Chapter 27

Farne, of course, let me know exactly what he thought about my actions. He was yelling, brandishing his fists, and screaming that if the bandits hadn’t gone crazy and turned tail for some unknown reason, I’d be dead as a doornail.

I had a pretty good idea why exactly they had gone crazy, but I was in no hurry to confess it to the colonel, and thus, I kept poking at the ground with my toe-cap and making an innocent face. When Farne finally realized that winners couldn’t be judged, he stopped pestering me. They still had to release all the captives, help the wounded, interrogate everyone, get them home, hang the bandits, and sort out the loot.

Compared to all that, I was practically sitting on my hands, other than pouring another dose of moonshine into the noble count, affectionately telling him that incorrect wake-up juice led to a bender. I calmed down.

Too bad. In five days, a shadow slipped inside my tent. His name was Tyen Claymore, and he was a tutor who had been teaching a baron’