Willing Hostage

The crisp morning breeze carried the smell of freshly planted flower fields through the town. Walls surrounded the area, but they were no more than a simple wooden barricade with outstretched wooden spikes. However, a new construction project was already underway.

Massive eight-brome timbers were being cut and braced together. This new wall was being built around the existing barricade and covered a third of the town so far.

While the loud construction project helped wake up the town, most civilians were already up and at 'em. The budding streets carried more than a dozen traders and traveling merchants. A few inns and hostels had begun to spring up along with restaurants and taverns. And in town square stood the newly finished town hall, complete with a mail center and a counter for civil services.

Next door to the brand new building was the oldest and most make-shift building in town, the barracks of the town guard. It wasn't small but the workmanship was rough at best. There were no holes in the roof or walls, as well as no structural issues. But the unpainted and barely sanded walls of the barracks only looked worse standing beside the pristine, grandiose town hall.

On the steps of town hall, a middle-aged woman took in a deep breath. She was caught up in the site of the town around her. Her mind wandered as old memories blended with the present view, bringing a tear to her eye.

The woman mumbled under hushed breathing, "... Ronner.. We've finally done it…"

"Madam Amma!"

Breaking free of her daydream, the woman laughed and descended the steps. "What is it?"

"Armed bandits have begun surrounding the general store," reported the man, bowing his head in respect. "We're readying a response now, but they've yet to publicly make their goals known."

Nodding, Amma followed the man to the barracks while the report continued.

Down the street near the eastern gate, the largest shop in town was calm. The people inside felt no threat and there were no signs of trouble. There was still a line leading up to the clerk with half a dozen people carrying their desired wares as business was running as usual.

"Hey, give me a hand, won't you?!" someone shouted from the back of the line, alerting everyone in the store.

All eyes turned to the man leading his group of five people. They wore common cloaks but flashed the weapons on their sides. The man wore a mischievous grin, snickering, "See, I'm a VIP client, so get out of the way!"

Shoving a middle-aged woman aside, the man slowly sauntered up to the counter. Most everyone in line backed away as the man drew a knife. The other four people in his entourage pulled out swords and spread out to the four corners of the store's ground floor.

"You, take a clerk upstairs and bring everyone else down," ordered the leader, pointing his knife at the clerk closest to the stairs.

Shakily, an aging man with grey hair stepped to the front of the counter. "Please, sir! Upstairs we only store products. There's no need to be so forceful."

"I saaaid, go clear upstairs!" the man barked, not changing his tone or demeanor in the slightest.

The old man nodded and complied. He motioned to the targeted clerk, who nervously led an armed woman upstairs. In moments, they returned along with two teenage boys wearing work aprons.

"See?! You can't be hiding like this! We're customers, after all!" cackled the leader, still taking his time to approach the counter. "Old man, you own the shop, right? Then hurry up and cough up every drit you've got! We need payment for such terrible treatment by you and your employees."

"Y-yes. But please, don't harm anyone," retorted the owner. "Would you like to come with me as I get the money?"

"Me? Nah, take her!" Pointing at the woman who had checked the upstairs, the leader added, "And don't take too long. Otherwise… We'll have to harm her pretty little neck!"

The leader cackled as he reached for a beautiful young woman from the line. She naturally stood out with her dark blue hair and her clear, light blue eyes.

"Huh? What's wrong with you, old-timer!?"

A man with a head wrap effortlessly stepped in front of the young woman, despite having the top half of his face covered. Without a shred of fear or hesitation, the blind man replied, "If you need a hostage, won't a cripple like me be better?"

"Ohh?! Trying to be noble, huh?" Shrugging, the leader accepted the man's offer and pulled him closer. The bandit held one of the blind man's arms behind his back and threatened the blind man's neck with the dagger. "I don't care who it is, but a compliant hostage always makes this easier."

"Then promise to not touch her."

The leader was surprised to hear the man's request, glancing again at the beautiful young woman. "So you know her? What is she, your granddaughter? We don't have to harm her if you do as your told."

"Promise to not touch her. Then I'll do whatever you ask," repeated the blind man, still showing no fear as he leaned into his wrapped walking stick.

"Picky one, aren't you?" While the owner led the woman bandit to the back room, the bandit leader groaned, "Well… how about this? I promise not to touch her during the heist."

"Promise not to touch her. Period."

Irked by the man's demands, the lead bandit groaned again. The other bandits in the room laughed as their leader pressed the dagger's edge against the man's neck. "HUUUH?! I'm the one making demands here!"

Not caring about the blade against his skin, the blind man turned his head to face the lead bandit. Blood dripped onto the man's grey shirt as the blade barely cut the surface of the man's skin. The lead bandit was stunned as the blind man met his gaze perfectly from under the head wrap.

"Promise." The blind man stated once more, "Promise to not touch her, to not lay a single finger on her throughout your entire life. No half-assed excuses, like 'during the heist' or 'until we get our money'."

With a quivering brow, the bandit leader was tongue-tied. He wasn't even a breath away from the blind man and had a knife to his throat. Yet… the boisterous confidence of the bandit leader vanished in an instant.