Bog Standard Isekai

Book 3. Chapter 32

“Nah, I don’t care about that at all,” Hogg said when Brin got back to camp. He was sitting on a camp chair next to the bonfire, which had dwindled down to coals.

“What? I thought that’s why you sent me out there.” Brin paused, and when he felt the tingle of sound magic that meant Hogg was blocking their conversation, he continued. “We know where the bandits are now, in a way that we can plausibly explain without mentioning your Visible Eyes.”

“I sent you out there so that Sion could save Zilly from dying of exposure,” said Hogg. “Go to bed.”

Instead of doing that, Brin sat on an empty stool nearby. Marksi was asleep in his arms, so it was a relief to let him down on his lap. “We’re really just going to ignore them?”

“What do you think you’re going to do when you find them?” Hogg asked.

“Uh… defeat them… I guess. You know, you can be strangely pacifistic at times. I mean, they’re bandits.”

“Sure, and bandits are bad. If they attacked us I’d slaughter them all with a clean conscience and sleep like a baby afterwards, no problem. But I don’t have to go around hunting down everyone who does things I don’t agree with. The only thing you get from living that life is a head full of bad memories.”

Brin looked around for a stick to poke the coals with. Every good campfire should have a stick, but he didn’t see one nearby. No, he wasn’t going to use his spear. He sighed. “Don’t you think this is a little weird? Why’d they stick around? When one of the women in Sudd’s Bog saw one of the bandits' faces, she was able to get the whole group outlawed– How’s that work, by the way?”

“Huh. I guess you’ve never met an [Artist] have you? Well, there are portrait Skills that can make a reliable image off another person’s description. Cities big enough to have an organized Watch will usually have one or two on staff.”

“Ok, so this entire adventurer’s party has been identified as bandits. So why are they still hanging around? Why not head to the other side of Frenaria, or even cross into Prinnash?”

Hogg hesitated, then said, “I’ll admit, that’s got me a tad curious, too. Times like this I really miss my light magic. There’s only so much snooping I can do with eyes that can’t go completely invisible. But we’re not going after them tonight.”

Nothing sounded better than a date with his bedroll right then, so Brin decided to take that as an answer. And maybe this was for the best. Despite all the violence and dangerous situations he’d lived through, nothing stuck out in his mind more than stabbing Bianca and then Siphani to death. Killing people really was different. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to put himself through that again.

His unconscious mind disagreed, though, because as soon as he fell asleep he felt nothing but frustration and outrage at their lack of action.

[Know What’s Real] let him know he was in a nightmare almost the instant after he fell asleep. His mind filled in the gaps of Zilly’s story about Sudd’s Bog. Women had been kidnapped for ransom, but in this nightmare it was for something else. When it became clear that his mind was going to torture him with an image of a violent molestation, he started to wake himself up.

The nightmare immediately pulled back, and untethered by [Know What’s Real], Brin drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

That morning, he woke to the sound of running feet. Members of the caravan were dashing around grabbing weapons, packing up the camp, and pushing the wagons into a defensive circle. Were they under attack? He didn’t see any signs of fighting.

Hogg appeared and nudged him in the side with his foot. “Get up. We’re going after them.”

It didn’t take long for Brin to scramble out of bed, adjust his clothes, and retrieve his spear. Marksi didn’t seem to want to budge from his bedroll, apparently still tuckered out from his late night last night.

“It’s fine, leave him. Half the camp is going to stay to protect the caravan, while the rest of us go find those bandits.”

“But I thought we had decided–”

“Things change,” said Hogg.

Brin left it at that. It was one thing to mute a conversation when you were casually walking on a normal day or when you were talking near hundreds of sleeping people late at night, but having a silenced conversation now in the middle of an emergency would cause more attention than it was worth.

Hogg must’ve gotten some new information from his Visible Eyes about the bandits, which changed his mind about attacking the bandits. For now, that’s all Brin needed to know.

Some would need to leave the caravan to attack the bandits, and some would need to stay. The two groups organized themselves with startling efficiency, guided by Pio’s shouts and nudges from Jeffrey’s music. Hogg, Pio, and Jeffrey led the group to find the bandits, along with Brin, Myra, Sion, and a dozen guards. Zerif stayed behind because his [Caravan Master] Skills would work best to protect everyone if he stayed near the caravan. Davi stayed behind as well, so that both groups would have a [Bard] if they needed one.

Jeffrey began to play in earnest, and Brin immediately felt the [Bard’s] power enter his body. He felt lighter, more energetic, and clear headed. He suddenly wanted to run, and that desire was soon satisfied.

They dashed into the forest. It felt nice to run freely, guided by the thrill of Jeffrey’s song and buoyed by the energy it gave him. He also felt something else, something from him and not pushed into him from Jeffrey’s song. Nostalgia, and a twinge of homesickness.

He hadn’t been much for cardio in his old life, but whenever he did hit a treadmill, it was always with headphones in his ears playing music. It was strange to be back there, just a bit, doing something so ordinary.

Of course, this body was nothing like the flabby body he’d tried to tone up in his old life. He didn’t feel any ounce of tiredness in his limbs, and wouldn’t even if Jeffrey weren’t playing his music. He hadn’t even started to breathe heavily yet. In his old life, he’d start breathing heavily walking up a single flight of stairs.

The nostalgia faded. That old life was so different from this it was practically alien.

Sion was having a harder time. “How excellent, to be making this trip again so soon. Now I see why you Hammon’s Boggers are so fit.”

“Don’t compare yourself to me and Myra. We’re not normal for Hammon’s Bog, we’re the best of the best,” said Brin.

Myra was barely having a better time than Sion. She cursed as she tore her dress out of a bramble for the seventh time. “Don’t compare me to battle maniacs like Brin, Davi, and Zilly. I’m a normal person.”

Sion nodded, and kept running, panting under the weight of his backpack.

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“You know, you didn’t have to bring all your luggage,” said Brin.

“I’m not worth anything without it,” said Sion.

“What are you talking about? You were pretty handy with that spear last night.”

“I stabbed animals bound and kept motionless by Myra’s ropes. What did you see that you could call handy?”

Brin shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all you need. Hey, do you guys wonder what we’re even doing here? Hogg could take care of this himself if he wanted here, whether there's twenty bandits or a hundred.”

Myra answered. “But do they know that? Hogg likes to keep his status hidden. He’d actually have to slaughter them all. With all of us, there’s a chance they’ll surrender.”

They ran on. Zilly met up with them soon after. She fell in beside Hogg and Jeffrey, and quickly started gesturing to show them where the bandit camp should be. Hogg handed her an apple, which she ate while running.

Despite being out of breath, Sion kept pace and never asked for a break. Neither did any of the others, though none of them were as loaded down as him.

After a while, Brin thought he started to recognize the part of the forest where Zilly had led him. He wondered if they were going to stop so they could make a plan, or at the very least slow down and approach quietly. Jeffrey kept the pace fast, though, so the bandits must’ve already moved away from their original camp.

“What? No, that’s wrong!” Zilly shouted. Hogg asked her something, and she responded, though Brin couldn’t make out what they were saying. Whatever she said, Hogg just nodded like he expected it.

All at once, they burst into the bandit camp. He pulled out his spear, swinging it around while he spun, looking for his first enemies.

A few campfires were still smoking. He saw a few blankets and tents, a pile of chicken bones and vegetable peelings and other detritus. As for the bandits–there were four.

Four men sat on the ground, empty hands in the air. No, not men. They were all his age. Three fourteen-year-olds, and one seventeen-year-old. The oldest looked like their leader, and had a cocksure grin on his face. The other three looked frightened.

How could they be bandits? They were kids. He should’ve expected this, though. His modern world liked to talk about “child soldiers” like they were something abnormal, but he’d known different. He’d read enough history to know that the vast majority of the wars of mankind were fought by mid-teenagers. But it was one thing to know that, and it was another thing to see it. Hollywood had given him the mental image of “bandit” as an ugly, stupid, middle-aged white dude with lots of scars and missing teeth. The heroes of any story definitely never slaughtered their way through a group of fresh-faced teenagers.

He’d come here for a fight, but he was glad they’d surrendered.

Hogg stomped over and grabbed the oldest by the collar, lifting him into the air. “Where are the rest of them?”

[Inspect] called this one Rye. His mocking smirk never left his face. “We’re all there are. This is the whole crew.”

“Don’t screw with me, kid,” said Hogg. “There are five campfires here.”

“We wanted one each. And a spare.”

Hogg growled. “Who tipped you off?”

“I have no idea what you mean. As you can see, you took us completely by surprise,” said Rye.

“You’re going to tell me who tipped you off. You’re going to tell me where the others went,” said Hogg.

“No,” said Rye.

“No,” agreed Jeffrey. “You’re going to tell me. Would you all mind giving me some space?”

The suggestion was difficult to ignore, and Brin found himself turning away with the rest of the guards before he even realized that Jeffrey had compelled him. His mental resistance was good enough that he could probably stand his ground, but decided not to. He didn’t want to feel the aftershock of whatever magic Jeffrey was going to use on those kids.

They walked far enough that they could only barely hear the music that Jeffrey played. It was calming and sweet, like the feeling of laying on your back in the summer sun and watching the clouds go by.

He looked around to Myra and Sion and the rest of the guards, and felt a sudden bond with all of them. They’d all run together into the forest towards uncertain danger. In the end, they hadn’t needed to fight, but that didn’t matter. They’d been willing to, and that was what mattered. There was a bond here now, a camaraderie. He could trust these people. He didn’t know all their names, but that didn’t stop the fellowship he felt.

He knew it was the music making him feel this way, but he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to. Maybe if it had been uncomfortable emotions, he would’ve blocked them out, but this didn’t feel bad at all.

The only thought that chilled him was when he realized that this was the side-effect of faintly heard music through the trees. How much stronger was the full effect up close?

Hogg had stayed behind to hear the answer to Jeffrey’s question. His mental resistance must be through the roof.

Eventually the music faded. The guards nearby dried their tears.

Finally, Jeffrey and Hogg returned through the forest, guiding along the four bandits. They looked dazed and stunned.

“Would you mind binding their wrists?” Jeffrey asked Myra. “They won’t try to flee, but I feel like certain appearances must be kept up. If they aren’t bound, then how will everyone know they’re captives?”

Myra rushed to obey.

Hogg turned to the rest of them. There was no sign on his face that Jeffrey’s overwhelming music had bothered him in the least. “The rest of you head back over there and take apart that camp. Look for anything buried, and take anything that can sell. It’ll go into your bonus.”

Brin rushed with the others to obey, grateful for the distraction. They found blankets and tents, but nothing else of value. The other bandits hadn’t left behind so much as a copper cooking pot or flint for making a fire. If the caravan hadn’t decided to come get these guys, he wondered how they would eat.

The trip back was a lot less rushed. Most people trudged along numbly, still working through the powerful emotions that Jeffrey had made them feel. He didn’t play music for the return trip, which made it a silent affair.

Eventually, Zilly, Hogg and Jeffrey drifted a bit ahead of the rest of them, and when he saw them, Zilly tilted her head to indicate that he should join them.

He trotted up ahead.

“There were more. There were twenty. I know there were. Brin saw it!” Zilly said.

“We know,” said Hogg.

“What did they tell you?” asked Brin.

Jeffrey answered. “Very little. The decision makers never told these four anything. Probably for this very scenario.”

“That Rye guy seems awfully smug about all this. Why’s he acting like he won here? They’re going to hang him in Oud’s Bog,” said Brin. “Oh. He thinks he’s going to get rescued, doesn’t he.”

Hogg barked a laugh. It was strangely foreign sounding in the still morning air. “No. Check their Classes.”

Brin did. Two [Farmers], a [Butcher], and Rye was a [Gatherer].

“Common Classes,” said Brin.

“Yep. Common Classes get extra leniency. They’ll be trotted out to some little Bog town and placed under supervision.”

“That’s insane,” said Brin.

“Is it? Common Classes are too valuable to waste if there’s any chance of reform. Most bandits have Rare Classes. That’s sort of the motivation, right? You can’t get experience in town; you don’t want to sign your life away with an army of mercenaries. So you fight monsters. Except monsters are dangerous. Humans are easier, and humans have money. That’s an added bonus.”

“I would never do that!” said Zilly.

Brin shook his head at her. “No one was even looking at you, Zilly. Guilty conscience much?”

Zilly stuck her tongue out at him, then looked at Hogg. “So how are we going to find them?”

Hogg shrugged. “We’ll find them or we won’t. If you spot them again, come running. Don’t wait for one of us to find you, come running to the caravan. Otherwise, I’m more interested in who tipped them off.”

“It wasn’t me!” said Zilly.

Brin chuckled. “Again, no one is even looking at you. Did you have something you wanted to tell us?”

Zilly glared at him. “I mean I didn’t tip them off even by accident. I was careful.”

“I believe she is correct,” said Jeffrey. “These boys had no idea who was really leading the group, but they did have an inkling that it was someone from the outside. The plans changed too suddenly, with too little explanation or discussion for them to have been moving independently. They wouldn’t have fled from one [Rog– ahem. [Warrior]. They must’ve known you contacted the caravan.”

“Someone from inside the caravan tipped them off,” Hogg said. “That’s the part I’m interested in. That’s the part that makes this my business. Someone highly-placed in the caravan is working with the bandits.”

Brin frowned. “Who did you tell about them last night? After I told you?”

“I didn’t tell a soul,” said Hogg. “Myra?”

“She went straight to bed, I saw.”

Brin looked behind, and saw Sion watching. He tilted his head to indicate he should join them.

Sion walked up, eyeing Jeffrey with a bit of nervousness.

“Hey, so after we got back, who did you tell about the bandits?” Brin asked.

“I told only Pio, and then went straight to bed. Honest,” said Sion. “Pio promised to tell Zerif, and no-one else.

Brin chuckled ruefully. So they were back to this, huh? These detective games of suspicion and intrigue were starting to feel way too familiar. Well, this was simpler than finding the [Witches] in Hammon’s Bog. Rather than have to suspect an entire town for possible culprits, they’d already narrowed it down.

There was a traitor in the caravan. Zerif, Pio, or of course, his new friend Sion.

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