an octave.

Tycon handed him a cheap sword, "Now sod off, Mister Cecil. I hope you aren't this disappointing after you get a salary."

Hope bloomed in Cecil's heart, "Y-yes, Boss!"

Tycon glared... "And get a haircut."

...

Dragan stretched the shoulder of his injured arm, still sealed in a hard cast. Tycon had continued with Guild Invictus towards Port Caractere while the Titanblood traveled with the 3 surviving women.

"Ayep, accordin' to Boss, just over that way, there's a small village called Underfoot."

The oldest among them, Henriette sobbed heavy tears, "Thank you, Monsieur Dragan. I thought... I thought my life would be over after my father and mother were killed."

Dragan patted the woman with a heavy hand, "Yeahhhh, that's the spirit."

Odette stared blankly at the ground, while her sister Marie shook her.

"Odette... Odette, come on! We're going to live in a new place with big sis Henriette!"

The staring girl shook her head, "I hate them... I hate them all. I want to... I want to be a Knight when I grow up. I'll make people like them pay."

Dragan nodded a few times, "Yep yeap. It's a shame."

He unsheathed his sword and cut cleanly through Odette's neck. With two quick more slashes, he cut down Marie and Henriette.

Dragan silently shook his head. It was a shame that Plan Underfoot meant to get rid of the witnesses.

Channeling a steady stream of fire mana, Dragan started to burn the bodies.