Prologue

They never heard them coming. The villagers heard there was a large group of bandits in the area, and had requested help from the royal capital, but the messenger had just gone the day before. The trip to the capital was at least a weeks ride there and back, not to mention the time it would take to mobilize a group large enough to round up the bandits. The village leader woke up to a scream in the distance and smell of burning flesh and wood. He quickly got up and saw his son of twenty years

getting his sword from it's place on the wall. "No!" The village leader said to his son, much to his son's shock. "Go gather the women and children from the houses that's haven't been touched.

By the sounds of it they have only gotten to the outer houses. Go get the women and children that you can, and take them through the woods to the hidden place I showed you when you came of age." The young man turned "What about you Father? Come with me!" The young man pleaded.

The older man shook his head "I am the village leader, what kind of leader abandons his people. No, I will gather the men and stage a counterattack." "Let me come with you then!" The young man said in desperation. "No my son, you must lead the women and children to the safe place." He said with a sad smile, "We will hold them off as long a we can, go!" The young man quickly departed and his father looked at the wall where his armor and picked up his sword form his younger days. "Well old friend," he said "Help me one last time."

*******************************************************************************************************

As the young man ushered the women and children into the woods he looked back in time to see is Father and 20 men charge at the bandits. They were outnumbered by at least a hundred. As He watched he saw his father cleave a path through the bandits slashing left and right as the men with him fell one by one. The village Men weren't fighters with the exception of his Father who had settled down after his years in the King's service. Soon he was the only one left when the bandits retreated and out rode the someone who must have been the leader. He was a large young man not older than he was himself. This leader of the bandits yelled a challenge at his Father. Then he pulled out a large mace, spurred his horse and charged. His father stood there a lone figure surrounded by the bodies of those He once called friends. Exhausted He planted his sword. He had played his part as a distraction so the women and children could escape. He now excepted death with no qualms. His son watched from the edge of the woods, as the bandit leader charged towards his father and with one stroke of the mace his fathers head was knocked off and flew through the air and rolled to a stop 15 meters away. His Fathers knees buckled and his lifeless body fell to the ground. The bandit leader turned his head and laughed. The son of the village leader turned and headed into the woods as tears streaked down his face. He followed his Fathers last wishes and lead the women and children to the the safe place which was a well hid slit in some rocks in the base of a mountain nearby. Stocked with provisions for a situation like this one. It was the village leaders son who would take them to the capital when the bandits left the area.

He was responsible for everyone left. As he sat down after taking care of the others he thought of the bandit leader. That was a face he would never forget.