“How do you want to handle this?” Riptide asked as the men assembled on either side of the road.

  “Officially.” Alter responded after a brief moment of consideration. “We walk back to them and state our identities and intentions clearly. Keep your weapons trained on them but remember we are not free to engage unless they make a hostile move. So long as they comply with the order to stop what they’re doing, drop their weapons and step away from the wagons then no shots need be fired.”

  “And if we round the corner to find they’re already hostile?”

  “Then we deal with them.” Was the blunt response.

  “Do you want Team Two off the road at point of contact? An L-shaped ambush would work well here.”

  Alter shook his head. “Nah, I want a full show of manpower from the get go, less chance of them thinking a salvo of arrows or a rush play might work. Provided they comply with instructions, Team One shepherds them off to the left side and keeps them honest while Team Two moves up the right and searches the carts.”

  “Safeties on then.” Whim commented idly as they began their squelching march back down the road.

  Alter considered reinforcing the point but eventually let it slide as they moved. He kept his eyes straight ahead as the familiar giddiness of the impending possibility of combat settled into his stomach. They reached the first of the two turns a minute later, his heartbeat and breathing rate steadily accelerating as the seconds to contact counted down. However, the convoy had not yet reached the road’s twist and so they continued unopposed. The distance before it curved back to its original orientation was minimal and soon both parties came into view of each other.

  The first wagon was thirty metres away, moving slowly through a particularly deep section of muddy ooze. As the squad appeared around the corner, the driver quickly spotted them and entered a rushed, whispering conversation with his assistant. This second man rose slowly to his feet, one arm quietly reaching behind the wooden bench, face quizzical and eyes narrow. It took the two flanking guards another couple of seconds before they redirected their attention away from the motion of the beleaguered wheels. Trading looks with each other they cautiously advanced, hands straying towards sword-loaded hips. The guards of the second wagon soon took notice as well, and word that something was afoot quickly brought the other wagons to a halt. For a soft moment the scene was dominated by an eerie silence broken only by the gentle rustling of the trees.

  “Squad, weapons ready and advance. You know your jobs.” Alter ordered quietly.

  The two teams formed a wall of bodies and weaponry across the road and as one began moving forwards at roughly one pace per second. As the leader of the unit, shouting at confused members of the opposition was socially beneath him. That sacred duty fell to the lieutenants of the world, a responsibility Riptide adhered to with gusto.

  “In the name of Lord Oliver Masserlind, you are hereby ordered to drop your weapons, dismount, and step away from the vehicles!” He roared, his voice slipping into his native Flemish accent under the intense volume.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, blocking the road like this?” One of the more advanced guards bellowed in return, hand wrapped defiantly around the hilt of his sword.

  Alter’s mouth tightened in annoyance at their lack of immediate cooperation. It was the increasingly familiar problem of people not recognising the threat a gun posed, he could feel the fight creeping closer as a bow began to emerge from behind the wagon-driver’s bench.

  “Squad halt, safeties off but keep those fingers off triggers. Give them every chance.” He amended, receiving several clicks in response. An ominous sound if you knew what it meant.

  “We are knights in the service of the house of Masserlind, and we have orders to search any and all wagons moving along the road. Don’t do anything you could regret.” Riptide warned.

  The challenging man sneered at his statement. “Bullshit, you’re just a bunch of bandits who are dumb enough to think you can scare us. Fuck off or taste steel!” There was a rasping sound as he drew his sword and pointed it at them.

  By this point the second pairs of guards had caught up to the first and a pair of bows were visible but not yet readied.

  “Don’t think asking nicely will cut it. Gonna need to scare them, boss.” Boats murmured. “Could knock Loudmouth’s shoulder for six, that’d get their attention.”

  “Aim.” Alter ordered with a snarl of his own.

  The standoff continued, Riptide and the lead guard exchanging warnings and threats as all the while the two parties continued to get closer. It was the bowman on the lead wagon that blinked first, in a sudden movement he readied an arrow and began to draw the bowstring back. Boats was alert though, and before the man could bring his arrow to bear a shot from the marksman rifle cracked out. The wood of the bench next to the man exploded in a shower of splinters as a dozen birds launched into the sky in blind panic. The guards faltered, their heads snapping around to the impact and the swearing bowman who dropped his armament in fright. Boats waited for their faces to turn back to them before letting loose another round. One of the wagon’s wheels similarly erupted in shards and the tethered horses whinnied and stood on their hind legs as the loud noises threatened to see them panic and attempt to bolt.

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  “You were given an order. Swords down and step away!” Boats thundered.

  The caravaners were rattled, it was plain to see. They glanced at each other nervously, their sword points edging closer to the ground as they shuffled in place. The newly silenced leader turned to face them slowly, his own sword arm steady and raised. With a look of pure disgust he pointed his blade directly at them, and just as Alter was preparing to order a disabling shot, his fingers parted and the sword fell to the ground with a soft thud.

  Nobody spoke as his arm slowly dropped to his side. Disbelief was written on the faces of both parties. He motioned for his companions to do the same, and after a hesitant second more blades met the floor.

  “Move up.” Alter ordered.

  The two teams split as they progressed with their plan. Alter’s group ushered the men to the treeline and placed themselves between them and their surrendered blades. Riptide edged his group along the far side, stopping once to deal with the second driver who needed a little more persuasion. After another tense minute all heads were accounted for and the search was underway. The men were made to sit amidst the closest trees facing away into the forest, and while they grumbled quietly to each other there was no immediate hint of any death-or-glory resistance. Alter stepped back and stole a glance into the nearest wagon. It was piled high with boxes and baskets, sacks and pots. Riptide and Vangroover were determined to be thorough, and nothing was left unopened. The first wagon was declared clear ten minutes later, and at fifteen a shout from the middle wagon drew everyone’s attention.

  “Look what we have here!” Whim called as he upended a large leather trunk out onto the muddy road.

  Light blue uniforms were scattered across the path, trousers and jackets clearly emblazoned with the Masserlind coat of arms.

  Pavejack let out a low whistle. “Looks like someone’s in trouble.” He cooed in a singsong voice.

  There was no answer from the sitting men, but the tensing of muscles throughout indicated more than one guilty conscience. A short while later a second trunk emerged from the rear wagon and a nice pile of clothing was made in the middle.

  “That’s the lot.” Riptide reported as he strolled over to Alter. “No weapons to be found, we checked every container, we even searched under the beds for hidden compartments. Everything else is mundane trade goods.”

  “We weren't expecting to find both objectives at once to begin with.” Alter shrugged. “There are too many to take with us, burn them, then find me some rope.”

  Riptide nodded and moved away. Alter watched intently as flame was coaxed into existence and the tumble of garments began to burn. Satisfied that the flames were sufficient but not too wild to risk spreading, he turned back to the sitting men.

  “Here’s how this is going to work. We’re tying you up and leaving you here, for now. The next town is a couple of hours away, there I’ll give orders for the local guard to come and pick you up and take you into custody. I’ll leave it up to them as to how you’re dealt with but I’ll make sure they know you surrendered peacefully.” He informed them.

  Again there was no verbal response, a couple of the men spat angrily into the woods as a sign of defiance while others meekly accepted his words. With slow, careful movements and constant reminders of what was pointed at them, each man was turned and bound by their arms and legs.

  “What will become of us?” The leader asked as his turn arrived.

  “I don’t know.” Alter answered simply, the finer points of this nation’s justice system were beyond him.

  “What if the guards never come for us?” He continued.

  “Then you shall have to hope that more travellers find and release you before anything terrible happens.”

  “You would let us starve?” He laughed dryly, causing his fellow prisoners faces to pale at the thought.

  “Would you rather I had ordered my men to kill you? Be thankful for your chance at life.” Alter growled as he leaned in, allowing a wave of emotion to cloud his judgement before pulling away again.

  Trusting his friends to finish the job he walked a short distance away and blew out a pent-up breath. There he remained, facing down the road towards where their horses were being kept, one ear listening to what was happening behind him. A set of footsteps betrayed one of his companion’s approached him.

  “Everyone is secure and the uniforms are already too damaged to be useful.” The quiet voice of Walross reported.

  “Do you think we’ve taken the correct action today, Peter?” Alter asked, not turning his head.

  The other man considered his words for a moment. “No one died, and with those authorization papers you’ve got then the guards shouldn’t kick up a fuss about securing them later. I think we’re doing the best we can, given the circumstances.”

  “We’re abandoning them in the wilderness.”

  “Better than leaving a pile of bodies in our wake. Like we usually do.” Walross let a slight edge enter his voice. Not enough to be considered a threat, more of a tactical reminder.

  Alter nodded at his wisdom as the others finished their duties and formed up around him. It was time to go, and the order was given to return to their mounts. Alter stole a glance backwards as they left, and offered a silent prayer that he hadn’t just abandoned twelve men to a horrid fate.