Decades ago, back when my mother was even younger than the youngest of my sisters is now, she and my grandmother went to some formal event in the next territory over. Nothing particularly special, just one of those things that one tends to get forced to attend after achieving a certain level of social status.

And some way or another, the route that they were taking back home got leaked to a bandit gang.

Upon receiving this information, said bandits had the brilliant idea of holding the two of them for ransom... but they were were also too fucking stupid to understand that ransoming only works when the hostages are actually safe.

So instead of doing the logical thing and stopping the carriage that my mother and grandmother were taking through threats of violence, their first move was to hit it with an attack spell that blew the damned thing apart.

Killing my grandmother in the process.

Now my mother was successfully ransomed and returned home safely (I obviously wouldn't be here otherwise), but the trauma of seeing her mother murdered in front of her still had lasting effects.

First off, it completely destroyed her relationship with my grandfather. She blamed him for not sending them with proper escorts to keep them safe, for letting the bandits get away with the ransom money instead of immediately having them hunted down and slaughtered... and most of all, she viewed his negligence in properly dealing with the bandit infestation in the first place as the primary cause of everything that happened.

It's clear as day to anyone who's seen the two of them interact that she has absolutely no love for the man, but I'm pretty sure that she doesn't outright hate him.

No, her hatred is directed at bandits.

All bandits.

She slaughters them on sight.

Personally.

To the point where I'm pretty sure that bandit hunting is her favorite hobby. And as most parents do, she made a point of sharing said hobby with her children.

I was ten years old when she dragged me along on my first bandit raid.

The sight of what seemed to my innocent baby mind like a thousand gigantic beasts, sneering and taunting us with promises of all sorts of obscenities...

...of my mother, slicing into waves of men with a massive sword that was longer than she is tall...

...of her reaching out to me after it was all over, smiling triumphantly while drenched in their blood...

...I used to get nightmares about it.

Not of my mother, of course.

I'm talking about the aftermath of what they did.

Of men, maimed and/or killed in a futile attempt to protect those important to them.

Of women, huddled together out of fear of those things returning to commit more atrocities onto them.

Of children, both boys and girls, exactly as traumatized as the women for the exact same reason.

The realization that such evil is allowed to exist in this world was enough to fill my ten-year-old mind with existential terror.

And even to this day, it still makes me sick.

Bandits aren't people.

They're fucking vermin.

Let one go and they'll just run off to multiply and cause even more problems in the future.

That's why I don't complain when my mother drags me along on her periodic bandit hunts.

It's also why, when I take escort missions like these, a tiny little part of me is actually happy when bandits show up.

Because it means that there'll be less of them around to prey on others. Because I-

"Brigitte."

"!?"

...shit, now isn't the time to be getting lost in thought.

"Sorry," I give Yahanaseara's hand another squeeze, "I'm good now."

After a couple of deep breaths to calm down the urge to just fly out there and do something reckless, I slide towards the front of the cart.

"Hey," I call out to the driver.

"Hey yourself," he replies, just as friendly as ever. "If you need to take a break, we'll-"

"Listen up and stay calm," I cut him off. "There's a large group approaching from the east."

"Wha-"

His face goes pale.

"You don't think..."

"Given the fact that I'm able to feel their killing intent from all the way here, I'm pretty sure they are."

The driver's friendly expression instantly hardens, and he starts muttering curses under his breath.

"What do you think we should do?" he asks.

"Signal to the others to stop," I reply, "I'll take care of the rest."

Doing exactly as I asked, he proceeds to shift a long, red-painted wooden plank from a hidden position behind his seat to a highly-visible vertical one.

And as the cart gradually begins to decelerate, I grip my staff and make sure my footing is secure before finally standing up in the still-moving vehicle.

Where are they... there.

I might not be able to see you fuckers, but your location is still as clear as day.

"Pinpoint Pinion."

After a quick invocation of one of the spells recorded in my staff, I point it in the direction of our oncoming quarry.

The arrow that comes flying right towards my face immediately afterwards is proof that the fuckers took my ba-

whap

My heart damn near stops as Yahanaseara launches herself in front of me and snatches the arrow out of the Goddamned air with her bare hand before it even gets within range for my spell to take effect.

"YOU DARE!?"

Both her "normal" human voice and her crackling "true" voice, overlaid in a shout of indignant rage.

Then she leans forward-

oh shit

"Wait!"

Thankfully, I manage to grab her arm before she can take off.

And after a couple of seconds that feel like forever, she finally stops resisting and steps back down from the edge of the cart.

"They meant to kill you," she mutters, her back still to me. "Release me so that I may-"

"No," I shake my head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you're still in no condition to-"

"They meant to KILL you."

Sparks flicker in the air around her.

"I cannot let this sta-"

"Yahanaseara."

Her pull suddenly weakens.

"I need you to cooperate with me here."

"..."

She finally stops resisting entirely, just in time for the cart to come to a complete stop.

As for the rest of the caravan, its various carts shift from our previous straight line formation into what is clearly a practiced cluster formation. After the last of them comes to a halt, I hop down from the one we're riding and motion for Yahanaseara to follow me as I make my way to the carriage where Nils is.

Okay, Brigitte.

Time to show your stuff.

"That just now..." I glance back at Yahanaseara, "...I provoked them on purpose."

"That much was obvious, but they still-"

"I wasn't in any actual danger," I cut her off. "Whatever they did would've been deflected, which would in turn force them to tread carefully since now they'd know that there's at least one passenger on this caravan who isn't a pushover."

"...oh," she mumbles. "I apologize for interfering."

"Meh, I appreciate the concern," I reply, flashing a smile. "Besides, your catching that arrow had the exact same effect."

It was also a bit of a treat for the eyes... I've never actually seen someone successfully pull a move like that before.

"I'm gonna need you to follow my lead exactly from here on out though," I say.

"Very well," she nods.

As one might expect of the caravan leader, Nils's carriage is smack-dab in the middle of the formation itself, with lots of meatshields in every direction. His driver eyes the two of us as we approach, with a mix of anxiety and anticipation in his eyes.

knock knock

"Y- yes!?"

Nils peeks out at us through a barely-cracked door.

"C'mon out, we only have like like three minutes tops to get ready before we're in proper attack range. Less than that if they're using magic."

"Th- that soon!?"

The middle-aged man damn near falls out of the cart, just barely catching himself on the way down.

"W- what are we going to do!?" he stammers.

"Quit wasting time and come on," I say, motioning with my staff for him to follow us.

"Er... what?"

"As the caravan leader, your active participation in these initial negotiations is of the utmost importance."

"Ne- negotiations!? Me!?"

Yes, you.

After all, I can't do this without proper bait.