The Forest Ambush

Leaving the gentle slopes of the plain where Osbrück Manor stood, and following a tributary of the Morava River upstream, three miles later, a deep, silent, dense forest emerged. According to the villagers residing near its fringes, this forest was frequently haunted by jackals and wild beasts, served as a hideout for mountain bandits and robbers, and was even rumored to harbor something far more alarming: a strange family, cruelly cursed by a sorcerer, lived in its deepest recesses, their bodies twisted and deformed, subsisting daily on raw flesh and blood—a sight more terrifying than any pagan.

This perilous forest was shunned even by the most seasoned hunters.

Yet, a mile into its depths, a band of robbers had established their stronghold, meticulously setting up an ambush.

Several felled birch and fir trees, their withered branches still clinging, were piled in the middle of the road, forming a barricade impassable even for cartwheels, a barrier that would likely trip even a heavy warhorse towering five feet four inches at the shoulder.

“Boss Reken, do you think they’ll come?” a fur-clad bandit, clutching a short axe, whispered to the man beside him—a formidable figure in leather armor, his arm as thick as a qilin’s, hidden behind a bush.

“Didn’t you hear just now? Or do you believe ‘Cat’ brought back false intelligence?” Reken plucked the string of his composite bow, then stroked the fletching of the arrows tucked into the quiver at his hip.

He stared intently into the distant road, his words laced with palpable impatience.

The fur-clad bandit chuckled, “I just found it odd. The ‘Halfling’ has never made a mistake in infiltration or assassination, yet this time, while trying to steal something, he actually got caught.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, even the most skilled stumble; nothing is truly impossible. Given that it was Sir Černý, the Spear Knight’s manor, I’m hardly surprised the Halfling was caught, but…”

“But what?” the fur-clad bandit asked, curiosity piqued.

Reken continued, “I thought that cowardly, greedy dwarf would simply grab some coin and flee. I never imagined he’d actually try to steal the treasure. I’d originally intended for ‘Cat’ to snatch him back as he made his escape, but it seems that won’t be necessary now.”

As he spoke, the tall grass behind them rustled, and a head poked out.

It was ‘Cat,’ a young lad with red hair, brown eyes, and ruddy, youthful skin.

“Boss, a merchant caravan is approaching!” Cat announced.

“Is it the group that stayed overnight at Sir Černý’s manor?” Reken inquired.

Cat hesitated for a moment before replying, “The caravan isn’t flying any banners, but the number of carriages matches. It should be them.”

Reken nodded, then commanded the fur-clad bandit and Cat, “Go tell the lads on both sides of the road that our main targets have arrived! Tell them to get ready!”

“Yes! Yes!”

Just as the fur-clad bandit was about to depart, he turned back and asked, “Boss Reken, how did you know the treasure would definitely be with that caravan?”

Without a word, Reken simply pointed to his head: “With my brain.”

****

As the sun began its descent, leaning westward to the fifth quarter of the Shen hour, a horse’s head, no bigger than a fingertip, emerged from a distant bend in the road.

Soon, four warhorses and four covered wagons fully appeared within Reken’s sight.

Perhaps due to the narrowness of the path, which only allowed two horses abreast or a single carriage, the caravan moved exceptionally slowly.

“Come on, come on…” Reken watched the approaching convoy, a sinister smile creeping across his face.

The ambush site he had chosen was undoubtedly optimal, with dense thickets and trees lining both sides of the road, and the terrain on either flank rising higher than the hard-packed dirt path, forming two natural slopes.

For the caravan to spot them, they would have to look up, and with the shrubs providing ample concealment, detecting them would be exceedingly difficult.

‘Hmph! That idiot Kunar, does he really think I’d lead these forty-odd men to raid a manor? If I did, I’d be the next to die!’

Reken scoffed to himself, never doubting Kunar’s questionable virtues.

‘When the cunning rabbit is dead, the hounds are cooked; when the soaring birds are gone, the good bow is put away.’ If Sir Černý were killed, the Bishop would never let it rest. Count Otta the Handsome would undoubtedly lead his inner-circle knights to hunt them down, just as they did with that group of sorcerers before.

“Hmm? Why aren’t they moving?” Reken’s gaze sharpened as he noticed the caravan had stopped about fifty yards from the barricade.

The two leaders, mounted on horseback, exchanged whispers. The blond lad said something to the blond woman, pointing towards the barricade and the sides of the road.

A bad premonition swelled within Reken.

And indeed, the very next moment, the two leaders turned to shout something to the caravan behind them, then promptly began turning their warhorses around.

“Damn it, stop hiding! Everyone, charge!” Reken leaped from the tall grass, raising his wooden bow and roaring.

The bandits, receiving their command, burst from the dense forest, wielding long spears, clubs, short axes, and flails. They charged forward, letting out fierce battle cries as they ran—a horde of bloodthirsty, savage brigands.

Upon seeing the swarm of bandits emerging from the forest, the caravan seemed to fall into disarray. Warhorses neighed in fright, and the two leaders even leaped from their saddles in a panic, utterly at a loss.

Reken instantly felt a surge of confidence.

In such dense woods, warhorses struggled to maneuver, and their escape route was blocked by carriages. Dismounting and fleeing was indeed a sensible choice, but could they truly outrun these violent, ferocious brigands?

Fleeing would only hasten their demise!

Reken grinned silently, but he dared not drop his guard. A man must seize opportunity when fortune smiles upon him!

Thus, with swift motion, he snatched a rhomb-headed heavy arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring.

The arrowhead glinted coldly, aimed precisely at the blond woman. His index, middle, and ring fingers, accustomed to the Mediterranean draw, tightened their grip, and the bowstring was gradually drawn taut with a tense creaking sound—

“Whoosh!”

****

The blazing red sun hung in the sky, marking the first quarter of the Shen hour. Noren and her companions, having journeyed north from the manor for an hour, finally traversed the gentle slopes of the river valley plain.

Before them lay a dark, profound forest. At the entrance to the woods, two gnarled, bare oak trees stood sentinel-like on either side of the road.

Noren’s gaze followed the winding path that snaked into the forest’s interior. The woods were dim and eerily silent; no birds or beasts could be seen, and even the cicadas, which should have been chirping loudly in the summer, were hushed.

A shiver ran through her, a sensation akin to being the protagonist in a horror film where no one survives; even with the sun blazing high in the sky, its fierce warmth did little to stop the chill creeping over her skin.

“The villagers we met on the road said there are deformed monsters deep in this forest. Is that just an exaggeration, or is there some truth to it?” the young woman couldn’t help but ask.

Ryan boomed with his loud voice, “What deformed monsters? It’s just a bunch of cowardly villagers scared out of their wits by some wolves and wild dogs!”

Igor stroked his horse’s mane, soothing the piebald mare that had been startled by the loud voice. “Perhaps it’s just rumors spread by mountain bandits and robbers who want to claim the forest for themselves.”

“Does this jungle have no owner?” Noren asked.

Igor shook his head. “Though this forest is technically part of Kroměříž, it’s far from the town. Mayor Kunar hasn’t sent anyone to fell timber or clear land here.”

“What a waste of resources,” Tolke suddenly interjected. He had been quiet throughout the journey, perhaps feeling a sense of unease due to the presence of the two noble young masters.

Ryan turned, ready to mock and refute the blond youth.

Unexpectedly, Noren nodded in agreement. “Indeed, it is a waste of resources.”

She then called out to everyone in the caravan, “Once we enter the dense forest, slow down! The road inside is rough and difficult; let’s not get any wheels stuck!”

She gestured with a broad sweep of her hand towards the forest.

“Keep moving forward!”