After a couple of hours of walking, he noticed the sky beginning to darken, hinting that night was approaching.
Suddenly, he spotted something in the distance.
He squinted, trying to make it out. The familiar shapes of the caravan came into view, but something was wrong.
The caravan was in ruins. With bodies scattered among the wreckage.
"Boss, someone is coming!" one of the bandits scouts hiding reported, his voice cutting through the laughter as they celebrated their success.
The bandit leader squinted into the darkness , his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his sword.
He stood tall, trying to project confidence even though he had no idea who was brave enough to approach them.
"How many?"
"Just one, boss," the lookout replied.
"Only one ?" The leader of the bandits, a tall man with unkempt hair and wearing worn leather armor, laughed, but it wasn't out of malice—rather, amusement.