Night had fallen over the Tuqluq Tribe.
Moonlight washed across the towering stone walls as patrols continued their rounds.
Most of the city slept peacefully.
One person did not.
Ronnie Tuqluq stood silently beside the window of his chamber.
His father's words echoed endlessly inside his mind.
"You have built nothing."
"You are not worthy."
"A great chief is one who creates a tribe—not one who inherits it."
His fists slowly tightened.
His father had praised Varinder more than his own son.
That humiliation...
He would never forget it.
Without another word, Ronnie changed into a dark traveling cloak.
He quietly climbed over the rear wall of the estate.
Moments later...
A single rider disappeared into the forest.
The deeper Ronnie traveled...
The quieter the world became.
The sounds of civilization vanished.
Only the cries of nocturnal beasts echoed through the mountains.
Several hours later...
A narrow valley appeared before him.
No banners.
No walls.
No guards.
It looked abandoned.
Ronnie guided his horse deeper inside.
Suddenly—
"Stop."
Several arrows emerged from the darkness, all aimed directly at his chest.
A rough-looking man stepped forward.
"This place is closed."
Ronnie slowly lowered his hood.
"I came to see Raka."
The bandit narrowed his eyes.
"And who are you?"
"Ronnie Tuqluq."
The man's expression immediately changed.
Without another word, he gestured toward the valley.
"Follow me."
The valley wasn't abandoned at all.
It was alive.
Hundreds of bandits moved between crude wooden buildings.
Some sharpened weapons.
Others drank around bonfires.
Several wagons overflowed with stolen supplies.
It resembled a small tribe...
Built entirely upon bloodshed.
Ronnie's eyes swept across the camp.
Everywhere he looked...
He saw hardened killers.
Not one of them appeared afraid.
Instead...
They laughed.
As though killing were nothing more than ordinary work.
At the center of the camp stood the largest tent.
Two enormous axes rested outside its entrance.
The guard bowed slightly.
"Chief."
"The Young Master of the Tuqluq Tribe has arrived."
A deep voice answered from within.
"Let him enter."
Ronnie stepped inside.
The tent was surprisingly simple.
A large wooden table occupied the center.
Maps covered almost every inch of its surface.
Supply routes.
Trade roads.
Locations of tribes.
Mountain passes.
There was far more information than Ronnie had expected.
Behind the table sat a broad-shouldered man covered in scars.
His hair had already begun turning gray.
Yet his sharp eyes missed nothing.
This...
Was Raka.
Leader of the Raka Bandits.
He looked nothing like the savage monster described in rumors.
Instead...
He looked like a commander.
Raka smiled.
"So..."
"The Young Master of Tuqluq has traveled quite far to meet an old bandit."
Ronnie remained standing.
"I came for business."
Raka nodded.
"I expected as much."
He pointed toward a chair.
"Sit."
Ronnie sat.
Neither spoke immediately.
Finally...
Raka poured two cups of wine.
Ronnie refused.
Raka chuckled.
"Cautious."
"Good."
He drank both cups himself.
"So..."
"What do you want?"
Ronnie didn't hesitate.
"I want the Vera Tribe destroyed."
The tent fell silent.
For the first time...
Raka's smile disappeared.
He leaned back.
"The Vera Tribe..."
He tapped a finger against the table.
"Interesting."
Ronnie frowned.
"You know them?"
Raka smiled faintly.
"I know of them."
"They've grown rather quickly."
He looked directly into Ronnie's eyes.
"What did they do?"
Ronnie explained everything.
The proposal.
The refusal.
His father's humiliation.
Varinder's threat.
He omitted nothing.
When he finished...
Raka remained silent.
Then...
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough to make Ronnie uncomfortable.
"So..."
"A father's pride."
"And a son's arrogance."
Ronnie's face darkened.
"I didn't come here to be mocked."
Raka waved a hand.
"I'm merely observing."
He stood and walked toward one of the maps.
His finger rested upon the symbol marking the Vera Tribe.
Then...
It slowly moved toward the neighboring territories.
He seemed lost in thought.
Finally...
He spoke.
"Destroying a tribe isn't difficult."
"But destroying the right tribe..."
"...always changes the balance."
Ronnie frowned.
"I don't care about balance."
"I only want revenge."
Raka turned.
A smile returned to his face.
"I know."
"And that is exactly why this will cost you."
Ronnie's voice remained calm.
"Name your price."
Raka didn't answer immediately.
Instead...
He studied Ronnie carefully.
Almost as though judging him.
Finally...
He raised one finger.
"Ten thousand gold coins."
Ronnie's eyes didn't even blink.
"Agreed."
Several of Raka's lieutenants looked surprised.
That amount could purchase a small army.
Yet Ronnie accepted without negotiation.
Raka's smile widened.
"And everything taken from Vera..."
"Belongs to us."
"Agreed."
Raka extended his hand.
Ronnie grasped it firmly.
The agreement was made.
Neither man smiled.
As Ronnie prepared to leave...
He suddenly stopped.
"One question."
Raka raised an eyebrow.
"Why did you hesitate when I mentioned Vera?"
For the briefest moment...
Something strange flashed across Raka's eyes.
Then it disappeared.
"You imagined it."
Ronnie stared at him for another moment.
Then left.
The tent became quiet once again.
One of Raka's lieutenants stepped forward.
"Chief..."
"Were you truly planning to attack Vera?"
Raka looked toward the map.
A slow smile spread across his scarred face.
"No."
He tapped the symbol representing the Vera Tribe.
"I simply received..."
"...a far more interesting opportunity."
His lieutenant frowned.
"What now?"
Raka's smile widened.
"Gather everyone."
"We have work to do."
Outside...
The camp erupted into activity.
Bandits rushed to prepare weapons.
Horses were saddled.
Supplies were loaded.
Far away...
The Vera Tribe remained peaceful.
Bonfires still burned.
Children still laughed.
Families still believed tomorrow would arrive like any other day.
None of them knew...
That death had already begun its journey toward them.