“Sir, we have a problem,” the guard at the door stated as he stuck his head inside the crudely put-together shack. There wasn’t much inside the shack besides a cot, a crude table, two chairs, and the man sitting at the table.
The man was rather unremarkable. He was not quite six feet tall, with sandy blond hair, hazel eyes with black bags under them, and the beginnings of a scruffy beard on his cheeks and chin. He looked up and fixed the guard with a low-burning stare. “If you bring one more problem to me, I’m going to throw myself on the mercy of the Saorsa.” When the guard merely raised an eyebrow, the bandit leader sighed. “What is it, Leorcan?”
The guard eyed the bandit leader for a second, judging his mental and physical state, then whispered. “The lookouts at the top of the rim are reporting a patrol headed in our direction.”
The bandit leader blinked, shocked as he had not received any warnings from his agent in Eola. “How far away are they?” Why didn’t that idiot make a re…
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