That is not something I can abide.

As the last of the guards fell, a cheer erupted across the camp.

The battle was won.

Fiona looked as if she were about to cry from relief.

'This is no time to linger.' Boots asserted, there was still much to be done.

"Fiona," Boots said softly, stroking her shoulder.

"I'm all right," she said with a quick smile, wiping her eyes, "I'd better get on with these cages."

She quickly trotted over to the sword that Magar had left behind and set about cutting the ropes that were binding the townsfolk.

"You two," Boots called out to Roman and Simeon, "Grab a knife or something sharp, help us free these people. Oswald, come with me."

Roman and Simeon gave a quick nod his way before applying themselves immediately to the task. A sign of seasoned veterans; used to following orders.

This immediately scored some points with Boots. He respected that sort of thing.

Oswald, however, was stood staring at the body of the man he had just killed, oblivious to Boots's command.

"Oswald! Snap out of it!" Boots shouted in his most authoritarian voice, "We need to search the camp, get over here!"

"Yes sir!" Oswald spouted, jumping as if being woken from a dream. He gathered himself with a shake of the head and jogged to Boots's side.

"Good," Boots patted him firmly between the shoulder blades, nearly knocking him over, "It's best not to linger on such things."

Together they set about exploring the camp. Turning over boxes and opening barrels, searching for anything of note, or any potential dangers.

However unlikely it may be, they could not ignore the possibility of an enemy hiding within the camp, waiting to flee or strike.

It was also important to gather intelligence and to take a rough stock of what equipment could be used in a pinch.

All of this seemed almost second nature to Boots.

He couldn't quite put a finger on why.

The harder he thought about it the more illusive the reason seemed to be.

Perhaps it was something to do with his previous lives, Fenix had mentioned something like that.

Either way Boots considered it pointless to think about. He simply knew what to do, that was good enough for him.

"Oswald…" Boots began, surveying the scene.

"M-hmm" Oswald acknowledged with a grunt, pulling the lid off of yet another barrel of grain.

"In your experience, would you say it's normal for a snatchers party to be hoarding all this food?" he gestured to the large pile of supplies before them.

"I… I suppose I wouldn't be too sure," he paused, doing some unseen calculation in his head, "It's only a three-day trip to Javos on a cart, probably five on foot. Even if they fed the prisoners well, which isn't historically what they're known for. Travelled on foot and ate three times a day. They'd not even get through a quarter of this."

"Interesting." Boots muttered, stroking his chin.

Something very puzzling was going on.

Were the snatchers thieves? Were they perhaps tasked with multiple duties? Who did they answer to in the chain of command? What was the intended use for the supplies?

He felt like a much larger scheme was starting to unravel, but only slightly, in his mind.

'I don't have enough information yet.' he concluded, eyeing the most recently freed villager disembarking the cart.

He looked to be a wizened old handbag of a man, barely standing five feet tall, hunched over as he was. Surely a town elder of some sort. Perhaps he could shed some light on the situation. Boots considered.

Questioning the villagers was sure to yield results. But for now, he had a search to complete. Everything must be done in order after all.

***Fiona***

Fiona finally sliced through the knots of rope binding the last of the captured villagers to the cage. Wiping some sweat from her brow she mingled amongst the elated townsfolk exchanging repeated hugs, handshakes, and warm thanks.

By her best guess there were around thirty people crammed into all those cages.

How awful!

What on earth could be happening up in town for this many people to be snatched?

Finally, she laid her eyes on the person she'd been looking for.

"Roman!" she exclaimed, rushing over and wrapping her arms around the waist of her big brother.

"Wh-ah, there you are!" Roman said, squeezing her tightly, "I thought I might have been dreaming when I saw you open our cage."

Fiona simply nodded her head, fighting the urge to cry in her brother's warm embrace.

"Are you ok?" asked Roman, stroking the back of her head gently.

"…"

Roman could surely feel the wet patches beginning to form on his shirt from Fiona's muffled sobs. But he didn't speak of it. Instead deciding to simply stand there in silence with her for a moment.

They were just another pair amidst the excited townsfolk. Everyone was both celebrating and crying tears of joy in equal measure.

Spirits ran high in the small camp, a few people headed towards the collection of crates and barrels that had already been inspected. In search of food no doubt.

All they needed was some wine and the commotion could be mistaken for a small festival.

Boots and Oswald had moved into the tent to finish their search.

"You were very brave today." Roman said, genuine pride in his voice, "I expect Dad will lay an egg when we tell him of your heroism!"

Fiona giggled pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.

"But how are you here Fio?" Roman said with a hint of incredulity, "I am genuinely amazed, if not concerned, that I've been rescued by my little sister. I really thought I was done for, I honestly can't thank you enough."

"You shouldn't." Fiona shook her head, "It-…"

"Nonsense young lady!" Gerald interrupted, "We all saw how you faced off against that snatcher! The man was a trained swordsman, a warrior! But you held your ground admirably! You bring great pride to the house of Thatcher! I expect people to name their daughters after you in the years to come!"

Master Gerald was a town elder, or 'long-whisker' as many locals referred to them. He was quite a respected one at that. Local rumours say he trained at the Tower of Nimbus when he was a young man. And that he fought in many wars, in countries that no longer exist.

He stood around five feet tall and carried a cane on most occasions, although he seems to have made do with an acceptable stick for the time being. His fur was completely white, all former traces of colour had been eroded with age. Fiona didn't know how old he was but some of the meaner children would say he was three hundred years old. She didn't think he was that old. But he was incredibly old.

"I appreciate it Master Gerald, but it wasn't ju-"

'Bonk!' Gerald tapped her firmly on the head with his stick

"O-ow!" Fiona winced.

"I know it wasn't just you! I'm old, not blind!" Gerald said staring into her soul with his wintery blue eyes. "Your brother and his friend rolling around in the dirt with those guards might be commendable, but it is the sort of thing they are trained for!"

He gestured briefly to the two men, who were both nodding, before continuing.

"They've spent years training for such occasions. Are they brave? Of course! But even their bravery pales in comparison to yours tonight! To be truly brave, Miss Fiona, to be truly courageous, you must be truly afraid. Because courage doesn't exist without fear." he clasped her hand in his.

"You stood today against a far stronger opponent, despite your fear, you could have abandoned us all. But you chose to stay, engaging in a battle you had no right to win. That is true courage Miss Fiona. You are not unworthy of our praise." he smiled, releasing her hand.

Fiona took a look around the crowd that had formed around them. It was filled with smiling faces.

She suddenly felt quite flushed.

"Three cheers fo-…ow!" Roman started before being pinched quite hard by a very embarrassed looking Fiona.

The crowd burst into laughter.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" Boots interrupted, as the noise died down a bit.

He and Oswald had returned, Oswald had a small crate filled with what appeared to be maps, messages and various other trinkets.

The crowd's attention shifted towards the pair.

"Greetings to you all, my name is Boots. We need to have a discussion about what comes next."

***Roman***

Most of the crowd elected to sit around the campfire on an assortment of boxes and crates that they had brought over from the carts. To listen to the discussion.

Fiona had briefly explained to the group how she had met Boots up by the shrine and taken him in at the farm.

Roman strongly suspected she was leaving some key details out, but he didn't question her.

Then Boots took over, explaining his meticulous plan and his role within it. Although he didn't go into very much detail about how exactly he dealt with the five men who went to chase him down in the woods.

He simply said that once he was finished with the men that came after him he returned to the camp to find the battle won.

'What kind of explanation is that!' Roman thought to himself in disbelief.

'He can't just kill five men and act as if that's normal!'

There must have been some trick to it. Roman surmised. Although, by looking at Boots it was clear to see who had messed the snatchers up earlier in the day.

Boots stood as tall as Roman, maybe even an inch or two taller. Which was as already saying something, Roman had always been quite proud of his height and was used to being the tallest guy in the room. But he felt small compared to Boots, despite the meagre height difference. Maybe it was his build, or the way he spoke, the way his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Roman couldn't quite put his finger on it, it was a strange feeling for him.

What kind of name was 'Boots' anyway? It didn't seem to make any sense, who would call a child 'Boots'?

Boots was wearing quite a nice jacket though. Roman was sure he had one just like it somewhere…

He shook the thought from his head. He was getting distracted.

One thing was clear, he wasn't too sure how he felt about his sister travelling with this guy. He seemed dangerous and certainly had the capacity for terrific violence. It made Roman uneasy. What if he directed that violence towards his sister?

The thought sickened him.

But he was getting distracted again, he needed to follow this conversation. Shaking his head once more he listened in to the discussion.

"So, myself and Oswald then searched the camp. We found a few maps and other pieces of intelligence." Boots said, cueing Oswald to present the crate to the group.

"But the main thing I'd like to know at this point," Boots continued, "is why on earth these snatchers are sitting on a market's worth of produce."

"Gods, you haven't heard, have you?" Roman interjected, with a twinge of disbelief.

Boots directed a puzzled look his way.

"Fenniton burns." Roman said bitterly.

"What!" said Fiona aghast.

"The royal tithe," explained Gerald, "King Pino was apparently unsatisfied with the amount of food we offered. He means to make an example of us."

A sombre mood enveloped the group.

"He plans to destroy everything and build anew. With a fresh batch of slaves to fuel his workforce." Gerald said flatly, "Look upon the horizon, you can see the fires from here."

Everyone's attention was briefly directed towards the heavens, where a slight orange-amber glow flickered against smoke on the sky.

"This is the last town of Felinians in Raxia. Pino would see us all slaves." Gerald finished, deflated.

"That is not something I can abide." said Boots.