Hawke's heart pounded heavily in his chest, and he forced himself to calm down as much as possible, striving to keep his voice steady: "Warriors of the Gray Forest Thieves, we are a caravan under the protection of the Leighton family, carrying only some worthless goods. We kindly ask you to allow us passage, we are willing to offer a toll in return for our peaceful passage."
His voice echoed in the narrow gorge, marked with evident humility and compromise.
The caravan guards gripped their weapons tightly, holding their breath in anticipation of the response from the rocks above.
A burst of coarse laughter and mocking whistles descended from above.
Immediately after, a huge figure, as robust as a bear standing on its hind legs, slowly emerged from behind a protruding rock and stood on the edge of the rock wall, looking down upon the entire caravan, as if examining a flock of lambs to be slaughtered.
That person was none other than Marcus, the leader of the Gray Forest Thieves.
