26 Chapter 23: Always Pack Brass Knuckles On Trips

"Are we there yet?" Tim asked towards his front pocket, completely ignoring the weary dwarf walking behind him. The road was poorly maintained and very dusty, but Bert suppressed his sneezes, fearing Tim would get annoyed.

"Once again, no, no village yet," Philbert's annoyed voice answered. The unlikely party had been walking along the singular, dirt road towards what was supposed to be Hempike village for a number of days, but each time they crossed over a hill all that met them was more road, and the occasional hill in the distance.

"Dammit. If I knew this was going to be such a long walk, I woulda' just tried my luck in hiding in the archives." Tim let out a frustrated growl. There was just too much work for him to do, too many things he needed to prepare for his half-finished plans, and now there was this. One hell of a walk, following a half remembered poorly written map.

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An arm's length away from Tim, Bert continued to walk in silence, seeing no point in either upsetting his boss or reminding him that they knew ahead of time that it would be about half a week's walk to the village. It's okay, Bert ol' boy, you've just got to make it through this trial. One, maybe two weeks, and then you can see Lotte and Hugo again. Besides, the lads are keeping an eye on them anyways, so you shouldn't be worried, Bert consoled himself. It was never easy for him to leave them to their own devices. Sure, the lads would try to keep them out of trouble. They really pulled together and had become much more reliable after Tim became boss, but he worried nonetheless.

Then, Bert came to a sudden stop, jolted out of his concerns by an ominous rustling in the bushes.

Four grinning men stepped out from the bushes one-by-one, each one flexing their tattooed arms and licking long knives. A small part of Bert paused to reflect they were stupid to be walking on uneven ground licking their knives like that. Still, he couldn't deny it was intimidating. It's funny how terrifying irrationality can be, he thought. Bert looked at Tim.

"Pssst. Boss." Bert whispered because evidently Tim, staring at a crusty book labeled with alchemical symbols, was not paying attention. "We got company."

Tim gave a tiny, startled jump in response to Bert's warning. Bandits? They seem to be a bit lightly armed for bandits, Tim thought, looking at the four menacing thugs approaching from the bushes. This really is odd, though, I thought these roads were patrolled enough for bandits to not bother with things like this.

"Right, ya bunch of lily-livered bitches! Yar money, or yar life!" The lead bandit spat out with a voice somewhere between a bark and a gargle and a face to match. He swung his knife around in his hands, showing off.

Tim could only let out a light snigger in response. "Well, I guess a small snack is in order." He raised his hand, and the bushes began to shake again.

"Easy boss, easy!" Bert shouted, already knowing what was going to happen next. "Leave 'em to me! They die like that, people might start asking questions!"

Tim's hand stopped. Shit. I didn't think of that. Rats can take care of most the body, but they would need to leave the bones behind this time, and a frenzy would leave obvious signs literally in the middle of the road. Like scattered gore. "Well, I guess I did bring some muscle along for a reason. Go for it, and while you're at it, make this entertaining. I need some excitement in my life right about now."

To Tim's side, Bert nodded his head and rolled up his sleeves. No time to regret volunteering now. "Right then fellas, time to show ya how a Blinder settles things."

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The four thugs spread out evenly in front of Bert. He flicked his eyes from each one, measuring them up. Two guys with knives, two with fists. Fairly muscled, brawlers maybe? Must have some skill, but not too much or I would have probably heard of them. The knife lads look like they know how to stick a man, but not well. Tattoos don't look gang-related, at least not one I recognize, shouldn't have to worry about pissing a large group off then. They're taking me cautiously due to my confidence, but it's a thin veneer; they know it's one versus four. Bert smiled as his analysis, formed from the experience of a hundred bloody fights, gradually started to tip the fight in his favor before it even began. Then, as the four men inched closer and closer to him and Tim ducked behind him to sit on a nearby boulder, Bert dipped his hands into his pockets, his grin widening.

The closest thug, obviously becoming impatient, took a full step forward, moving ahead of his companions in his eagerness, and Bert's right hand shot out of his pockets in an upwards jab.

'Crack!'

Bert's fist thundered into the unlucky bandit's chin, and the sickly crunch of bones breaking reverberated from him. The sudden strike momentarily startled the other three bandits, and as quick as a viper, Bert took advantage of the hesitation to lung forwards, baring the brass knuckles he had slipped on his fists for yet another strike.

"Shit, Kern, gut him!" The bandit leader screeched as he ignored his comrade with the broken jaw. The leader raised his knife, with Kern the bandit and the remaining brawler following shortly after.

However, it was too late as with a slight leap upwards to get some height, Bert's left arm, looking as thick and solid as a tree, thundered into the brawler with a lariat, and the brass on his right fist hit the tip of Kern's dagger to parry it with a metallic clang.

The brawler immediately went down with a winded gasp, clutching at the ruined remains of his windpipe that Bert had crushed with a single lariat.

To his right, Kern backed up a half step with a surprised look on his face. "Are you a fucking wrestler or somethin?" Bert ignored the pointless question, glancing at the knife and rubbing his brass knuckles with his thumbs in satisfaction. Its tip had snapped right off.

"Sonuva- Kern! You Flank! Joey, get your ass up, a jaw's gonna be the least of your problems if we make it out of here!" The leader spat out in what was seeming to be typical flunky fashion.

"Now now boys, ol' Joey got a sample of what's to come, I'll give ya'll a better one soon!" Bert shouted as he edged closer to the leader on his left. "Now! Comin' at ya!" He roared, once more taking a stance and sending a left hook whistling towards the bandit leader.

"Shit!" The leader screamed as he pulled up both of his arms to block. Brass-covered fist met arm, and the resulting 'crack!' could be heard for quite a ways. To Bert's right, Kern sidled back into the fight and slashed towards the blitzing dwarf with his now pointless knife.

"You never learn, do ya boy!" Bert triumphantly shouted as he made a slight turn to his right, once more utilizing the bass knuckles to block the edge of the knife. Sparks flew with a screech, and the knife strike was repelled through sheer strength. A quick follow up strike to Kern's gut heralded the splintering sound of ribs breaking, and another combatant being removed from the fray.

Bert sighed in appreciation for his handywork and turned towards Tim. "Wooh! Nothing like some good exercise to liven a trip up, don't you think boss?"