The Thief's Tale (Part 1)

"Please," the boy repeated, bowing his head.

Neve inspected the crest closely. It was finely embroidered–a marvel of glittering goldwork. Surely, no young thief would normally have such an expensive piece of fabric. Nor would one be stupid enough to brazenly counterfeit such an important symbol.

Faced with an authentic crest of the Imperial Army, Neve had no choice but to believe the boy's tall claim.

The boy's hands trembled slightly as he waited for Neve to speak, clutching the torn cloth like it was his lifeline.

It wasn't, really. Neve never intended to kill the young boy, who was no older than her siblings. But knowing the boy possessed information regarding Bluhera's military movements, she couldn't just let him go.

Neve sighed, sheathing her sword.

Thump!

The bodies of the dead bandits dropped to the ground once Neve's magic disappeared. The boy's head snapped up at the sound, his eyes widening. He looked back and forth between Neve and the scattered corpses littering the ground a few dozen feet away.

"Miss?"

"For now, just follow me," Neve said, ignoring the boy's bewildered expression. She turned her head in the direction where Oliver had fallen. "My friend has been injured."

The young bandit nodded and scrambled to his feet, carefully tucking the Bluhera crest into his pocket. He hurried after Neve, who was already making her way to Oliver's side. The boy didn't pause as he stepped over the bodies of his allies. He didn't even spare them a glance.

"Ludger!" Neve shouted into the woods. "Ludger!"

Oliver's body twitched at the sound of Neve's voice. She quickly knelt down, gently inspecting the knight's wounds, and ignored her own injured shoulder.

Neve carefully peeled back Oliver's tunic, which was soaked in his blood. Underneath was a deep, ragged wound that penetrated through the skin and into muscle.

"Oliver, are you conscious?" Neve asked, pressing her hand against the knight's pale cheek. It was cold and clammy–not a good sign.

With some effort, Oliver's eyes fluttered open, though they appeared to be unfocused.

"Barely," he rasped. "You got them? With your…"

"Yes," Neve replied shortly, mindful of the stranger who was standing behind her. Though, he had already witnessed the entire scene unfold.

"Lady Neve! Are you alright?" Ludger cried, bursting out from behind the trees. He paused at the sight of Oliver lying on the ground, covered in his own blood. "Sir Oliver!"

The squire rushed to the knight's side, falling to knees. He examined the wound, his hands hovering midair hesitantly, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

"We need to treat his wounds," Neve instructed as calmly as she could. "Ludger, retrieve some spare clothes from Sir Oliver's pack. We will use the fabric to dress him."

"Yes, My Lady!" Ludger jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he dashed away.

Oliver opened his eyes again, squinting over Neve's shoulder at the boy standing behind her. "Who's the kid?"

"He was with the bandits," Neve answered. "He has information about Bluhera's Imperial Army."

Oliver grimaced as he turned his head, trying to get a better look at the boy. "What were you doing on this route?" the knight asked through ragged breaths. "It's a treacherous journey if you are not prepared."

"It was an accident, mostly," the young bandit replied, his voice wavering uncertainly. "We didn't realize we crossed the border. We ran out of food a few days ago, which is why we…"

The boy trailed off into silence, averting his gaze from the wounded knight. The carnage surrounding them spoke volumes.

"The border between Bluhera and Asteria is a strange place to be," Oliver spoke eventually.

"It's dangerous, but the rewards are worth the risks," the boy explained enthusiastically. "We've hit a few of Bluhera's camps. The knights usually bring a lot of valuables, so we make a small fortune every trip."

Neve raised an eyebrow. "This might be something you shouldn't share with us."

"Right," the bandit gulped, looking down.

Oliver chuckled, then immediately cursed as his abdominal muscles constricted painfully. More blood spilled out of the wound, pooling between the knight's body and the ground.

Ludger returned at that moment, his arms full of Oliver's clothing. He placed the pile of clothes on the ground, avoiding the growing puddle of blood surrounding the knight.

Neve grabbed a linen tunic and began to tear it, ripping it into long strands of fabric. Ludger followed her lead, making quick work of a long-sleeved shirt.

The young bandit shuffled his feet restlessly, looking around the decimated campsite. Neve cleared her throat, making the boy jump. He met her gaze, cheeks reddening.

"Well?" Neve asked, nodding her head at the pile of clothing in between Ludger and her.

"Oh, sure," the boy babbled. He sat down promptly and grabbed an undershirt. "I can do that. I've dressed a lot of fatal wounds before. But they were, you know, fatal. So I don't know if I'm actually good at it."

"Hey," Ludger said quietly. The young bandit's hands paused mid-tear as he turned to look at the blond squire. "Stop talking."

The boy's mouth snapped shut. "Right."

Before long, they had accumulated an impressive amount of torn fabric. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only the dim light of dusk behind. Without much time to spare, Neve began the arduous process of dressing Oliver's wounds.

"Oliver, I'm going to start wrapping your injury," Neve announced, placing a hand on his shoulder to see if he was still awake. "Clench your teeth."

Neve wrapped her arms around the knight's torso, carefully sliding a strip of fabric underneath his back. Oliver grunted in pain as she jostled his body. Neve began pulling the fabric over his stomach tightly, watching as patches of red blossomed through the white cloth.

"I'm not going to be able to hold on much longer," Oliver stuttered out through gritted teeth. "I will make the journey back to Ironhold tonight, and the rest of you must continue the journey to Hell's Gate alone."

"Hell's Gate?" the bandit choked out. He quickly smacked his hand over his mouth.

"What?" Neve exclaimed, accidentally yanking the dressing. Oliver cursed at the sudden movement. "Sorry. But you are in no condition to be riding, Sir Oliver. Ludger will escort you."

"And what? You're going to travel alone?" Oliver demanded.

"No, I won't be alone," Neve replied. She turned her head, looking at the wide-eyed bandit sitting beside her. "He's coming with me."

"You trust him?" the knight asked incredulously.

Neve frowned. "No, but I can incapacitate him if he tries anything." The boy squeaked.

"Um," Ludger interrupted. "I-I'm not sure how I'll be able to bring Sir Oliver back. He can't ride in his current state."

"I have a cart!" the bandit exclaimed. "We left it at our camp. It's just up the road. I could go fetch it."

Neve peered at the boy, who was wearing an expression that was a little too hopeful. "No, Ludger will go."

The bandit deflated, turning back to the tunic in his hands sullenly. "Right, of course."