text: [Themes: fantasy]
  
  Just as he promised, Sir Osis arrived a few minutes before noon with his sword sharpened and his bladder emptied. The caravan was on the smaller side, and, aside from the single covered carriage, lightly guarded. Evidently the bit about precious cargo was slightly exaggerated, unless the crown jewels were hidden in the saddlebag of one of the mules. Still, the caravan's small size probably made for an even more enticing target for bandits.
  
  "Ten minutes, everyone!" the caravan master cried. One merchant who had decided to try to sell some of his stock here began hastily packing his things. Sir Osis decided this would be a good time to introduce himself to the lady who he had learned was Marian, daughter of Lord Feithid.
  
  He rode over to the carriage and bowed while atop his horse. Alphonse nearly fell over, but quickly recovered. He was a good horse. The lord's daughter was a plump girl with a very bored expression and made no acknowledgement of Sir Osis, save a slight wave of the hand.
  
  "I trust your travels have gone well so far, Lady Feithid."
  
  "Uh-huuuh."
  
  He chose to take that as the affirmative and continued, "I shall be providing you with some extra protection for the remainder of your journey, as these roads can be very treacherous."
  
  "Sure."
  
  "If you need anything at all—"
  
  "Got it. Get you and that pony away from me. I'm trying to daydream about Scuzzi in peace."
  
  He stared in shock a moment before hesitantly asking, "Scuzzi, milady?"
  
  "The Danish skald. Gosh, old people. He's so ruggedly handsome, yet he smells so good....How could you not have heard of him?! Go stab some children or whatever ye uncultured brutes do!"
  
  "Forgive me, milady." Sir Osis rode away from the carriage, attempting to determine whether that conversation could be called a success or a failure. After much contemplation, he determined it a success.
  
  After another hour, the caravan master finally got everyone ready to go, and they set off on their way. It was unfortunate that they had not left in the morning, but the days were long in spring.
  
  The smell of cool mud and the sounds of the carts and the birds were a lullaby to Sir Osis, and he had to make up a little story in his head about a robin fighting a war against a rattlesnake army to entertain himself. He should have been a skald or a bard himself, because the story was so entertaining that he did not notice a man walking out into the middle of the road in front of them and drawing a bow.
  
  The group came to a halt, and the guards drew closer to the carriage. Sir Osis readied his hand to draw his sword and looked into the trees. He couldn't see anybody else, but if there were, things could get very bad.
  
  "Hand over the goods, and drop your weapons, and nobody will get hurt" the highwayman said.
  
  "I'll drop them in Hell!" one of the guards screamed before charging him. His words proved prophesy when he was stopped with an arrow through his neck. With the bandit having to draw and aim again, this was perhaps a good opportunity to take him out, or there was the option to wait for another opportunity, perhaps while he was assisting in the handing over of goods.
  
  > Wait
  Something was obviously up. Nobody was crazy enough to attack guarded travelers in broad daylight alone like this. Well, some people were, but they don't count. Sir Osis decided that it would be better to wait to see who or what else appeared.
  
  "Why don't you do something?" one of the merchants nagged.
  
  "I do not yet know what emboldens this man so and advice you to remain docile for now."
  
  The merchant made some grumblings that he would likely not make in front of his grandmother, but soon complied. Sure enough, several more bandits, these armed with spears, came out of the forest. They ordered the contents of the carts shown to them, and after determining a few things they considered not worth carrying, they ordered the rest consolidated and given to them along with the animals.
  
  Sir Osis began to unharness one of the horses, and, like all the guards, had been made to set his weapon down. However, he could see the handle of something in the cart ahead of him. Further inspection revealed it to be a hammer—not an ideal weapon, but the thought came to his mind that perhaps he could create enough of a distraction that some of the others could get their weapons back. There were around eight bandits he could see, and it would certainly be easier to take them out now that they were visible. Then again, there was a very decent chance that he would only be run through with a spear the moment he made any sort of threatening gesture.
  
  > do It!
  This was ranked among the dumbest ideas he had ever had, and considering what his youth had been like, that was saying a lot. There was no reasonable decision but to go through with it. Sir Osis grabbed the hammer and lunged to a bandit who had his back turned to him. He slammed the hammer against the bandit's neck, and he dropped to the ground. If you wanted a high pay-off, sometimes you had to take risks.
  
  Seeing his efforts, one of the guards jumped on a bandit, and another ran to the weapon pile. The latter was shot before he was within fifteen feet of it, but it was admirable teamwork, nonetheless. If any of the others had taken his queue, Sir Osis did not know, as he had started to go after one of the archers. He knew attacking one of the spearmen would have crossed the line from risky to suicidal, but there was little an archer could do to him if he could not draw his bow. Stunned, the archer attempted to draw a dagger, but when Sir Osis hit his arm with the hammer, the archer dropped it. Unable to do little else against the madman, the archer grabbed Sir Osis's neck and gripped it with all his strength. Sir Osis continued to hit him repeatedly with the hammer until, finally, the chokehold around his neck loosened. Then Sir Osis felt something penetrate his body and had just enough time to look down to see a spear through his abdomen before he fell over. It felt to him as if he laid on the damp road for eons until sweet Death came for him.