Welcome to the Round Table of Bretonnia!

Sir Simon was about to speak his protests when Otto cut him off. “No friend knight. We come with you whether you like it or not. I want to kill dis man.  Franz will stay with some of my men to wait for friends. I will take dis group with you into forest. And him,” Otto pointed towards the wizard, who was trying to make himself look scarce, “he come too.” The wizard looked from side to side, noticed that he was flanked by angry mercenaries on both sides, and seemed to be considering running away.

“Josef Brugel, wizard of the Colleges of Magic, does not fight petty bandits with his awesome powers.” The wizard said with a haughty air of a man who knew he had no other cards to play but reputation and arrogance.

“I don’t care if you are Karl Franz himself, you will come with us wizard, or my men kill you here.” Otto was clearly trying to impress the importance of the task on the cowardly wizard, while Sir Simon sat high in his saddle, annoyed by the fact that he would be accompanied by these clumsy mercenaries and fearful wizard. He was used to fighting alone, as were most knights on their Grail quests, and he worried that the other men would simply hold him back. But, the men of the Empire did seem intent on coming and Simon could not really force them to stay. He hoped that the Lady would not be too offended by the fact that he had been forced to take up such dishonorable company. Mercenaries and a cowardly spellcaster, both from the Empire! Simon snorted in disgust and turned his horse to go. As he rode away, Otto Spiegel, four of his remaining men, and Josef Brugel all caught up with him, mounted upon their own horses.

“You insist on coming with me? I do not need help from greedy dogs like you.” Sir Simon’s tone was not pleasant.

Otto chose to ignore the insult. “We must have vengeance against dis murderer. We come with you. If you want to fight for honor of chase, we can. But I do not think you would win against us all sir knight. Better we be friends, ja?”

The wizard coughed and added, “Though I am not one of your 'mighty' damsels, I am most willing to offer you my spells. Not that I was given very much choice.” 

Sir Simon had to admit that earlier in his life, he would have been most apprehensive to fight alongside a wizard from the Empire, but he had done it before and was not necessarily afraid to do it again. He knew the Lady would still smile favorably upon him, for she looked well upon knights who did not fear that which was strange to them. If anything, a questing knight had his eyes opened more to the world around him. In fact, Sir Simon, hardly the philosopher or scholar, secretly suspected that a key part of the Grail quest’s meaning lay in what was discovered of the world and of other people during the journey. And so, accompanied by the strange allies of a band of vengeful mercenaries and a timid wizard, Sir Simon, questing knight of Lady, set off into the woods in hot pursuit of the brigands who had ransacked the caravan. 

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The Lady Giselle did not know how long she had been tied up in the corner of the cave. There had been six other prisoners with her, but now only four remained. One, a mere peasant who had been a cart driver, had been tortured to death before Giselle’s eyes. His hideous screams for mercy as the bandit’s knives went to work on his flesh still haunted Giselle’s ears. The second, a rather corpulent old merchant from Bordeaux, had been taken into a side cavern behind a leather curtain when the bandit’s leader had found out he had no money for ransom. There had only been one scream, loud and long, and then mutterings and whisperings which Giselle did not understand. She noticed that most of the bandits simply turned their backs to the curtain and ignored the sounds, instead focusing on dividing up the loot they had taken from the ransacked wagons.

She watched sadly as her own baggage was rifled through and the medicines which she had been taking to her sick uncle were strewn across the floor. She had not known the cart driver at all, but the old merchant had seemed of a decent sort. She did not know whether or not she would be ransomed. One of the other merchants had told her to lie about her family’s wealth if she wanted to live long enough to maybe try and escape. So, Giselle, whose family were poor and low-standing, had told the brigands that her father was a lord that would pay a king’s ransom for his daughter’s return. The man with One Eye, the leader, had laughed in her face when she said that. 

“I don’t believe you girl. If you had that much money, you would be riding with an escort of knights, not tagging along with some pitiful caravan full of sniveling merchants.” He emphasized the word merchants by kicking one of the prisoners in the head with his massive boot, knocking the squirming man unconscious. “I will have my fun with you later ‘milady’ but for now I will be a bit to preoccupied. Soon though, soon you’ll get a chance to see my room beyond the curtain.” The other bandits had laughed when One Eye said this until his glare stopped their mirth. “It’s a special honor my lady So special.” He had run his hand through her long hair then turned back to his men. “Find out if any of them have gold or are worth some ransom. Kill those who aren’t. Leave the girl for me.” One Eye had then grabbed the fat old merchant and dragged him into the room behind the curtain. When it had shifted, Giselle caught a glimpse of bloodstained rock walls and weird sigils carved into stone. 

That must have been hours ago. Most of the gold and loot had been divided up now and a few men were still arguing over the last scraps of plunder. Suddenly, the curtain swished and a hush fell over the room. One Eye emerged, the front of his smock covered in blood and his single eye bulging in its socket and glowing with unnatural light. He laughed, a deep throaty noise like a toad croaking. “You did well today my men!” Giselle could hear that the voice was warped somehow and even though she had had no magical training, she felt vile power radiating from the man.

“Tomorrow, we will deal with our prisoners. But for now, we feast!” One Eye laughed again and used a massive hand to adjust his leather eye-patch more securely. “Come! Eat! Make merry!” His men began to roll out food and barrels from hidden chambers in the side of the cave and soon men were quaffing stolen ale and eating ransacked provisions. Giselle noticed that the main course look slightly like horse meat and then noted that she had not seen her own animal in hours.

She heard the tromp of footsteps come up to her and felt a hand grab her hair and yank  her head up so she was staring at the roof of the cave and straight into the face of Jean One Eye. She flinched and One Eye laughed. “Don’t think I won’t have enough energy left for you girl. There’ll be plenty of time for you and I to get acquainted once my men are done with their drinking.” He laughed again, then strode back to the table. Giselle shuddered and began to silently cry. This was not meant to happen, especially to a young Bretonnian girl. Bandits like these weren’t real, just a story to scare peasant children. The other prisoners sat dejectedly and watched the brigands celebrate, cursing their fates and dreading their futures. 

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Not far outside the bandit’s lair, a sentry stood dejectedly. He was frustrated that he had not been included in on the celebration that was going on inside the cave. The man snorted and spit on the ground. Damned picket duty in the damned woods. Nothing to worry about here. No knights or men at arms would rush into these trees to find them and it was not as if some horrendous forest-dwelling monster was going to need a sentry to spot. Grumbling quietly to himself, the brigand turned to see if any of the other pickets in the line had moved, but he could not make out the nearest man in the darkness of the forest. He spat again. Thrice damned sentry duty. What a way to piss away the evening. He had so wanted to stake a good claim on his share of the loot. So preoccupied was the sentry with the thought of lost gold and beer, he never heard the whisper of the knife that slammed through the base of his spine and straight into his brain. The man dropped heavily to the ground, but no other sentries came running to the scene. Not but ten feet away on the opposite side of a tree-trunk lay the corpse of another brigand, his throat slit almost from ear to ear. Otto Spiegel and his men regrouped on the edge of the clearing around the cave and waited as a horse with a knight mounted upon it came trotting out of the woods, followed quickly by a bedraggled wizard on foot.