CHAPTER III: The begining
The room was silent. Tarus sat up in his bed toying with a dagger that never left his person. He had not slept that night, of course. He had done this sort of thing before. It was almost a law that you do not fall into slumber while in the dwelling of a neutral military figure. Many men have had their lives ended by a silent knife in the dark. Suddenly the sound of muffled footsteps crept eerily into his ears. Tarus acted quickly. He crept closer to the door, dagger in hand, as the noise drew nearer. As soon as he heard the latch on his door creak he threw himself at the unsuspecting man on the opposite side of the door. "Keep silent or your heart will meet steel," Tarus whispered as he pressed his blade into the man's back. Tarus and the bandit backed into his room slowly. "Why are you here?" he commanded. The bandit shook violently, but finally words trickled out of his mouth like a drabble of blood, "I…I was sent to s-s-summon you, my lord."
"And you weren't going to announce your presence?" Tarus pushed the dagger harder making the bandit wince. The bandit merely stuttered a blathering of senseless babble. Tarus grew impatient, "knock next time." He said as he knocked the bandits head into the wall, rendering him unconscious.
Tarus stepped out of his room and made his way to the main hall, and then to the banquet table where he had previously had a disgustingly cheerful dinner with the king of the bandits. The king sat in his chair at the end of the table dining on his morning feast. Tarus walked briskly to the table, his eyes glowing with menace as they always did. "Your decision?" He demanded. The king looked up, surprised, "Ah. I see you attitude has changed since our last encounter." Tarus remained silent, his fists clenched on the table, and yet his face held a look of an aggressive calm. The king sat back in his chair and sighed, "You wish to know if I have decided?" the king stood. Tarus could see the king's sword at his side. In fact he was completely adorned for combat. The king rose his eyebrows and let a sly smile crack his lips, "I have done much more than that."
Tarus followed the king towards the front entrance of his fortress. As the king parted the drapes that acted as the doorway of the fortress, Tarus could see just what the king had been doing. A band of almost one hundred men stood in the courtyard below the fortress. At the sight of their king they all shouted a cry of magnificent unison, "Hail Cyloncrius, lord of the bandits." another triumphant shout shook the air. Yes, he thought. "Yes!"
The king turned to him, "you are pleased?" Tarus smiled, "Very much so my friend."
"Good. Come, our transportation awaits." Cyloncrius motioned to a group of cavalry mounted by elites. "So," said Tarus as they walked towards their steeds, "Cyloncrius is it? You should have told me." The king shrugged, "I usually like to keep beggars like you…informal, but I can see now that you are much more than that." Tarus simply nodded and approached his horse.
He examined the stallion very closely before coming nearer. Alas, his gear was already equipped on the horse, but he wanted to see the horse himself. Tarus was skilled in the
art horsemanship, as well as every other art that man could muster. He looked the horse directly in the eye, probing deep within its soul. The horse became restless, but kept his eyes on the man approaching him. Tarus muttered something under his breath as he reached towards the beast. As soon as his hand touched the horse's neck it began to calm down. Tarus waited for the steed to give a grunt of approval before mounting it. "You just have a way with things don't you?" Cyloncrius said mockingly as he struggled to calm his wild mount. Tarus responded with equal sarcasm while laughing inside at the kings clumsiness, "as do you my friend."
Once everyone had collected themselves, the cavalry unit marched to the head of the column of men. Tarus looked at each of them as he rode by, all the while a sense of victory gathering within him. Once at the head of the company and alongside Tarus, Cyloncrius wheeled his horse around and thrust his sword into the air as he shouted in a threatening voice, "Move out you dogs!" and with that, the scourge that would obliterate Albion set out towards their first target, Oakvale.
The beginning of the journey was a great success. All of the men seemed willing and, for bandits, were more or less uniform. As they exited the gates of the fortress the bandits who were to stay within the camp sang out in their ancient tunes of glory, followed by more glorious whoops and cheers. "Shouldn't they be coming?" Tarus inquired, "Surely you have plans of reinforcements or something of the like?" The king let out a hearty laugh, as he drew a parchment from a pouch by his saddle. He opened it to reveal an expertly crafted map of Albion, which had intricate plans for their conquest. "There are more bandits than our measly bunch," he shouted over the cheers, "Bandits from all over will converge on this point." He tapped on a spot on the map, which was circled in dark ink. "Not only will our bandit friends be there but my other… acquaintances will be aiding us also." Tarus peered at the map closely, "You worry me," he said, "a shorter list of allies means less people who could get close enough to kill you." The king laughed and took a large flask of ale from his saddlebag. "You think to much," he said as he took a deep drink from his carafe. Tarus looked at the long path ahead with a solemn glare, "That's why I'm still alive."
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