Chapter 7 Bandits

In the weeks that followed, Rotengen underwent a dramatic transformation. The city, once on the brink of collapse, was now alive with activity. People worked tirelessly to rebuild the infrastructure. With no currency to speak of, Lenny used the abundant grain to pay the workers, a currency of survival in these desperate times. The smell of fresh bread filled the air, and the sound of hammers and saws echoed through the streets. News of Rotengen's revival spread quickly through the region, drawing hundreds of desperate souls seeking shelter and sustenance. The city's population began to swell once more, and Lenny's reputation as a savior and a leader grew with it.

Eager to capitalize on the city's newfound stability, Lenny decided to explore potential resources in the surrounding areas. One day, he set out with Sven, an old miner who had approached him with stories of an abandoned silver mine in the mountains to the north.

"They left the mines to rot years ago," Sven explained as they rode towards the mountains. His face was weathered and lined from years of hard labor, but his eyes still held a spark of determination. "The weather up there is brutal, and the wild animals… well, they're not too friendly either. But I reckon there's still silver down there. Just needs someone with guts to go in and get it."

Lenny listened intently, his curiosity piqued. "Silver, you say? Why was it abandoned in the first place?"

Sven spat on the ground. "A combination of things. The winters were harsh, men were dying from the cold and the beasts. And when the bandits started taking over the roads, the nobles decided it wasn't worth the trouble. But I've seen it with my own eyes—the veins run deep. There's enough silver in those hills."

As they reached the foot of the mountains, Lenny surveyed the area. It was rugged terrain, with steep cliffs and dense forests. The entrance to the mine was partially collapsed, hidden behind a thicket of trees. He dismounted and approached the entrance, feeling a strange pull as he neared the dark opening.

"Here we are," Sven grunted, pointing to the old, rusted gates of the mine. "Abandoned, like I said. But look closer." He crouched down, brushing away some of the dirt and debris to reveal a sliver of silver ore embedded in the rock. "See? There's plenty more where that came from, deeper in."

Lenny knelt down, touching the silver vein with his fingers. His eyes narrowed as he felt a surge of energy. "You're right," he murmured. "There's more here than anyone realizes." He stood up, looking at Sven with a grin. "This could be exactly what we need. A steady supply of silver would bring trade back to Rotengen and give us the resources to defend ourselves."

Sven nodded, a hopeful smile spreading across his face.

Lenny nodded. "We'll need miners, equipment, and protection from the animals and the cold. But it's worth the risk." He turned back to the entrance of the mine. "Let's head back. We have a lot to prepare for."

As Lenny and Sven made their way back to Rotengen, they were unaware of the storm brewing to the north. The death of Rurik, one of the region's most feared warlords, had not gone unnoticed. News of his demise reached his older brother, Thuram, a formidable 3-star knight who had once served in the royal guard. Thuram was furious, unable to believe that his brother had been killed by a mere brat. Consumed by rage, he rallied his men, determined to avenge Rurik and crush anyone who dared stand in his way.

Thuram's army began pillaging and terrorizing the northern regions as they marched toward Rotengen. He had heard of the city's resurgence, and he was determined to stamp out any spark of rebellion. As his army approached the city, he was taken aback by the sight before him. Massive walls, towering and impenetrable, loomed over the horizon, encircling Rotengen like a fortress.

At the base of the newly constructed walls of Rotengen, a group of Thuram's bandits gathered, staring up in disbelief at the massive stone structure that now loomed over them. These men had terrorized the region for years, plundering villages and travelers alike, but never had they encountered anything like this. They were rough men, hardened by a life of raiding and killing, but even they felt a chill as they looked upon the towering fortifications that seemed to rise out of nowhere.

"By the gods, would you look at that!" muttered Khorin, a burly bandit with a scar running across his left cheek. He spat on the ground, his eyes narrowed in a mix of fear and awe. "When did they build this thing? We were just here a month ago, and it was just a ruin!"

Beside him, Grendel, a lanky man with a crooked nose, shook his head, his expression equally stunned. "I don't know, Khorin. But this... this isn't normal. No way they put this up in a few weeks. What is this sorcery."

A third bandit, Vorek, who was older and had seen his fair share of battles, squinted at the top of the wall, where he could see figures moving—guards, archers, and others too distant to make out. "You think it's that prince they've been talking about?" he asked. "The one they say has strange powers? The one who took over this place?"

Khorin grunted, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Could be. There's been a lot of strange talk lately. Storms, fields growing in days... Hell, I heard someone say he raised this wall himself. Ridiculous, if you ask me."

Grendel shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around him as a cold wind blew down from the mountains. "If it's true, if he really has that kind of power, what are we even doing here? Thuram's crazy if he thinks we can just take this city. Look at it! We'd need ten times as many men, and even then..."

"Thuram's not going to just turn back," Vorek interrupted, his tone grim. "Not after what they say this prince did to Rurik. Thuram's out for blood. He wants revenge, and he doesn't care how many of us he has to throw at these walls to get it."

Khorin snorted, shaking his head. "And what about us, then? You think he cares if we get killed trying to climb up there?" He pointed at the wall, his voice rising with frustration. "I didn't sign up to fight some devil prince. We're bandits, not soldiers."

The group fell silent, each man lost in his thoughts as they stared at the imposing walls of Rotengen. The wind howled around them, carrying with it the distant sound of marching feet—Thuram's army, preparing for the assault.

After a moment, Grendel spoke up again, his voice barely a whisper. "Maybe we should just cut our losses and go. Find somewhere else to raid. This… this doesn't feel right. I've got a bad feeling about this place."

Vorek nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the wall. "Yeah, you're not the only one. But you know as well as I do, Thuram won't take kindly to deserters. We're in this now, whether we like it or not."

Marek, stationed in a watchtower atop the walls, spotted Thuram's forces. A grim smile spread across his face as he peered down at the approaching enemy. "So, the mighty Thuram finally decided to show his face," he muttered, sneering at the sight of the camp forming below. "About time."

Thuram, clad in his battle-worn armor, rode up to the gates with a scowl. His piercing eyes scanned the walls before landing on Marek. "Where is the one responsible for my brother's death?" he shouted, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "Send him out, or face the wrath of my army!"

Marek leaned over the edge of the watchtower, his expression a mixture of mockery and disdain. "Your cunt of a brother is dead, Thuram! He died like a pig in the mud, squealing for mercy!" he taunted, spitting over the side of the wall. "And you'll join him soon enough if you're foolish enough to try and breach these walls."

Thuram's face twisted with fury. "Enough of this! I challenge you to a duel, Marek! Come down and face me like a true warrior!"

Marek's grin widened. He was a 2-star knight, a seasoned fighter in his forties, but he knew Thuram was a formidable opponent, stronger and more experienced. Still, Marek was not one to back down from a challenge. "I accept, you bastard!" he shouted back. "I'll make sure to send you to hell myself!"

Just as tensions reached a boiling point, Lenny arrived, his gaze sweeping over the enemy camp. He counted the soldiers—nearly a thousand strong. They were already constructing wooden siege engines, preparing to scale the walls.

A sly grin spread across Lenny's face as he observed their efforts. "Well, would you look at that Sven" he mused aloud, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "Our slaves miners have arrived."