Author's Note: I just wao let everyone know that I have a couple of books ing out soon.

  Broken System 3 releases on 1/29/25 so if you wao read something gamelit/ a finished series of mine, now's a great time to do so. The trilogy as a whole is about a thousand pages (270k words), so not super long, but I think it has a very satisfying arbsp;

  Tenebroum 3 releases 2/24/25. This series is only halfway done, but much better fleshed out, edited, and about 15% lohan the first version I posted. So, if you didn't read the inal ahe o binge some evil, now's your ce! This will eventually be an audiobook (Book 2's audiobook releases in March)

  If you like reading my stories, please sider giving me your support and pig one up.

  Over the few days, Simon turned his dejected farmers into something closer to fightiheir abilities were entirely inferior to the fighting force he’d built to fight the taurs, but so too was his oppo, which was good because Simon he practice.

  “We don’t want to fight; we just want our nd back” ur refrain, but Simon ig after the first ten times. He’d run out of patience for expining why no one was going to do the right thing just because it was the right thing to do.

  “If you want to leave, that’s yht,” he would answer dismissively if he even answered at all.

  No o, though he attributed that more to fear and cowardice than men who wao fight for what was theirs, at least at first. Most of them knew how to use bows, though, and a couple of the farmers were even halfway det at fletg new arrows, which was the skill that really came in handy because, after a few enters on open ground, he steadily went the way of Robinhood.

  He didn’t fight with a bow, of course. He stuck to his sword practice whenever he could, but ohe hors' was riled up, small patrols were darting here and there in an effort to protect the Lord of the nd from his own mistakes.

  Simon used each of these as an opportunity for his men to practice their ambush teiques. If a dozen men could all loose at ohere was no reason they couldn’t take out half that number, whether they were on horse or foot. Still, try as they might, they disappointed him on that front.

  “It’s okay,” Simon assured them after survivors would ride free and escape or once he’d finished cutting dow of the wounded. “Rebellion 101 is just taking a little lohahought it would.”

  In the end, though, Simon decided that his chosen side quest robably hopeless. That didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it, of course. Ohey’d started fighting back, they were widely regarded as heroes by the other local vilgers. Simon’s little band of merry mearted to get a few new recruits in time.

  They didn’t know just how poorly their local heroes were doing in most es, of course, but they didn’t have to. Simoainly didn’t tell anyone. He just drank his beer and did his part to spread the legend of Ennis the Bold, which is what they’d taken to calling the imagined leader of the little rebellion. Simon absolutely refused to let the man give credit to anyone else.

  “You’re the symbol,” he’d insisted, “These people will need a leader, especially ohe Vist is gone.”

  “You’ve seen us ihick of it,” the old farmer said with a ugh. “The wicked little man is going nowhere.”

  “Oh, he’s going, and soon,” Simon promised. “I have pces to be, but I’ll stay here until you’re out from uhe thumb of tyranny. Whatever happens then is on you.”

  With every disappointing e, they whittled down the Lord’s men, and with every battle, Simon shook a little more of the rust off. After a month of fighting skirmishes and tending to the wounded, he actually felt like he was getting to where he o be, or at least he was ba the road there.

  Just because all of his men lived didn’t mean that all of his enemies died. Even after they stopped esg, there were survivors that they didn’t just murder ht. Instead, Simon interrogated them ahose who cooperated best go with the terrible messages for their liege.

  Those interrogations told him that this couldn’t st too much longer anyway. The Vist had started with less than fifty good men, and they’d already cut down half of them. The man’s patrols had even started to thin out as he cowered in his hall and waited for the farmer’s rebellion to e for him.

  “It’s not even a proper fortress,” Simon said with a sigh as he looked at it for the first time. “It’s just a big house.”

  “The Vist said that Bra Hall is imperable,” one man volunteered.

  “I’ve seen few buildings more penitrable in my time,” Simon said with a ugh.

  “Well, even if someoo take it, he could fall back to that tower there and wait it out,” another man said, pointing. “The walls are stone and stout. A few archers could hold off an army until it lost i.”

  “That’s closer to true,” Simon agreed as he studied the thing that he’d first thought was a watchtower. He could probably implode it with a single word of earth or ruin, but that was hardly a ventional siege tactic.

  The longer he studied it, the more he decided that he had a better way. They didn’t move on the manor the following m, though. Instead, they pyed with the man for a few more nights to try to deplete his guards that much further. Then, ohey had an appropriate prisoner, Simon finally revealed the endgame to everyone else.

  . . .

  On the night that Simon rode to Bra hall, he rode with one hooded man in tow, who he swore up and down was the leader of the fearsome resistance, Ennis himself. It wasn’t Ennis, of course; it was just a captured guard with a passing resembnce, but the men at the door didn’t o know that. Simon had bound him well and swore, “I’ve e for my reward and will not be cheated out of it. I will only deliver this man to the Vist himself!”

  The guards at the door tried to dissuade him, and once, he almost had to draw his bde, but eventually, he was allowed to proceed and present his prisohough they forced him to disarm first.

  Simon took his time as they went ihe man’s home might not have been a grand castle, but it was certainly well-appointed, and the smells of dinner drifted down to him, even from the entryway. He took his time appreciating the finely made furniture and the trophies and ons of ages past. He saw nothing obviously magical, but now that he had a better eye for such things, he vowed to make a sed pass through on his way out the door and see if there were any upgrades.

  In the main hall, he found what he’d expected, a small family around a rge table, pletely outnumbered by their own guards. The size of the man at the head of the table made it clear to Simon that he wasn’t a fighter, but some part of him still hoped food duel.

  “Do these people ever realize that ohey need so many guards, they’ve already lost?” Simon asked the guard who was esc them in, but his only response was to look at Simon strangely.

  “State your name and your business, and present yourself to the Lord Bra,” the guard demanded loudly, stopping just ihe door and far from the table.

  Simon responded by yanking on the leash and pulling his prisoner forward into the room where everyone could see him clearly. “Who I am is unimportant,” Simon said. “Just as this man is. Not in the sehat all of us are unimportant, of course, but just in the sehat he’s not the person leading your little tax rebellion. For better or worse, that man is the Vist himself. You could kill my prisht now, and it would solve nothing.”

  “Nothing? What nonsense is it that you’re saying?” the Vist demanded as he stood, visibly annoyed. “Did y me the leader of this rabble or not? Either he dies, or you do, but both of you aren’t leaving this room alive.”

  “Kill him you like,” Simon answered, as he stepped forward and stole a bite of bread off the guest’s pte, “But hospitality ws being what they are, I don’t think you should casually threaten those that you’ve invited into your home and allowed to di your table. The Gods take a dim view of those sorts of people.”

  The man looked even more insed as he strode over to Simon and drew his sword. The uards drew their ons as well but backed off a bit to leave their weaselly-looking master room to work.

  The man thrust his swht through the prisoner without even looking at his face. “This is what happens to those who oppose me,” he said with a sneer as he looked at Simon, but Simon didn’t even flinbsp;

  Instead, he removed the man’s hood and shrugged. “Killing your own guards probably isn’t the smartest move, either. You keep it up, and soon, no one will be loyal to you at all.”

  The noble looked pletely uned, but Simon could see the reition and the revulsion on the faces of all the other armed men as his false Ennis fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. It was ohing to uand that you were poorly paid and disposable. It was ao see it.

  “Why would y one of my…” the noble asked in fusion before a spark nition crossed his face.“You’re one of them!”

  “I am,” Simon agreed, elbowing the man in the face as the ried to pull his bde free from the dying man before taking it for himself. The blow was light, but it still sent the blustering bully sprawling. “And right now, your home is surrounded by dozens of rebels. There’s no escape for anyone here!”

  It was a lie, of course, but it was a useful one, and the armed guards looked to each other uainly. A moment ago, they’d all been about to rush Simon. Now, they were less sure. When Lord Bra bolted from Simon like a coward, that uainty only grew.

  “Oh, e on,” Simon sighed. “I e into your pce of power looking food fight, and you do this? Even Varten would fight me, ahe worst person I’ve ever met!”

  For a moment, Simon allowed himself to hope that the Vist was running to get a neon. However, when he seemed tent to cower behind the two closest guards, Simon just shook his head in disbelief.

  “Are you two going to defend him? Or do you just want to walk away?” Simon asked, trying to be sp.

  The first man gnced back at the noble and said, ”He’s my Lord, and you’re just merary scum. Who do you think I’m siding with.” The sean wasn’t nearly so bold and just nodded in agreement with the first.

  Simon shrugged again, then took both of them out in seds. He used a vicious, showy thrust to get them off bance, and then he used the half-hearted feint of the quiet man to shield himself from the more serious attack of the first man. These two weren’t used to fighting together, which was fortunate because they would never do it again.

  Simon’s sed ssh caught the buard just above his breastpte at the base of his throat. Then, once he was bleeding instead of breathing, Simon batted the bde of the other man aside and ended him quickly with a thrust uhe armpit. Before the sed guard had even joihe first, the Vist stopped c and started running once more.

  This time he’d learhat no one in this room was going to save him at least, and he was running for it, but that suited Simon fi art of his pn.

  A couple of the guards looked like they might want to slow him down, but Simon said, “You fight me and die just like your friends, or you wait here and surrender ohe Vist is taken care of. Maybe take care of his family and make sure no acts happen.”

  He regarded them a moment lohe off at a jog after the waddling Vist. He almost caught up with him just outside the back door when the man slipped and fell. Simon ughed at that and taunted. “Stop making this so easy! Just put up a fight. Something. Anything!”

  Muddied and bloodied, the Vist reached the door seds before Simon and smmed it shut in his face. Simon didn’t gnash his teeth or threaten to break it down, though. He didn’t even use a word of force to shatter it. Instead, he smiled.

  He did that because Ennis and his own private army were already in that drum tower waiting for the man. Now, they could hash things out for themselves, or they could just kill the man and take their vengeahat way. Though Simon thought it likely that they would choose the former rather thaer, he left that decisioirely to them.

  So, instead, he went back to the man’s main hall to have a little dinner and expin what was about to happen to Lord Bra’s family. Ohat was done, he’d pick out a better sword, take a quick swing by the kit for some det food to take with him, and then he’d go to the stables to pick out a horse. He’d fought against injustice for weeks, but that was the only reward he needed. He had pces to be, after all.