Before me was a horseman clad in heavy steel armor. Even through his helmet’s facemask, I could feel that he was glaring at me. Without a word, both of us lowered our lances and charged at each other. 

The rocking of my horse, the breeze brushing by my ears, and the impact from my lance as it slammed into my foe’s chest. Everything felt off. Yet the sound of arrows and the screams felt so real. I could almost make out something from the yelling.

“Bandits!” 

I awoke with a start, sweat dripping down my face. 

“We’ve been surrounded by bandits, everyone to arms!” a guard yelled. 

I immediately leapt up and began putting on my armor. Outside my tent I could hear screams and the whistling of arrows. 

“Shit, there’s not that much time,” I muttered.

I pulled on my gambeson and donned my helmet. Even though I have more armor it would take too long to put it on. After grabbing my bow, quiver, and glaive, I rushed out the tent. 

Our camp consisted of six tents arrayed around a campfire. Besides the largest tent were two wagons laden with goods and ten horses which were neighing wildly. I could hear panicked movements in the other tents, but it seems like I was the first to get ready.

One of the guards that had been keeping watch was crouched behind a pole, trading arrows with the enemy. The other lay on the ground twitching, an arrow protruding from his chest.  

The bandits were clumps of shadows illuminated by the moonlight and their torches. I could make out around a dozen of them. There were about three archers in total with the rest holding a mix of melee weapons. Most were lightly armored, but one or two wore lamellar cuirasses. 

After finding a good position by my tent, I planted my glaive headfirst into the ground. In a fluid motion, I nocked an arrow, drew my bow, then sent my arrow into the face of an unsuspecting archer. 

Noticing this, another archer loosed an arrow at me. I jerked my body aside and the arrow soared past, plunging into the grass. I retaliated with an arrow of my own which buried itself in his chest. 

When I looked behind me, the other members of the caravan had already left their tents. Two other guards emerged with spears and shields in hand to block the approaching bandits. Alongside them were three caravan hands who had shortswords and small shields. The merchant and his two other assistants also appeared with crossbows and began shooting at the approaching bandits. 

Hoping to overwhelm us, the melee armed bandits rushed into our camp. Seven of them faced our group of five. Another engaged the still alive night watchman and one with a lamellar breastplate ran at me.

I dropped my bow, I pulled my glaive out the ground. My opponent faced me with a spear and a large kite shield. Taking advantage of my longer reach, I unleashed a flurry of thrusts at him in hopes of creating an opening. My foe was put on the defensive but skillfully avoided endangering himself. 

Competent as this bandit might be, he had no hopes of winning against me. However, the real issue was the condition of my comrades. If I couldn’t quickly defeat this man and aid my allies, they would likely perish. 

I decided to take a risk and pretended to make an opening for my enemy. Out of instinct, my opponent eagerly thrust his spear at my torso just like I had predicted. I easily avoided the blow and used the opportunity to pin his spear to the ground with my own weapon. 

Noticing his predicament, my opponent dropped his spear then charged me with his shield and a drawn dagger in a desperate gamble. I pulled back and thrust my glaive upward into his groin. Blood gushed out from the wound and the man roared in pain. Unceremoniously, I tore my glaive out and swung it in an arc, severing his head.

All around me I heard screams of pain and the clashing of weapons. The remaining night watchman had run his opponent through with a spear and was rushing towards the fight at the edge of the camp. There, a vicious melee was occurring with a bandit and two caravan hands on the ground. The merchant was alive, but one of his assistants lay in a pool of blood from a javelin jutting out his chest. 

I ran towards the melee with glaive in hand and swung my blade at a distracted bandit. The blade found itself between his neck and shoulder, blood gushing out the wound as the man collapsed. 

While my blade was lodged in the dead man’s body, another bandit sprung at me with a mace. I caught the mace with the shaft of my glaive and shoved him backwards. Then one of my fellow guards stabbed his spear into the bandit’s back. 

Seeing the tide of battle shift, the remaining two bandits quickly disengaged and bolted into the night.

The survivors breathed a sigh of relief after realizing that the battle had ended. Of the ten of us that made up the group, four were already dead, another lay dying, and two were wounded. Only me, the night watch guard, and the merchant were largely unscathed.

“Get on your horse and follow me, we need to make sure those bandits don’t alert any possible friends of theirs,” I told the remaining guard. 

The other man and I quickly saddled our horses and began to chase down the two runaways. Because of the moonlight, I could make out one of the enemies turning around and readying his spear. I pulled out my bow and shot an arrow through his skull. His body fell backwards with a thud, while his comrade looked on with horror.

“Please I’ll surrender, don’t kill me!” he wailed. 

“Then drop your weapons and put your hands in the air if you want to live!” I commanded.

The bandit hurriedly tossed away his arming sword and dagger, his body trembling with each action. 

“Alright, let's take him back to our camp. He might have some useful information about bandit activity around here,” I told the other guard.

By the time we got back to camp it was already dawn. The rest of the caravan had finished patching their wounds, stripping bodies of valuables, and were now preparing to cremate the dead. As I was moving towards the center of the camp, a brown haired middle aged man approached me. 

"Ho, so that’s the reason you were taking so long,” the merchant chuckled as he eyed the prisoner. 

“I’m going to interrogate this prisoner,” I said tiredly. “If you need anything let me know,” 

The man gazed at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “There’s no need sir Iblis, I’d rather not interrupt an expert.”