Chương 57

Pete Has a Good Idea Rel and I stood over Bok'than's corpse. It's fair to say my fingertip knife attack had been highly effective – quite a few of his internal organs were now very much external. It was gross. So you can probably understand why I was a bit confused when Rel started chuckling under his breath.

"Hey, Pete," he said, "I've got to hand it to you – that was a very creative way to kill someone." I stared at him.

"I suppose you had no choice," he continued.

"His despicable behaviour forced your hand." I sighed.

"Rel…"

"It's made a bit of a mess, though." He turned to the loitering bandits.

"Can someone give us a hand cleaning this up?" * Mogdun and I watched as Kaelis, Voklum and Allaria led the captured villagers out of the camp. They'd be gone for a day or two while they returned them to their homes. The villagers were in a sorry state. Bok'than truly was a piece of shit – he'd kept them in small cages and barely fed them enough to keep them alive. They were filthy, emaciated, and barely able to stand. He deserved the gruesome death I'd given him. But something was troubling me.

"Mogdun, are there any other bandit gangs in the area?" The lookout had grown in confidence since giving the speech that inspired the other bandits to walk away from Bok'than. He stood a little taller, and his eyes no longer darted about as if he were constantly looking for an escape. He nodded.

"Yes, there are several. None of them are anywhere near as large or as powerful as Bok'than's was, but they're still dangerous." That was a problem. In an ideal world, the other bandits would hear about Bok'than's downfall, reconsider their life choices, then go and get honest jobs that didn't involve robbing or murdering innocents. In reality? Bok'than's death would most likely create a power vacuum, with several unscrupulous leaders seeing it as their chance to become top dog.

I didn't fancy spending the next few weeks scouring the forest for bandit camps. We still had unfinished business with Lokta'Inif, and I was keen to take care of it. Once she was dealt with, the Stonehaven militia could resume their patrols. Hopefully, that would bring things back under control. Until then… I looked at Mogdun. I looked at the other twenty bandits who'd stood against Bok'than. I had an idea. A truly genius one.

"Mogdun, old buddy," I said, throwing an arm over his shoulder and flashing him my most charming smile.

"You know that guilt you're feeling for being part of Bok'than's bullshit?" He stared at me for a few moments, then responded with a very hesitant, "Yes."

"Well, how would you like the chance to right some of those wrongs? I'm going to give you the opportunity to be part of something. Something special. How does that sound?" He had the sceptical expression of someone waiting for the ' but'.

"That sounds good," he said slowly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Well," I said, "I look around this camp – at you and the other bandits who stood up to Bok'than – and do you know what I see? I see heroes. Champions of the people. Orcs who know right from wrong and are willing to stand tall in the face of evil." That wasn't entirely true. They might have drawn the line at torture and slavery, but they were still bandits. I've no doubt they'd have been perfectly happy to keep working for Bok'than if it only involved a bit of assault and robbery.

Still, for what I had in mind, they'd be good enough. Mogdun let out a deep sigh.

"I feel like I'm going to regret it, but I do want to make up for my part in all of this."

"Good man. Right, gather the rest of the bandits. I'll meet you in the village hall in ten minutes." While Mogdun headed off to assemble the troops, I went in search of Rel. I found him a few hundred metres beyond the village walls, floating beside a mountain of bandit corpses. Over forty had died in the fighting, and we figured it was only right we dealt with the bodies.

The villagers would likely return to reclaim their homes over the next few days, and after all the shit they'd been through, we didn't want them to have to come back to find dozens of rotting corpses strewn across the paths. He was accompanied by eight skeletal warriors. Skeletal warriors who looked resplendent in magnificent plate armour.

Before Rel had summoned them, I liked to imagine they'd been busy in their skeletal realm: polishing their armour, sharpening their swords, training endlessly to make sure they were ready the next time the great Lord Rel required their aid. When the portal opened, I bet they'd jumped excitedly to their feet, wondering what manner of foe they'd be battling in their Lord's defence. Demons? Tree creatures? Pirates? No. In their hands, they held… shovels. And their only opponent was dirt.

They were digging a very large hole. Osian stood to the side, hands clasped behind his back as he oversaw the operation. I was very disappointed he wasn't wearing a yellow hard hat. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I stood in stunned silence for a few moments, watching the skeletons work. They approached digging a hole the same way they did fighting – clean, methodical, and economical.

I supposed if they ever grew tired of the whole summoned minion gig, they'd have a promising future in construction. As fascinating as it was to watch a bunch of skeletal knights dig a hole, I was too excited to stay distracted for long.

"Rel," I said, pulling a notepad from my inventory, "I need your help." He floated down, and I explained what I needed him to do. He hovered over my shoulder as I sketched out what I had in mind.

"It's really important they have a self-cleaning and self-repair function; the uniforms need to be both practical and fashionable." I added a few more details, then held the pad a little further away, nodding approvingly at my masterpiece.

"Besides, they'll be representing me – I can't have them walking around covered in stains and dirt, looking like absolute scruffs." Rel ran his eyes over my outfit.

"And you're suddenly concerned about appearance, are you?" I turned slowly to face him, my slightly demented grin wiping the smirk straight off his face. Big mistake, buddy. I'd been saving a juicy nugget of information for a moment exactly like this one.

"Rel," I said, "have you checked the leaderboards lately? Why don't you have a quick look now? I'd like you to pay particular attention to the rankings for fashion sense." His gaze grew distant as he studied the interface.

"Impossible…" he muttered.

"You've moved up to 78 th? These 'expert judges' are clearly deluded." I shrugged.

"Out of interest, what position are you in?" He swore a few times, snatched the pad from my hand, stuffed it into his inventory, then shot into the air. He paused briefly to glare at me, the lightning dancing across his fur intensifying as he fed more power into the spell. Then he turned and darted off towards Oakreach. Within seconds, he was little more than a blue blur fading from sight. For those who are curious, he was ranked 237th. I guess wizard hats aren't so cool after all. *"So, you want us to be… guards?"

asked Dekrek.

"In a sense, yes. I want you to patrol the roads and forests and make sure the other bandits stay in line," I said.

"Now that Bok'than is dead, I've no doubt the other bandit leaders will see it as an opportunity to fill his shoes."

"I don't understand, Mister Pete," replied Dekrek, his tone suggesting I was being incredibly silly.

"Bok'than had tiny feet. There's no way his shoes would fit any of the other bandits." Bless him. Dekrek was exactly what I'd been expecting Bok'than to be – an enormous, lumbering brute. He towered over the other bandits, easily eight feet tall. His skin was the palest green of any orc I'd seen, and one of the tusks at the side of his mouth had snapped so all that remained was a little stump.

Dozens of scars littered his face, and he had the constant dazed expression of someone who'd taken too many blows to the head. Despite his menacing appearance, he was actually soft as shit. He'd been manipulated by Bok'than and his lackeys, who'd convinced him they were his only friends and bullied him into following their orders.

"That's a good point, Dekrek," I said, and he smiled proudly, like a child who'd just received full marks on a maths test. I studied them all for a moment.

"Now, don't think I'm expecting you to do this purely out of the goodness of your hearts. Anyone who signs up will be paid ten gold a day." My declaration was met with a few seconds of stunned silence, followed by excited whispering.

"Bok'than only paid us a gold a day!" said Mogdun. I shrugged.

"Bok'than was a cheap bastard. So… who's interested?" * Unsurprisingly, they were all very eager to sign up. I figured it'd be at least a day before Rel returned from Oakreach, so I decided to give my new recruits some training. They'd spent so long being bandits, I thought it might be worth reminding them how to act like respectable members of society. And what better way to do that than a little roleplay… I led my new elite squad through the forest until we reached a dirt path.

I'd brought one of the village carts along as a prop for the training session.

"Okay," I said.

"Over the next month or so, you're likely to run into all sorts of situations where people need help. We're going to roleplay a few scenarios so you know how to respond." I shoved the cart off the path. It tumbled into a ditch and rolled onto its side. I waved Mogdun over, took off my straw hat, and put it on his head.

"Mogdun, you're going to be a farmer in our first scenario. I want you to imagine that you were travelling along this path, minding your own business, when a loud noise startled your horse and caused it to panic. You lost control of the cart, and it ended up in this ditch." Mogdun shrugged and went to stand beside the cart. He looked around blankly, as casual as if he were waiting for a bus. I stared at him for a few moments.

"You need to sell it, Mogdun," I said, gesturing to the cart.

"How are we supposed to get into character if you're just standing there like it's no big deal? I want you to put yourself in the shoes of a farmer. Imagine your family's wellbeing depends on getting the produce in that cart to market. If you don't, you won't be able to keep a roof over their heads or put food on the table." He considered my words for a moment, looking thoughtful as he studied the cart. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and… Dropped to his knees.

He stared up at the sky, beat his hands against his chest, and let out a mournful cry.

"Why, Spirits, why?" he roared.

"What have I done to deserve such a cruel fate?" He reached out and gently rested a hand on the cart.

"My poor family… little Lukfum with his broken leg. If I can't get this produce to market, I won't be able to afford the doctor, and he may never walk again. If only there was someone who could help… perhaps a group of reformed bandits trying to atone for the sins of their past." Holy shit. He'd dug deep and channelled his inner DiCaprio.

"Now that's what I'm fucking talking about," I said, before turning back to the gathered bandits.

"Okay, Dekrek, you're up first. Imagine you're on patrol and you stumble across this. What do you do?" Dekrek scratched his head as he looked at Mogdun, then turned to me and broke into a broad smile.

"I know what to do!" he said. With that, he strode over to Mogdun and the cart. He grabbed Mogdun by the back of the head and slammed his face into the ground, grinding it into the dirt.

"Stay down, bitch," he growled.

"This is our cart now!" He turned to the others, grinning proudly.

"We're going to eat well today, boys!" I sighed.

"Damnit, Dekrek," I said, shaking my head.

"Remember, we've talked about this. You're not a bandit anymore. You have to be nice to people and help them. Try again." * I grabbed a sword from one of the bandits and handed it to Mogdun.

"Okay, this time you're on patrol and you come across a bandit," I said, gesturing to him.

"Maybe he's waiting to ambush and rob an unsuspecting villager travelling along the road. How do you handle it?" The bandits started discussing how best to approach the situation, but Dekrek shoved his way to the front.

"Don't worry, boys," he said.

"I've got this one." He charged forward, and I'm fairly sure I heard Mogdun mutter 'for fuck's sake' under his breath before Dekrek grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved his face into the dirt.

"This is our territory, bitch," he growled, reaching for the dagger at his belt.

"If I see you around here again, I'm going to split you open from your balls to your throat."

"Damn it, Dekrek," I said, then scratched my head.

"Wait… that might actually do the job." * We spent the rest of the day roleplaying different situations. By the end, all of the orcs, including Dekrek, understood what was expected of them. The next morning, Rel returned to the camp like a dazzling blue meteor, landing with so much speed and force he left a small, squirrel-sized crater.

"I had to get every tailor in Oakreach involved to sort these in a day," he said.

"It required no small amount of bribery to make them drop everything else and prioritise this." He passed me the inventory pouch, and I opened it eagerly. When the interface appeared and I saw twenty slots filled with identical items, I couldn't hold back the excited giggle that escaped my lips.

"Right," I shouted, "everybody get over here! I want you all in a single row." The new guardians of the forest ambled over and formed something that almost resembled a line. Unfortunately, given how long it had taken Dekrek to learn he wasn't supposed to smush villagers' faces into the dirt and call them 'bitch' in every scenario, we hadn't exactly had time to work on formations.

Still, they were a bunch of tough, motivated individuals who I reckoned would be more than up to the task until the Stonehaven militia got their patrols going again. I pulled the uniforms from the inventory and handed them out. A few minutes later, they stood in a line, backs straight, staring straight ahead. They all wore identical black tunics over their armour, with the letters PPP embroidered on the front in silver thread.

"What does PPP stand for, Mister Pete?" asked Dekrek, reaching down to trace the letters with fingers thicker than a child's wrist. I grinned broadly as I looked them over.

"Pete's Peasant Patrol."