Kapitel 27: Chapter 24: History Tends To Repeat Itself
Tim let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Huh, I guess punching people isn't all that bad! I would've thought you'd at least need a sword to deal this that lot, but I guess ya really do learn something new every day." A short movement from his pocket and a waving tail of agreement, unseen by Bert, only served to raise Tim's evaluation of his minion even higher. Philbert's standards were high. Still grinning in appreciation, Tim turned towards the battered and bruised bandits on the ground with his grin turning slightly darker.
"Hey hey," He sneered, "any of you lot still awake?" There were, of course, no answers to his query, and Tim's frown deepened. "Right then, I suppose you," Tim sneered as he pointed at the fallen Kern, "wouldn't mind ol' Tim practicing his tap-dancing skills on what remains of your ribs then?" He took a step forward, and even before his foot hit the ground the bandit called Kern began to frantically wave his arms in terror.
"No! No!" He gasped out, his pleas for Tim to stop mingled with shouts of pain from jostled ribs. "I'll talk! I'll talk! What d'ya wanna know! Just please stop!" the man wailed.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Tim could make out Bert crossing his arms and looking on with disinterest as he steadily approached Kern.
"Okay, then first of all, why here?"
Kern's panicked expression was immediately replaced with one of confusion. "Why… here? What do you mean?"
Tim scowled with annoyance, his forehead wrinkling with impatience. "Yes. Why here? I admit this is a road heading to some backwater village, but it's still maintained by the country, and soldiers still patrol it on a regular basis. You lot are obviously bandits, and any self-respecting soldier would kill or capture you on sight. But still, you are here. Why?"
The light of understanding flashed through Kern's eyes. "You… don't know? They don't patrol here no more." Kern paused to cough up some blood onto the dusty road. "Some pack of monsters took out a few patrols about a week ago, and we haven't seen anyone official-lookin' since. People are leaving in droves, and we figured we would get some money before leaving too."
Tim fell silent. He hadn't expected that. No patrols? That's odd. I got laughed out by the guards when I tried to report what those fuckers did to my home, but they seemed pretty serious up until I mentioned the lizard I saw with them. Why wouldn't they take this more seriously if it's a normal pack of monsters? And it makes no sense for them to abandon their own…
Unless… Tim's frown deepened, but then gradually turned into a smile.
Oh that could be possible. Either their top brass decided it wasn't worth the effort to keep public order up around here, or they've decided that a hero is needed. Yet, if I remember correctly, that creates a problem.
Tim began to chuckle, ignoring the groaning bandits who had began to crawl away from him, and Bert, who had his head in his hands with the look of 'dammit he's doing it again' etched on his face.
Right then. Fact one. We have three active heroes around these days. Well, sort of active. He spread out his fingers and began to tick them off one by one. Bert looked at him funny, but shrugged, supposing counting on one's fingers wasn't that odd, all things considered. Elena is in the capital and supposedly has tunnel vision searching for me. That makes one. Kevin? According to the papers he is either still in the hospital or has just got out, but is recovering from my test either way. Plus, from what I read in Demu's book, I doubt he would move for this. Adrian? The most recent records of the book placed him in Drassington as well as his home base, same as Kevin and now Elena, and I doubt he would bother moving for something like this either. No, he seems to prefer more… human targets.
Tim glanced at his hands; three fingers ticket off. Well then, still not enough facts to make a decision, but it's still a nice break.
"And," He continued out loud with a mirthless chuckle, "if I'm even luckier, I can get some revenge against those bastards that took everyone away."
Then, slightly disrupting his thoughts, a voice rang out with a respectful tone behind him.
"Hey boss, not to rush you or anything, but shouldn't we get a move on? And what are we gonna do to these lads?"
Tim made a half turn towards Bert. "Eh. They've seen our faces, and a guy can never be too careful. Finish them and dump them in the woods, and make sure it's far enough from the road that no one will notice the smell."
Bert visibly sighed, but shrugged his shoulders in response, and as the pleas of the bandits sang through the air and into Tim's ears, he could only feel a slight twinge of guilt, quickly suppressed and removed.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Quite some time later:
Tim stood still, stunned, while Bert let out a low whistle.
"Even here?" Tim murmured as he took in the sight of the charcoal and smoking remains of what probably used to be Hempike village. The very site of the ruins, parts of which still let out the snapping and crackling of lazy flames, sent shivers down his spine. "I can't believe it…"
The sky was a beautiful blue, and everything had seemed perfectly normal, sans the bandit encounter. At least up until the duo noticed the odd amount of smoke. They had just crested the final hill before the village, if it could even be called that anymore.
Tim shivered even more as scenes of giants holding human arms began to play over and over in his head, and not even the rat in his pocket could nudge him out of his thoughts.
Beside him, Bert was transfixed for a moment as well. It really was impressive, in a morbid way. The houses, some knocked over like children's building blocks, some reduced to a handful of blackened support beams. People, once so full of life, reduced to motionless ragdolls, like stuffed toys for a giant.
"Hey; hey boss," Bert said softly as he patted Tim on his shoulder, "do you want me to look for anyone?"
Tim's head snapped towards Bert. "What do you mean, anyone?"
Bert did his best to ignore the shadows he could almost swear he could see in Tim's eyes. "Well, you know… survivors."
Tim shuddered. He hadn't thought of that. Then, an idea formed in his head. "Yes, we should all. And I pray we are lucky." A small glimmer of hope had formed in his mind, and he signaled Philbert with a tap of his pocket. "Hey buddy," he whispered, "you think your friends can do some search and rescue for me?"
A tiny movement and the usual emotionless voice reached out to him in response. "I shall speak, speak. The lesser ones will listen to the king, and the king thinks favorably towards you, you still yet."
And almost as soon as the last word from his ratty friend burrowed into his ears, once-empty hillside that Tim and Burt stood on began to burst with life, rats uncountable swarming from nearly every direction towards the town.
Tim took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked forward, with an extremely nervous Bert in tow.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
CarthagoDelendaEst
CarthagoDelendaEst A poem, by Cato (who does not know how to write poems):
Dentatus picked the locks last night,
So my thoughts turned to what's right.
No longer chained to basement floor,
We cannot be kept here anymore.
I snuck into my editor's room,
Where he will usually loom.
The editor not there,
Out torturing proofreaders with his bear.
I placed a claymore landmine under his bed,
While his bear he fed.
Death to the editor.
Death to the editor.
Death to the editor.
Sincerely,
Cato
One of two authors
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein