Ironbound

The days bled into each other, a ceaseless cycle of labor, hunger, and pain.

Kain learned the rhythms of the camp, the shifts in guard rotations, the bandits' drinking habits, and the moments of chaos when tempers flared. The camp was a hive of disorganized brutality, its leaders more concerned with their spoils than maintaining discipline.
The captives were worked relentlessly during the day, hauling supplies, digging trenches, or cleaning the camp. At night, they were locked in the cage, left to huddle together under the eye of a guard who often dozed off by the fire.
One afternoon, the bandit leader emerged, a tall, scarred man. His sword was polished and well-maintained, a big contrast to the rusted weapons of his underlings. He surveyed the captives, stopping in front of Kain.
"This one," the leader said, his voice gravelly. "He might have some potential."
The guard beside him sneered. "Picked a fight with Rall the other day. Took a beating for it, too."
The leader smirked, crouching down to meet Kain's eyes. "Good. I like fighters. They fetch a better price."
He stood abruptly, waving his hand dismissively. "Keep him alive. If he dies, he's worthless."
Kain's jaw clenched as the leader walked away.
That night, as the captives huddled together in the cage, Kain leaned close to the old man. The young girl dozed beside them, her face buried in the folds of the old man's tattered cloak.
The old man raised an eyebrow, his expression weary. "You've been watching them, haven't you?"
Kain nodded. "They're drunk half the time. The night guard barely stays awake. The cage isn't that strong."
The old man sighed. "And what then? You get out, and they hunt you down like an animal? You think you can outrun them?"
"I won't be alone," Kain said, his voice sharper now. "If we plan this right, some of us can make it. Maybe not all, but some."
The old man hesitated, his eyes narrowing. "You're serious."
Kain met his gaze, the ember of rage burning in his chest. "I won't die here. Not like this."
The next day, Kain put his plan into motion. During the chaos of the camp's morning routine, he managed to pocket a rusted nail from a pile of discarded tools. It was small, but sharp enough to use as a makeshift lockpick.
He worked through the day, hiding the nail in the hem of his ragged shirt. The young girl noticed his change in demeanor, her eyes watching him intently as they carried out their tasks.
"What are you doing?" she whispered during a quiet moment.
"Getting ready," Kain replied, his voice firm.
"For what?"
Kain didn't answer.
That evening, as the captives were herded back into the cage, Kain's heart raced. He felt the weight of the nail pressing against his ribs, its sharp edge digging into his skin.
The bandit guard slammed the cage door shut, securing it with a heavy padlock. He lingered for a moment, his bloodshot eyes scanning the captives before he spat on the ground and walked away.
Kain waited until the camp got quiet, the sound of drunken laughter fading into the night. He leaned toward the old man, showing him the nail.
"This is it," Kain whispered. "Tonight."
The old man frowned. "You're going to get us all killed."
"Not if we move fast."
Kain began working on the lock, his fingers trembling as he maneuvered the nail into the rusted mechanism. Each click sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins, but every creak of the cage made him pause, his breath catching in his throat.
The young girl clutched the old man's arm, her wide eyes darting between Kain and the sleeping guard.
Finally, the lock gave way with a soft snap.
Kain pushed the door open cautiously, the cool night air rushing over his face. He turned to the others, his voice a sharp whisper.
"Now."
The captives hesitated, their fear holding them in place. Kain's gaze hardened.
"We're not going to get another chance," he said. "Move!"
One by one, they crept out of the cage. The lone guard snored softly, oblivious to their escape.
But as Kain stepped forward, his foot brushed against a loose rock. The faint clatter cut through the silence.
The guard stirred, his hand reaching for his sword.
Kain froze, his breath catching as the guard stirred. The man's bloodshot eyes blinked open, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his sword. The captives around Kain tensed, their movements halting as fear rippled through the group.
"Who's there?" the guard muttered, his voice groggy.
Kain's heart pounded. He had no time to think. Before the guard could fully rise, Kain lunged forward, grabbing a rock from the ground and smashing it into the man's temple.
The guard let out a grunt of pain, his body slumping back against the cage. Kain hesitated for a moment, but the guard was still breathing.
"Move," Kain whispered to the captives.
The old man led the way, guiding the others toward the forest's edge as quietly as possible. Kain followed at the rear, his stolen blade clenched tightly in his hands.
As the group reached the outer edge of the camp, Kain paused, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The bandits' fires flickered in the distance, their drunken laughter growing faint.
"We're clear," the old man whispered, motioning for the others to keep moving.
But something wasn't right. Kain noticed one of the captives, a wiry man with shifty eyes, hanging back. His gaze flicked toward the bandit tents, his posture tense.
"Keep going," Kain hissed.
The man hesitated. Then, in a flash, he bolted toward the camp, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"They're escaping! Over here!"
The other captives froze, their faces pale with horror.
"You coward!" the old man spat, his voice venomous.
Kain didn't have time to think. The camp erupted into chaos as the bandits grabbed their weapons, their torches flaring to life.
"Run!" Kain shouted, shoving the others toward the forest.
Kain stayed behind, his stolen sword raised as the first bandit charged toward him. Their blades clashed, the force jarring Kain's arms. The man was stronger, faster, but Kain fought with desperation.
He ducked beneath a swing, slamming the hilt of his blade into the bandit's ribs. The man stumbled, but before Kain could strike again, another attacker appeared.
Two against one.
Kain managed to hold his ground for a moment, but a sharp kick to his stomach sent him sprawling. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground.
Pain shot through his side as one of the bandits struck him with the flat of his blade.
"Stupid brat," the man growled. "You think you can get away from us?"
Kain was dragged back into the camp, his body battered and his vision swimming. The other captives were already being rounded up, their hopes of freedom crushed.
The old man and the young girl were hauled out of the forest, their faces pale with terror. Kain's stomach twisted as he saw the shifty-eyed man grinning smugly beside the bandit leader.
"Caught them all, didn't I?" the man said, his voice oozing with false confidence.
The leader sneered. "You'll get what you're promised." He turned to the captives, his gaze cold. "The rest of you? Consider this a lesson."
The bandits pulled Kain to his knees, forcing him to watch as one of the captive, a man who had barely spoken, was dragged forward.
"No!" Kain shouted, struggling against the hands holding him down.
The leader raised his sword, bringing it down in one clean stroke. The captive's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The old man turned his face away, while the young girl sobbed quietly beside him.
Kain was thrown back into the cage, his body aching and his mind racing. The other captives sat in stunned silence, their eyes empty.
The shifty-eyed man was gone, dragged away to a separate tent, where his "reward" awaited.
Kain's fists clenched. His plan had failed, and someone had died because of it. His own weakness, his inability gnawed at him.
Kain sat hunched in the corner of the cage, his hands trembling as the events of the night replayed in his mind. The sharp clang of the leader's sword cutting down the captive echoed in his ears, drowning out the faint murmurs of the others around him.
The bloodstained ground of the campfire seemed etched into his memory. The shifty-eyed man had betrayed them, trading their lives for a bandit's hollow promise.
He clenched his fists, the rope burns on his wrists stinging as his nails bit into his palms. He had been too impulsive, too trusting. It wouldn't happen again.
The cage was quieter now, the captives too broken to speak. The young girl, who had clung to the old man for comfort, sat with her knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her small frame trembled with silent sobs.
Kain glanced at her, his jaw tightening. He wanted to say something, to reassure her, but the words wouldn't come. What could he say? That it would be okay? That they would find another way out?
He didn't believe it himself.
The old man shifted closer to Kain, his weary eyes narrowing.
"You see now, don't you?" he said, his voice low and sharp. "This isn't a game. You can't just swing a sword and hope for the best."
Kain didn't look at him. "I tried."
"Tried? You think that matters to them?" The old man gestured toward the bandits gathered around the fire. "You saw what they did."
Kain's jaw tightened. "What should I have done? Let them beat us down forever? Let them kill us anyway?"
"You should've waited," the old man snapped. "You think this was the only chance we'll ever get? Patience is the only thing that'll keep us alive."
The old man's words lingered in his mind. Patience.
The next morning, the traitor emerged from the leader's tent, his smirk gone. His face was pale, and he walked with a limp, his arms clutching a sack of meager supplies.
"Didn't work out the way you thought, did it?" the old man muttered, his voice dripping with contempt.
The man didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the ground as he was shoved toward the edge of the camp.
One of the guards laughed. "No use for you now. Better hope someone else takes you in before the wolves do."
Kain watched as the man stumbled into the forest, his form shrinking until it disappeared into the trees.
"He'll be dead by nightfall," the old man said grimly. "That's the way of the world."