Bandits ambush Tréor and his army

The sun was slowly descending behind the mountains. Its last fiery rays painted the western sky orange. The was cool and the forest was still. Only the small group of soldiers made any sound.

"How long until the castle?" - asked Tréor, riding at the front of his twenty men.

"About an hour my Lord." - replied the captain. - "I'm sure dinner will be ready by then."

"It better be!" - The young lord's mood have been awful in the past weeks, getting worse day-to-day. One would think after the civil war ends, peace would once again rule the land. In reality, however, many former soldiers turned to banditry, roaming the land, turning even the few untouched-by-war places unlivable. As the new lord of House Mirrad, it was Tréor duty to keep his lands safe, but this last group of bandits have been avoiding him for almost a month now. They are just about to finish a five day long search without any success.

As they rode towards the castle, Tréor looked out at the meadow to the right. Looking at the tall grass flowing in the gentle wind, he felt calmness taking over. Suddenly from the forest to their left, a man dressed in rags walked out in front of them.

"P-p-please m-my Lord! - stuttered the man with a frightened look. - "B-bandits!"

The captain jumped off from his horse and rushed to the ragged man. "Where!?" - shouted as he grabbed his arms. - "Where are they now!?"

"R-r" - started the men. Suddenly, he looked up at the captain, with a hateful gaze on his face. - "Right here!" In an instant he whipped out a dagger from under his cloak and showed it into the captain's left arm, and right after he released him, he ran into the forest.

"AMBUUUUUUSH!" - shouted Tréor and the captain simultaneously.

Right after that bandits rushed out from the forest, attacking the tired troops. The bandits outnumbered them at least two-to-one. Before they could react, two soldiers already had their throats slit.

Tréor charged with his horse into the bandits trampling a few of them, while also cutting one down with his sword. The surprised soldiers quickly gathered themselves, attacking back at the bandits. The poorly equipped bandits were soon overpowered and retreated back into the woods. Two of the soldiers wanted to give chase, but Tréor stopped them.

The night was almost here and they could barely see out on the road, much less in the thick forest.

The injured captain walked up to Tréor, covered in blood. As Tréor was about to say something to him, he heard a cry from behind. As he turned around, he saw three more of his men fall. Pierced by arrows.

He quickly looked around and saw a group of archers in the middle of the meadow aiming at them.

"Archers!" - yelled the captain. - "Quickly men" Into the forest!"

"Right now! We have no cover out here!" - shouted Tréor, realizing their situation.

As soon as they entered the forest, they got jumped by bandits, just as he predicted. They managed the first few poorly equipped combatants, but time was clearly against them.

"What now?" - asked Tréor, just as he run through a bandit with his sword.

"We have to do something about the archers first. In this forest, we stand no chance against their numbers." - said the captain, leaning against a tree, holding his bloody arm.

"I have no better idea and we are running out of time!" - yelled the captain. - "You are too important to die in this forest. Now go!"

"Don't die!" - Tréor looked at the captain, then out at the meadow.

He made his way to the edge of the forest, threw himself on the ground and crawled across the small road to the grass. He reachead the grass without problem.

If this crazy plan actually works, I will lose my mind, he thought to himself, as he crawled through the grass. How would I even take out so many archers? There's at least ten of them. And I only have a sword. No thrusts, only cutting, then move to the next. Not get surrounded. Quick movements.

To his surprise he managed to move all the way up to archers. Seven, eight, nine. Nine archers in total. Could have been worse. Now how to take them out. Wait until they loose a volley, then attack as the reload.

"..., Aim, Loose!" - shouted the commander of the archers. The men fired their arrows, then bent down to pick up the next arrow.

At that instant, Tréor sprung up frrom the grass in front of them. His first move was to slice the commander's throat. Poor man didn't even know what was happening. Then he immediately moved to the rightmost man, who was just about to pick up an arrow. He sliced him across the chest and with the same move, cut the next archer across the left thigh. The next move finished him.

By now the rest of the archers dropped their bows and pulled out their blades. The unorganized, poorly equipped, surprised man stood little chance against the combat trained castle lord. He made quick work of the next two bandits, one-by-one.

With only four remaining, they rushed Tréor all at once. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blades of the enemy. He immediately counterattacked, aiming for the man closest to him. He cut him in the arm and as he quickly grabbed the wound, Tréor sliced him across the stomach, finishing him. As another was just about to attack him, he quickly run him through.

The last two bandits looked gleefully at the unarmed man. One of them attacked immediately. Tréor jumped back, avoiding the attack, then jumped back again. He picked up a blade from one of the fallen archers. It was dull, rusty and poorly balanced. No wonder they were faling like flies. He rushed his attacker. First move brushed his opponet's blade aside. Second move cut his throat.

Seeing this, the last bandit threw away his weapon and rushed to the forest. Tréor picked up a bow and an arrow. He aimed for the running man. He is running in a straight line. Bad idea. He loosed the arrow. Clean hit between the shoulder blades. The runner fell to the ground. Tréor quickly freed his bleed from the bandit it got stuck in. He rushed to the man he just shot. He wanted to interrogate him, to ask how many of them there are, but by the time he arrived he already died. He rushed on to the forest where his men were still fighting.

By the time he arrived, the remaining eight men already were outside the forest, fighting off the bandits. With the aid of Tréor, they made quick work of the remaining bandits, but not before losing one last man.

"Where's the captain!?" - shouted Tréor.

"Dead, my Lord." - replied a tired, elderly soldier.

With the wounded patched, they continued their journey to the castle. Just as the first rays of the rising sun pierced the clouds, the remaining soldiers arrived at Castle Mirrad.