Playing a pawn's game.....

After our short feast, I sat the team down to go over the plan. The table's rough edges dug into my palms as I leaned forward, the flickering candlelight casting jagged shadows across the makeshift map spread before me. Myra stood to my right, her arms crossed, skepticism practically radiating from her.

Lira, on the other hand, wore a calm expression, her sharp eyes fixed on me, waiting for what I would say next. Faco sat on a stool nearby, bouncing his leg with unrestrained energy, still reveling in the success of his earlier mission.

I took a breath, letting the weight of what I was about to explain settle in my chest. "This is how we win."

My finger traced the edge of the map, stopping at the rough circle I had marked to represent the bandits' camp. "The false plan I gave the head knight will have them preparing for an attack tomorrow evening. They'll expect us to storm their base in full force when their numbers are strongest, their traps already set, their guards ready. What they won't expect is for us to strike at dawn, while they're disorganized, groggy, and overconfident."

Myra raised a brow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "And the villagers? What are they supposed to do,my lord—wave pitchforks at seasoned killers?"

I met her gaze evenly. "They don't have to fight. They just have to outthink them." I jabbed the map, pointing to the dense forest surrounding the bandits' camp. "The villagers will set traps here—pitfalls, tripwires, spikes hidden beneath leaves. The goal isn't to kill but to corral them. When we torch their tents and force them into the trees, the forest will become a cage. Every step will be a mistake, and every mistake will cost them."

Lira nodded, her expression softening with understanding. "You'll push them into a trap they can't escape."

"Exactly," I said, letting a sliver of pride slip into my voice. "And while the villagers focus on the traps, we'll hit them at the heart of their camp—silently, efficiently. By the time they realize they're under attack, it'll be too late. They'll scatter into the forest, only to meet the traps waiting for them."

Faco's hand shot up like an eager student. "And what if they don't run into the forest? What if they try to stand and fight?"

I couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm. "That's where the fire comes in." I pointed again, this time to the clustered tents. "We'll torch the camp systematically, starting from the edges and moving inward. The heat, the smoke, the confusion—it'll leave them with no choice but to flee. And when they do, they'll walk right into our hands."

Myra uncrossed her arms, her smirk fading into something more serious. "You're betting a lot on timing and precision, my lord."

"I know," I admitted. "But we don't have the luxury of a perfect plan. We have to move swiftly, decisively. If we wait, they'll raid the village, and we'll lose any advantage we have."

Lira placed a hand on my shoulder, her voice steady. "Then let's make it happen, My lord."

---

The first blush of dawn stained the sky as we crouched in the underbrush just outside the bandits' camp. The air was cool, damp with the lingering chill of night, but I felt nothing but the heat of anticipation coursing through me.

The villagers had worked through the night, their fear of failure fueling their efforts. Pitfalls now lined the forest paths, concealed beneath layers of leaves and branches.

Tripwires connected to noise-making traps were strung between trees, and sharp stakes had been planted in shallow trenches. It wasn't elegant, but it didn't need to be.

It just needed to work.

I turned to my companions, their faces barely visible in the dim light. Myra and Lira carried themselves with quiet confidence, their weapons at the ready. Faco's eyes were wide with nerves, but his jaw was set in determination.

"Remember," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "We move quickly and quietly. No unnecessary noise. Take them out one by one."

They nodded, and I gave the signal.

We slipped into the camp like shadows, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot drowned out by the snores of sleeping men. The tents were clustered together haphazardly, their makeshift construction a testament to the bandits' arrogance. They had grown too comfortable, too complacent.

The bandits thought they were safe. That their little camp, tucked away from prying eyes, was untouchable. Fools.

"Move," I murmured.

We descended on the camp like shadows, silent and deadly.

The first tent was mine. I slipped inside, the muffled snores of its occupant greeting me. A single swipe of my blade silenced him. I wiped the dagger clean on his blanket before stepping back out.

Across the clearing, Myra and Lira moved with practiced ease, cutting down their targets without so much as a whisper of sound. Even Faco held his own, his strikes quick and precise despite the sweat beading on his brow.

The bandits began to stir as we worked through the tents. A groggy man stumbled out into the clearing, rubbing his eyes—and froze when he saw me.

Before he could shout, an arrow from Lira's bow buried itself in his throat. He gurgled once, then collapsed.

"Time for phase two," I muttered, pulling the torch from my pack. With a single strike of flint, it flared to life, the flickering flames dancing in the dim light.

I stepped forward, tossing the torch onto the nearest tent. It caught immediately, the dry fabric igniting with a satisfying whoosh.

The fire spread like a living thing, consuming the camp in moments. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and choking. The remaining bandits stumbled from their tents in confusion, their cries of alarm cutting through the dawn.

"To the forest!" one of them yelled, waving his arm wildly. "Get to the trees!"

I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile as they began to flee.

They didn't know the forest had already been turned into a death trap.

Villagers hidden among the trees sprang into action as the bandits stumbled into their traps. Cries of pain echoed through the woods as men fell into pits or tripped over wires, their panic making them easy targets.

A bandit sprinted toward me, his sword raised. I stepped aside at the last moment, driving my dagger into his side as he passed. He crumpled to the ground with a strangled gasp, and I stepped over him without a second thought.

Myra appeared at my side, her dagger dripping with blood. "They're scattering," she said, her voice calm despite the chaos.

"Good," I replied. "Let them. The forest will take care of the rest."

---

By the time the sun fully rose, it was over.

The surviving bandits knelt in a clearing, their hands bound and their heads bowed. They looked pitiful now, stripped of their weapons and bravado. The small group of villagers stood around them, their faces a mix of exhaustion and triumph.

At the center of the group knelt the bandit leader. A burly man with a jagged scar down the side of his face, he had been the first to flee—and the first to be caught.

I stepped forward, the crunch of leaves under my boots drawing his gaze. He glared up at me, defiance burning in his eyes despite his predicament.

"You're finished," I said, my voice cold. "Your men are dead or captured. Your camp is ashes. You have nothing left."

"You're just like us," he spat, his voice hoarse. "A killer. A monster."

I crouched in front of him, meeting his gaze with a cold smile. "The difference is, I'm better at it."

He snarled, but I ignored him, straightening and turning to my companions. Myra stood at my left, Lira at my right, their weapons still drawn. Faco lingered a few steps behind, looking both exhausted and exhilarated.

"Now," I said, my voice steady and commanding, "let's go greet those cowards and traitors."

The villagers cheered, their cries of victory echoing through the forest. But for me, this was just the beginning. There were bigger battles ahead—and I intended to win them all.