Gamil rose from his table at the gambling den, glad that he hadn’t dipped too far into the strong ale being served here.

Curse those fools! He thought, They’ll be the death of me ‘ere this is finished.

The den was surprisingly crowded, given the size of the small town, and Gamil had to twist between patrons, guards, and servants as he made his way through the room, following the conversation of the den master and his thug.

“We’ll move against him tonight,” the thug replied, “He’s distracted with his lady, so we should be able to take him quietly. Hold a knife to her pretty little throat and he’ll tie his own hands!”

The den master’s laugh was lost in the cheers from a nearby table as someone won a large sum.

“… gunna pay for them?” the thug finished when Gamil was able to pick up the conversation again.

“One of them has family in Paelstead,” the den master explained, “The father has been causing problems for us there, taking out our dens within days of when we set them up; makes it cursed hard to do business! But, with his son in our hands, we’ll be able to keep him off our backs as we get set up.”

“I thought we were holding them for ransom!” the thug practically shouted.

“Silence!” the den master snapped back, “A ransom will only glean a one-time payout. If we keep the son and use him as bartering material, I can pay your wages for years to come. You should be grateful I’m considering your future rather than only paying you once.”

“I care little for what you consider to be my future,” the thug sneered, “You promised me 100 gold drops as my share of the ransom. I expect that to be paid by the end of the month. If not, the law may just find out exactly where you’re holding the lordlings.”

The den master glared icily back at the thug.

“Come with me,” he said, “Let’s continue this conversation somewhere more… private.”

Gamil moved quickly to get a good line of sight on the den master and his thug as they ducked into a door. He slipped a knife into his right hand as he approached the door. A muted scuffle and thump came from the other side of the door, and Gamil heard muted footsteps approach the other side.

Gamil tucked himself into the corner so that the door would be between himself and whoever came out of the door. As he expected, the den master came out alone, completely unharmed and with a smug look on his face. Gamil remained still as the man shifted his coat, put on a more genuine, less threatening smile, and returned to his patrons.

Gamil took a few moments to watch the den master until a scuffle broke out over the large win a few seconds prior. Using the distraction from the patrons, he cracked the door and slipped into the room. It was sparsely furnished, with a few simple chairs around the edges. The thug that had entered with the den master was lying dead on the floor.

Four other doors were spaced around the room, one door on each wall to the sides, and two doors on the far wall. All of the doors but the one he had come through and one across the room had bolts on this side of their doors, making it clear that they could be used as holding cells. Seeing the limitation on access to this room, Gamil took one of the chairs and jammed it under the handle of the far door. Muted laughter from the other side indicated that more of the den master’s thugs resided there and that they would wait there until they were needed. Likely they would be stepping out soon to deal with the corpse, and Gamil couldn’t have them interfering.

He moved to the bolted doors next. Two of the three had their bolts latched, so Gamil focused on those, ignoring the last room to save time. He drew the first bolt and stepped quickly into the room; knives raised in case a guard was in the room with the prisoners. It was an unnecessary precaution. The room bore only two men, one in dirty beggar’s rags and the other in a nobleman’s coat. Neither bore any weapons, but they rose when he entered and took stances from ye’kem’von, the martial art practiced by the Fey.

“Calm yourselves,” Gamil growled at the young lordlings, “I ain’t your enemy. Save your strength for the ones we’ll have to face on the way out.”

“Gamil?” Xalvador asked, “Is it truly thee?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He continued, irritated further by the “noble” way he spoke, “And stop talking like that! Acting like you’re better than the rest of because of a few fancy words!”

He didn’t wait for the lordlings to react. Knowing they were safe he left them to gather themselves and walked over to the other bolted door. He had expected to find one lordling in each room, but now he was curious what other unfortunate victim had fallen prey to the den’s master.

He listened at the door and heard weeping. He hated this part of himself sometimes, always wanting to reach out and help others. Why couldn’t he just care about himself like everyone else? Why couldn’t he just take the lordlings and leave this unfortunate victim to their own survival?

Unfortunate victim… he thought, that’s why…

Gamil drew the bolt and slipped quietly into the room. It was dark, the guards not even leaving a candle for their prisoner to see by; not that there was much to see. The sliver of light from the open door revealed a room much like where Xalvador and Gaillard had been held. Simple stone walls and a bare floor, with a bucket for waste and thin sheet of straw for a bed. The prisoner here didn’t seem to be using the bucket anymore.

Gamil saw her in the corner, curled tight into a ball with her back to the room. He moved carefully toward the girl, trying to avoid the messes of waste that should have gone into the bucket. She was just a child! No more than ten winters! How could they treat her like this!?

Gingerly, Gamil reached out to touch the girl, and she screamed. It wasn’t pain, just fear; but the guards were sure to hear, and possibly the patrons of the gambling den.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!” Gamil said, louder than he’d have liked to be heard over the screams, “I’m not here to hurt you! I’m a friend; I’d like to take you home.”

The girl calmed down quickly at Gamil’s words and looked over her shoulder to see who was there. Likely at seeing that he was not in the uniform of the guards, she calmed further, and even stopped crying.

Good. Gamil thought, that’s progress at least.

“My name is Gamil,” he said, “but there is no time for additional introductions. We have to move quickly if we’re going to get out of here. Can you walk?”

She sniffed quietly, still trying to stop her sobs, and nodded in response.

“Good. Come along now.”

Heavy thumps could be heard from the guards’ room now as they pounded on the door, and the two lordlings were pressed against it and working to reposition the chair when Gamil returned with the girl. She gasped when she saw the corpse on the floor, and Gamil almost thought that she was going to break down into sobs again. She didn’t, thankfully.

“Good lads,” Gamil said encouragingly to the lordlings, “When we get out into the den, follow quickly. Those guards won’t be far behind despite the furniture barring their way.”

Gamil opened the door back to the den and was immediately confronted by the den’s master.

“Who are y…” the master started shouting, though he was cut short by one of Gamil’s blades. Gamil climbed over the corpse, helping the girl along behind him.

Shouts echoed through the den as people saw the murder and screamed. Several thugs, “guards” as they were known here, drew swords and cudgels and ran toward Gamil. His hand flexed on his dagger, wet with the den master’s blood, and he pulled the young child along toward the exit.

There were five thugs around the room, two by the entrance, one headed toward him, and two more moving toward the guard room – likely wondering what happened to their comrades.

Gamil couldn’t worry about them. Instead, he focused on the three guards around him, particularly the one stomping toward him. He let go of the girl’s hand, shifting to keep himself between her and the thug as he pulled a second dagger into his left hand. There wouldn’t be questions from the guards, they had seen Gamil kill the den master. Even as the closest one approached, he was raising his cudgel to bash in Gamil’s skull. Gamil waited until he was close, then darted forward, dagger flashing. The unexpected motion caused the thug to hesitate. Instead of swinging downward at Gamil, he spun the cudgel to parry Gamil’s attack. Expecting this, Gamil drove his second knife down into the thug’s leg.

The pain caused the guard to scream and drop his cudgel. Gamil took advantage of the opening to finish him.

Turning at a sound behind him, Gamil saw Gaillard fighting the other two thugs while Xalvador held the door closed, keeping the two that had entered to retrieve their comrades and an unknown additional number of other guards from entering the den proper.

They’ll break through soon despite Xal’s persistence… Gamil thought, grabbing the girl’s hand again and moving toward the entrance. The guards at the entrance weren’t stopping people from leaving, but they had drawn their weapons; swords – sharp and long. Fighting both with only his daggers would be impossible.

He approached anyway, hoping to hide in the crowd of patrons; he was not so lucky. The guards were fixated on him and his young ward, ignoring the crowd as he drew closer.

The first guard swung twice when Gamil was in range, and the old gambler managed to parry both swings with his daggers. The second guard rushed in though, not willing to give Gamil the chance to kill his comrade in single combat. Both guards were going to attack at the same time, and Gamil knew he wouldn’t be able to parry both strikes.

I knew those lordlings would get me killed! He thought, angry with himself more than Xalvador and Gaillard.

As the strikes fell, Gamil parried one, and braced for the pain of the second to take him; a small thunk came instead. Xalvador was there, swinging a cudgel he had picked up from a fallen thug. He shoved the sword back and followed with a blow to the thug’s head. A quick glance behind showed that Xal had captured a sword from a guard somehow and had pinned the door shut by stabbing the floor at an angle directly in front of the closed guard room.

Smart lad! Gamil admitted to himself. Perhaps the young lordlings aren’t so daft after all...

Gaillard arrived heartbeats later, tackling the second thug and slamming the pommel of another sword into his temple, rendering the guard unconscious.

“Let’s get out of here before they free themselves!” Gamil exclaimed, thankful that he was still able to say the words.