Logan and his companions were huddled near the edge of a cliff, peering down at a caravan stopped below. The murmurs of conversation drifted up, clear and distinct, revealing that the merchants were not only armed but also well-armored.
"What lineage do you reckon they hail from? They even address him as His Highness!" Logan turned, his eyes flicking between Cardia and Tyton, his brow furrowed with curiosity.
His gaze had lingered on the group below for quite some time. From the snippets of conversation, it was evident that the caravan was guarded by orcs. However, the figures at the heart of the group, seemingly the leaders, did not bear the typical orcish brutishness.
Their facial features bore a strange blend of human and beastmen traits, but their towering height of over two meters betrayed a lineage far removed from mere humans. Even in a world where humans averaged taller than those of old Earth, such a stature was exceptional.
"Truly, they're no ordinary humans," Logan mused, squinting to get a better look at the figures whose armor gleamed under the sun.
The others nodded, equally baffled. "I'm at a loss, but that title, His Highness, surely speaks of high nobility. My father once told me that only royalty or the scions of the High Court bear such honor," Tyton added thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
"Could it be that one of them is a prince?" Cardia chimed in, her voice tinged with awe and surprise.
Logan glanced back down, noting the grim scene unfolding as bandits crept closer to the beleaguered caravan. Though the thieves were mere scavengers, darting in to rifle through the belongings of the fallen, their sheer numbers overwhelmed the guards. Each step they took was punctuated by the ruthless dispatching of any surviving guards.
The central figures, especially the one they called His Highness, appeared gravely wounded, barely able to stand amidst the protective circle of his retainers.
The dire situation below sparked a calculative gleam in Logan's eyes. "Imagine the reward that might await us if we were to save such a distinguished highness?" he speculated aloud, his mind already racing through potential gains, numbers flickering before his eyes as if some unseen algorithm calculated the possibilities.
The thieves' group posed little threat, commanded as it was by a formidable beastman of the wild boar variety, their leader boasting of level four strength, the highest among them.
Logan, observing from a higher vantage point, was taken aback as he assessed the caravan's unexpected makeup.
"To think those aren't beastman but high elves!" he exclaimed in surprise, his eyes widening at the revelation.
High elves, renowned across the lands for their graceful union of elegance and power, were second only to the elusive dragonkind in terms of might. Logan had stumbled upon not one, but five of these illustrious beings.
Upon closer inspection, the composition of the elf group was even more astonishing: among them were three magesn two of whom were of the sixth level and one of the fifth, who appeared to be a royal, and two warriors, each formidable at levels five and six, respectively. Yet, despite their strength, all but the royal figure were gravely injured.
"Agree to it!" the elf prince commanded without a second thought. The sum was trivial for a scion of his stature the lives of him and his companions were more valuable than any sum of gold.
"Yes!" Keswick affirmed, turning towards Logan with renewed vigor. "Honored Lord of the Beastman Cavalry, we accept your terms. Please, assist us in repelling these brigands."
Logan, momentarily surprised by the swift acceptance, realized just how affluent the elves truly were.
"One thousand gold coins it is then!" he declared. "The deal is sealed!"
He then pivoted to his companions, his expression shifting to one of determination. "Prepare for battle, Cardia, Tyton!"
"Understood!" they responded in unison, readying themselves to descend into the fray.
Immediately, the beastman cavalry sprung into action, drawing their crossbow repeating crossbows with swift, practiced motions. The bowstrings snapped taut as they took aim at the thieves below.
From their elevated position, they were less than a hundred meters away, a perfect striking distance.
Logan fixed a steely gaze on the wild boar leader amid the thieves and issued a chilling ultimatum: "Gather your rabble and leave, unless you wish to be buried on this hillside."
The wild quilboar leader's fury flared at the challenge, aggravated further by the sight of the businessmen willing to part with a thousand gold coins. 'These merchants are loaded!' he thought bitterly.
Yet, as he faced the daunting presence of the beastman cavalry, armed to the teeth and looked like an elite force of their kind, he had to weigh his options. His crew, consisting mostly of scrappy wild quilboars with minimal support from the almost worthless gnolls, stood no chance against such formidable opponents.
Robbery was a means of survival, not a death wish.
Though it pained him to let a lucrative catch slip through his fingers, pragmatism prevailed. With a heavy heart and a calculating look, the wild boar leader signaled his gang to gather their spoils hastily and prepare for a strategic withdrawal.
"They're actually retreating. Aren't quilboar types known for their stubbornness? Why back down so quickly?" Tyton expressed his disbelief, watching the thieves diminish their presence and start to retreat.
"They prioritize survival over pride," Logan replied, understanding the harsh realities of their harsh world.