[Albion Plane, Porfield Kingdom, Mount Thor, White Lion Stronghold]
The return to the mountain stronghold was a grim, silent procession.
Greem's biochip ran a constant, low-level analysis of the returning fighters.
[Target Acquired: Human Male. Threat Assessment: Low. Analyzing...]
[Name - Ulgar | Strength: 1.6 | Agility: 0.8 | Vitality: 0.9 (1.2) | Skill: White Lion Swordsmanship (30). Status: Fatigue, Light Wound (-25% Vitality)]
[Target Acquired: Human Male. Threat Assessment: Medium. Analyzing...]
[Name - Tony | Strength: 1.6 | Agility: 1.4 | Vitality: 0.75 (1.5) | Skill: White Lion Swordsmanship (45). Status: Wounded (-50% Vitality)]
Tony was a rival squad leader in the White Lion Bandit Group. For a long time, Tony considered Greem to be too young to be a bandit, much less a bandit squad leader. However, Greem's efficiency was known to all. Subduing Jask and Albert, two known trouble-makers of the group, and absorbing them in his squad was something no leader attempted before.
After all, to conserve leadership, one needed loyal followers.
Yet Greem managed to do so. The other three subordinates, namely Vanessa, Brutus and Tyrus were above-average too, by the bandit group's standards.
The hidden path wound up through treacherous cliffs.
[Topographical Analysis: Defensive advantage 98%. Natural choke points at 200m and 450m. Optimal for ambush defense.]
As they passed through the final, heavily guarded gate, the world opened up into the high mountain basin.
This was no mere camp. It was a fortress village. Greem's eyes, enhanced by his chip, scanned the environment, cataloging everything, a habit he built to notice the differences. A new log cabin being built, newcomers, perhaps a change in the group's politics.
[Habitat Analysis: Sustainable settlement detected.]
-Structures: 87 log cabins (sturdy, reinforced). Population estimate: 450-520
-Industry: 1 active smithy (weapon/armor production). 2 communal kitchens (operational)
-Agriculture: Livestock pens (Species: Ovis aries, Sus domesticus). Count: 42, 28. Health: Decent.
-Storage: 4 large granaries, 3 smokehouses. Estimated sustainability: 6-8 months.
This was Alicia's vision: not just a den of thieves, but a self-sustaining fortress, a haven for those who lived by the blade. Her opinion was that as long as the families of bandits were not protected, the loyalty of her men would be wavering. In this stronghold, the life of their closed ones was bound. Betrayal would mean not just the death of the person, but that of his whole family.
Alicia was the heiress of a fallen knight household. Her full name was Alicia Von Valetta. Escaping an arranged marriage with a handful of retainers, she ironically escaped death instead. Her family's domain was attacked by the Baron Longlost out of pure greed, and they fell within a week, while she was away.
She knew better than to seek revenge out of pettiness. However, she certainly planned to take back her family's castle. Raising a bandit group as strong as the White Lions in five years was no small feat, but even if they had grown to be a decent force, they were far from being able to capture a castle.
Additionally, the growth of the White Lions was not completely organic. She had merged loyalists, mainly retainers and soldiers who swore allegiance to the Valetta family, with two other bandit leaders. Jack, the original founder of the White Lions, bent the knee but his greed was no secret. And Ragnar, a barbarian war slave who accepted Alicia's reign to pay back his freedom. However, just as he was strong, Ragnar was difficult to control.
Ragnar stood atop a wooden platform in the central clearing, a sack in his hand. The raiders gathered around.
[Crowd Analysis: 70% Ragnar-aligned fighters. 15% Alicia loyalists. 15% Jack underlings]
"Look at you!", Ragnar shouted, "You went out as cubs and returned as lions! Oakhaven's wealth is now ours!"
He reached into the sack. The sound of clinking metal was like a trigger.
[Acoustic Analysis: Metallic resonance. Composition: 80% Silver, 15% Copper, 5% unknown alloys. Purity: Moderate.]
He called out names. When it was Greem's turn, he stepped forward. Ragnar counted out twenty heavy silver coins into his palm.
[Economic Analysis: 20 Silver Drakes. Equivalent to: 200 days' standard bandit pay. 5 high-quality steel swords]
Seeing Greem's bewildered eyes at such a rewards, Ragnar smiled: "Remember who gave you coins. Continue to follow me, and you will see more coins than you can count"
Greem was no foul. He knew exactly what Ragnar was doing, what he has always been doing. Indeed, Greem was obsessed by coins. He had always seen it as beyond valuable. Otherwise, he would not have left his village to become a bandit.
As someone who knew poverty, Greem knew better than anyone than those coins could buy more meals than he could count. Hell, if he wanted to, he could retire and purchase his own farm if he wanted to. But Greem no longer aspired to a clean, steady life. He had tasted power, and could not help but want more. The warm weight of the scroll and book in his leather vest had opened yet another door for his growth.
As Greem closed his fingers around the cold and heavy silver, his train of thoughts was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"And who gave you the right to spend our future on a petty raid?"