Chapter 65: Chapter 65: Black Fang Bandits, Blood Fang Bandits (part 1)

The fathers’ faces darkened.

“They were young!” one protested.

“They were foolish,” Roderic corrected flatly. “And fools who flaunt their status invite consequences.”

“You’re saying they deserved to die?!” another said with a grim face.

Roderic’s eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade.

“I am saying,” he replied evenly, “that if someone had the ability to kill four members of our clan in one night without alerting the guards… then we are dealing with something more serious than your grief.”

That shut them up.

He stood slowly from his chair.

“If this was an internal grudge, we will find it…” His gaze turned toward the open doorway, toward the town beyond the manor walls. “…Get out of here, now.”

The three men left the hall with dark expressions, their steps stiff and heavy.

None of them dared to argue further.

They had influence within the clan. They had relatives, allies, people who owed them favors. But none of that mattered in front of Roderic.

In the Dustwind Clan, Roderic’s word was law.

And pushing him too far was no different from asking to die.

Once the doors to the main hall closed behind them, the chamber fell into silence.

Roderic remained standing for a moment, staring at the empty entrance. His face showed no emotion, but his mind was clearly turning.

Before he could think further, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.

A man in light armor entered the hall and dropped to one knee.

“My lord.”

Roderic glanced at him.

The man was built like a seasoned fighter, thick arms, steady breathing, scars visible along his jaw. The pressure around him was solid and grounded.

A Body Tempering practitioner.

“What is it, Ron?” Roderic asked.

Garron kept his head lowered. “We’ve received reports from the outer scouts.”

Roderic’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Speak.”

“The Blood Fang Bandits have been sighted near the western hills. And…” Garron hesitated for half a breath. “…they are not alone.”

Roderic’s voice turned colder. “Who?”

“The Black Fang Bandits. Their banners were seen alongside them.”

The air in the hall seemed to thicken.

Roderic exhaled slowly through his nose.

“They’re here again,” he muttered. “Those vermin truly don’t know when to stop.”

Garron lifted his head slightly. “Scouts estimate they’ll arrive by nightfall. Possibly sooner.”

Roderic walked toward one of the open windows, looking out over the inner courtyard of the manor. Clan members were already moving about, unaware of what was coming.

“These bandits…” he said quietly, almost to himself. “They’ve been a thorn in my life for years.”

Raiding supply routes. Testing the town’s defenses. Retreating the moment things turned unfavorable.

Persistent. Annoying.

Roderic turned back to Garron, his expression firm.

“Get everyone ready.”

Garron straightened. “Everyone, my lord?”

“Yes.” Roderic’s voice left no room for doubt. “Call back all patrol units. Double the watch on the outer walls. Arm the reserve fighters.”

Garron nodded immediately. “Understood.”

Roderic stepped down from the platform and began fastening the leather guards around his wrists.

“This time,” he continued, “I will personally join the defense.”

Garron’s eyes widened slightly. “My lord, there’s no need for you to risk—”

“There is,” Roderic cut him off calmly. “If Blood Fang and Black Fang are bold enough to march together, then they believe we are weakened.”

His gaze sharpened.

“They need to be reminded why this town still stands.”

A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips.

“I will make sure they never come back again.”

Garron lowered his head deeply. “As you command, my lord.”

Outside, the sound of horns began to echo across the manor grounds.

Dustwind Clan warriors hurried to prepare.

—

Aiden was inside a small tailor’s shop near the central street when the horn sounded.

The shop smelled faintly of dyed cloth and old wood. Rolls of fabric were stacked neatly along the walls, brown, gray, dark blue. Nothing too flashy. Practical colors for practical people.

He ran a hand over a thick, dark robe hanging on display.

“This one,” he said calmly. “How much?”

The shopkeeper, a thin middle-aged man with sharp eyes, stepped closer. “That’s reinforced stitching. Won’t tear easily.” He named a price.

Aiden nodded and placed the coins on the counter without bargaining.

Beside the robe, he had also selected a plain but sturdy sword. Not decorative. Not expensive. Just reliable steel.

“For your son?” the shopkeeper asked casually while wrapping the items.

“For a companion,” Aiden replied.

The man chuckled. “Good choice. Blade’s balanced. Won’t embarrass him in a fight.”

Before Aiden could respond, a deep horn blasted across the town.

Once.

Then again.

The sound rolled through the streets like thunder.

The shopkeeper froze mid-motion.

“…Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

Outside, footsteps quickened. Voices rose. Shutters slammed closed in a hurry.

Aiden tilted his head slightly. “That doesn’t sound like a welcoming signal.”

The shopkeeper let out a dry laugh. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“I arrived yesterday.”

“It’s the bandits,” the man said grimly. “Must be them again.”

Another horn echoed, longer this time.

“But…” the shopkeeper frowned, glancing toward the door, “…it sounds more urgent than usual.”

Aiden calmly picked up the wrapped robe and sword.

“They attack often?”

“Too often,” the shopkeeper replied, lowering his voice. “Blood Fang Bandits mostly. Sometimes smaller groups. They test the walls, try to catch patrols off guard.”

“But that horn pattern… that means full alert.”

Aiden placed the last coin on the counter. “Do they ever make it inside the town?”

The shopkeeper shook his head immediately. “Not anymore.”

He leaned closer, speaking with a mix of pride and caution.

“It only happened a lot in the past. Years ago. They slipped through a weak point in the eastern wall. Burned a couple houses before they were driven out.”

He paused, then straightened slightly.

“But that was before Lord Roderic became the clan leader.”

“Oh?”

The shopkeeper nodded firmly. “Since Lord Roderic took over the Dustwind Clan, the bandits haven’t succeeded once. Not a single time.”

There was genuine respect in his tone.

“He strengthened the patrols. Repaired the walls. Trained more fighters. When he fights personally…” The man gave a small shake of his head. “The bandits retreat fast.”

Outside, another horn sounded. This time, closer to the inner walls.

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