An Experiment, Part 5 – The Camp
Unanimous votes to go to the camp – so here we go.
The bandit has a torch; a flimsy, guttering thing that half-splintered in your struggle. It is barely enough to light the way, most of its weak flame being absorbed by the cloying trees, but it is just sufficient. You walk behind the battered bandit, the blunt point of your sword pressed into the small of his back. He knows now that it is blunt, having had it up against his throat – but he also knows that his own knife, which you now carry in your offhand, is very sharp indeed.
You feel a little guilty for abandoning the inn to its fate, but you console yourself with the fact that the innkeeper looked extremely capable, and that the unconscious patron was at least still breathing. Besides, if this man does have anything worth taking, you can always return to the inn in the morning and share out your new gains. The truth is that you need money, and need it badly. Weeks of travel have almost emptied your purse, and it was not especially full to begin with. With some gold in your pocket you could buy a horse at Whetstone, or hitch a ride with a trade caravan, or even on a riverboat. Its gleam is that of possibility, in your mind’s eye.
“Little further,” the bandit hisses when you jab him lightly in the back. He is wise to be quiet. The forest is far from uninhabited, and you are two people alone in the dark, blunt sword notwithstanding.
It is indeed a little further. The bandit gingerly pushes some of the undergrowth aside, and reveals a clearing at the mouth of a cave, the remnants of an old campfire glowing gently on the ground. The bandit steps out into the clearing, hands raised slightly so you can be sure that he remains unarmed.
“Loot’s just inside,” he says. “You can watch me from out here. Not going anywhere. Swear it.”
Reluctantly you agree, and, with the torch in hand, the bandit steps inside the cave. The light keeps him visible, and, true to his word, he awkwardly picks up a metal strongbox and carries it out into the firelight.
“Here,” he says. “Take your share. Then you can go back to your pub and pretend I got away. Nobody’s any the wiser. Savvy?” You nod slowly, aware that the bandit is getting the best out of this deal in many ways: he escapes, largely unhurt, and with all the loot, instead of just a third of it. But when he opens the lid of the strongbox and reveals the gleaming coin and stolen jewellery that fill it almost to the brim, thoughts of anything save the money leave your mind entirely.
You reach out for the box, fingers closing around the first coin – and then you hear the creak of a drawn bowstring, and a voice saying, “Leave it.”
You turn, to see three more bandits standing behind you – not the ones from the inn, but a fresh trio, all armed and all looking very unhappy. One has a crossbow, pointed right at you. You realise now what made you nervous before: the cave, the campfire, the sheer amount of loot – all were far too large for just three people. And the bandit you fought, who steps around to join his friends with a cruel smile on his face, didn’t even break his word. He brought you here. You have only yourself to blame for assuming there would be nobody else there.
You could run. Dodge the first arrow and you could be away before the second is loosed. You could even try to fight, again assuming you’re not shot – you have a proper blade now as well as your blunt sword. Or you could surrender, and hope that you are considered worth some sort of ransom, instead of just a slit throat.
What do you do?
Whoever said this was a bad idea… yeah. Votes below.
