Black Heart Chapter Thirteen

It might seem nonsensical to assume that Central, the region where the Emperor sat upon the Golden Throne and his close family resided, where there was more money poured into hiring and maintaining standing guard regimens, roaming patrols of bandit hunters, and law officials working under the local magistrates than any two other kingdoms in the Empire, also had the biggest issue with bandits and brigandry. It would seem that all of that money and effort invested into enforcing the law and rooting out lawbreakers would naturally restore and maintain social order better than others.

That was a mistaken assumption. Rather, it was the other way around. With the majority of the Empire's money flowing through the Central Kingdom at one time or another, there was an increased opportunity for criminals to carve out their own slice of it. Thus, the increased investment in guards and thief-hunters was a reactive measure, and not a preventative one... a response to the increased crime rates that was never quite enough to keep up.

There were other factors involved as well, of course.

Simply because there were less official measures against banditry, it didn't mean that the other kingdoms were unguarded. In the place of large established guard platoons funded and operating directly from tax money, the other kingdoms had a number of knightly orders, mystic fraternities, and mercenary associations of various descriptions that operated mostly independently, or which were the direct hobby of a more local noble, as seemed likely to feature in Adrian's future. While these organizations had no official remit of rooting out brigands, typically focused as they were instead on some aspect of chivalry, or the study of magic, or simply of making a profit from plundering the dungeons and hunting down monsters that had slipped loose from them into the wilderness... they would not ignore the opportunity to perform a public service in the hunting of bandits, laying claim to any treasures they had managed to hide away as they improved the opinion of their own organization and members among the general populace.

Additionally, a bandit that intended to be successful in the long term would not focus on robbing his immediate neighbors, if for no reason beyond the fact that it increased the odds that someone would recognize him... or if not himself, one of his underlings, leading to intense questioning and the ultimate result of a mob of people unwilling to tolerate his actions any longer approaching his resting place with torches and pitchforks in hand, if they could get no other weapons.

Instead, they would target travelers. Strangers. People passing through, and caravans that came and went and only really memorized the names and faces of those who traded with them directly. Which led them back around once again to migrating toward Central, where there were more of all of the above to prey upon.

As such, it probably wasn't surprising in a sense of hindsight that the Ravensworth's carriage procession was going to be attacked at some point. Nobles from another kingdom, moving with few men, lightly guarded and representing an opportunity?

There was a chance, of course, that the brigands would think twice on the matter, guessing that while it could be arrogance that saw them dispensing with security, or the pressures of haste, it could also be the sort of extreme confidence born of strength. In this case, however, it seemed like either the possibility had been disregarded, or the bandits had decided that they could win regardless.

Similarly, the choice to set the ambush on their way out, once much of the money that had been brought along had already been spent... taken on its own might seem strange, but that was just a matter of practicality. Bandits could not be loitering near the main roads all the time, after all. They would be hunted down quickly and efficiently if so. With that in mind, there was only so quickly a pack of bandits could respond to messages brought by scouts or tips from paid informants, and the window to get in the way of a moving carriage was quite small.

Thus, this ambush on the return trip.

Certainly, most of the money had been passed off into the gentle care of the church, but not all. And even setting aside currency, there was a great deal of value to a band of thieves, if seized. The horses, the carriage cushions, their fine clothes and ornaments, Malicia herself... Well, any kidnapping would be sufficient to demand a ransom in theory, so it didn't have to be Malicia specifically. But the fact was that even without chests of money, the Ravensworths were a juicy potential target.

Tempting enough for a dozen men to wrap their hair and faces in cloth and throw junk onto the road to force the horses to stop.

None of them looked like they were particularly strong, which made sense. If they were strong, then they could make more money by plundering dungeons as mercenaries. There was still an appreciable risk of death, but they would have the benefit of not being outlaws, meaning they didn't have to worry about being recognized as they ate and drank in public. Even people that were born with Classes like Rogue or Burglar, which might to an uncharitable mind be considered as indicators of potential future action, would generally have better ways to make more money than a highwayman-style ambush.

Nobody else seemed to be greatly worried, either, as the biggest bandit, the only one with a sword instead of a crude spear or a simple axe, brandished it and called out for the nobles to surrender.

Lord Ravensworth eased himself out of the carriage, driven by Jack, as Malicia sat calmly in the window-side seat. Adrian was drooling a little on himself as Edward quietly set his book pensively away, the Madame herself also slumbering and unbothered by things not because of a deep slumber but instead due mainly to a set of noise-blocking earmuffs.

"I would like for us to resolve this matter without disturbing my wife's rest." the Lord Ravensworth stated, what could be mistaken for a light breeze stirring his hair as he checked a pocket-watch and then tucked it away again to lean slightly on a walking cane. "She is pregnant, after all, and too much excitement isn't good for a growing infant."

Low chuckles echoed through the group of bandits.

"Well. I do like to consider myself as being a... gentlemanly sort." the head bandit said, almost jovially. "But that's going to depend on just how much you can turn out of your own lordly pockets."

"Oh? I'm afraid that you misunderstand my intentions." the Lord Ravensworth replied. "Jack, if you would...?"

Then he raised and tapped his cane against the surface of the road, sparking an ankle-level ripple of force spreading out and away from the carriage that knocked most of the bandits over. In the same moment, Jack pounced through the air like a giant predator, bringing one of the few that didn't fall on their own down to the ground with his knives in the brigand's throat.

Yells rose up as the bandits tried to rise and the Lord Ravensworth continued to knock them down with focused pulses of force and thrusts of his cane.

"Idiots. Fools. Incompetent, utterly worthless wretched wastes of skin. Greater than any of the crimes you have committed is your sheer and abject stupidity." he lectured as Jack jumped, stumbled. and stepped from one throat to another, cutting them along the way. "You try this against a noble family, knowing the requirements of the Academy? Such absurd foolishness is best swiftly culled out of the population. Were it not for the damage it would cause to this road, I should have the earth open up below your feet and swallow you whole, save anyone the effort of digging your graves. Not that your ilk deserve better than to be tossed into a barren field and torn apart by wild beasts..."

Malicia was idly distracted by the small stumble that had almost naturally fit in with all the rest of Jack's motions, still wondering if he had taken an injury that was lingering and acting up as the lead bandit roared and surged into motion.

Not towards Jack or the Lord Ravensworth. Toward the carriage. Toward her, seeming to cross the distance in between them in the blink of an eye as he reached toward where Malicia was leaning out the window to observe.

Had he decided to take a hostage? Even so, startled as Malicia might have been, her body responded almost on its own, reaching out at the same time as he reached for her, hand grabbing at the fabric at the side of his face.

She pulled with a wrench, tearing the mask loose.

The gesture tore much more than that, with a quietly fleshy ripping sound as Malicia's reflexive retaliation ripped the bandit's covered ear off of the side of his head and peeled a long stretch of skin and flesh off of his cheek and jaw, visibly dislocating the latter as the joint where it set into the skull was exposed to the open air.

His own grab aborted into a wordless scream as he clutched with his free hand at the wound and swung his sword in an arc that left Malicia feeling the wind of it near her scalp as she ducked her head long enough for it to pass.

Then he was impacted and knocked away with a powerful bolt of force that knocked his grip on the sword loose and sent it clattering across the road as Jack bounded over to take his head off of his shoulders like a faithful hunting hound sinking teeth into a harried deer.

Malicia dropped the clump of mess and raised her hand to her face, only to freeze up with a finger passing her lips and touching against her tongue as she recognized that she was being observed. The coppery taste of blood went cloying as the Lord Ravensworth stared Malicia down with cool slate-grey eyes, leaving her feeling as though she were a child back in the orphanage that had been caught sneaking treats out of the matron's special rewards jar.

After a further moment, his disinterested gaze moved away as he continued knocking bandits off of their feet as they attempted to flee, like a child lackadaisically toppling over bottles with casually tossed stones and clumps of dirt. Malicia remembered to breathe as she took her finger back out of her mouth, delicately tugging a kerchief out to wipe her hand with as she forced herself to remember that she was still in public view of everyone. The taste of the blood weighed heavily inside of her mouth as she struggled to decide whether to tactlessly swallow, gracelessly spit, or awkwardly fumble about for another cloth to quietly rub her tongue on.

Before long, the slaughter had wrapped up. With a grunt and a sweeping motion of his cane, the Lord Ravensworth propelled a plane of force to brush the junk and fallen bodies blocking the road off of it again, clearing it for their passage as Jack settled into the drivers' seat again and the Lord took his place back in the carriage proper. A crack of the reins started the horses moving once again.

The Lord Ravensworth's features were set in the same expressionless mask as usual, but... and while it was possibly just her embarrassment over having accidentally allowed a little bit of something unseemly to slip out... Malicia couldn't shake the feeling that it was instead something closer to a condescending lordly sneer at the distasteful commoner brat.

She flexed and relaxed her knuckles in the fabric of her dress, quiet and unseen.