Passive Pillager [top] -

That evening, Kaelen led three unarmed, exhausted people into Verveil. The captain was furious. The villagers were afraid. But when Marrow, with nothing but wild garlic, honey, and a cool cloth, broke the blacksmith’s daughter’s fever before midnight, fear began to soften.

Kaelen had his orders. “Passive or not, a pillager is a pillager. Report their location. The captain will send a squad.” passive pillager

But each night, he watched them through his spyglass. They didn't raid. They didn't burn. They foraged for wild onions, built no fires (too afraid of the smoke giving them away), and slept in turns while one kept a silent watch. The older woman, whom the others called “Marrow,” spent her evenings tending to the crossbowman’s festering arrow wound—an old injury, not from battle, but from a boar’s tusk. That evening, Kaelen led three unarmed, exhausted people

In the sun-scorched village of Verveil, a young scout named Kaelen was known for his steady hands and a sharper conscience. He had been tracking a small, separated band of pillagers for three days. These weren't the brutal, horn-helmed marauders of storybooks—just three ragged figures: a weary crossbowman, a pockmarked axe-bearer, and an older woman who carried no weapon, only a worn satchel. But when Marrow, with nothing but wild garlic,

Kaelen had his sword sheathed. His palms were open.