The journey to the bandit hideout was a nightmare of discomfort. Zofia's hands were bound tightly behind her back with coarse rope that chafed her wrists raw. A hood made of rough, foul-smelling burlap covered her head, plunging her into darkness and making every breath a struggle against the scent of unwashed horse and stale sweat.
She was thrown over the back of a horse like a sack of grain. Every step the animal took sent a jolt through her stomach. They were heading deep into the mountains, likely into the jagged peaks that bordered the Burvioriola region.
Time lost its meaning in the dark. It could have been hours or days before the horses finally slowed to a halt. Rough hands grabbed her, hauling her down. Her legs, numb from the ride, buckled as she hit the ground, but a shove kept her moving forward.
"Move it, mage," a bandit grunted.
She heard the heavy creak of a massive wooden gate, followed by the hustle and bustle of a camp, dogs barking, metal clanging on anvils, and the chatter of many voices.
"Kneel!"
She was forced to her knees. A moment later, the hood was yanked off.
Zofia gasped, blinking against the sudden light. They were in a large hall, built rough but sturdy from massive logs. Torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows. At the far end of the hall sat a raised platform with a large chair draped in red fabric and furs.
"Did I ask you to bring people back?" A voice boomed from the chair. It was commanding, rough, yet distinctly feminine.
The bandit leader who had captured them stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Boss, this girl is an adventurer."
"So what? Our bandit group isn't lacking former adventurers. If they have money, take it and leave them. If they don't, send them on their way. We aren't slavers."
"She's different," the bandit insisted. "She's a battle mage, but I saw her use three elements, Fire, Earth, and Water. And that's not all. She used healing magic on herself. Instantly closed a cut."
Silence fell over the hall. Whispers broke out among the bandits lining the walls. A mage with multiple elements was rare; a battle mage who could also heal was practically unheard of outside of high-ranking paladins.
The figure on the throne leaned forward, the shadows receding to reveal a woman. She was striking. She had short, choppy hair the color of rusted iron and a scar cutting through her left eyebrow. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. She wore practical leather armor dyed a deep crimson, not for show, but for war.
"Remove the gag," she ordered. "I want to hear her voice."
The bandit leader hesitated, then cut the cloth binding Zofia's mouth.
"Finally took it off," Zofia gasped, working her jaw. "I can tolerate the smell of garbage, but that cloth smelled worse than a vomit."
As soon as she finished speaking, her stomach rebelled. The hours of bouncing upside down on a horse caught up with her. She leaned forward and vomited right on the floor, mere inches from the Red Widow's boots.
"You disgusting wretch!" The bandit leader roared, raising his hand to backhand her.
"Stop!"
The Red Widow's hand shot out, catching the man's wrist in a vice-like grip. She didn't even look at him; her eyes were fixed on Zofia, a flicker of amusement dancing in them.
"She's been upside down on a horse for three hours, Kael. What did you expect?" She released him with a shove. "Clean it up. And get her some water."
"I ask you, what kind of mage are you?"
"Just a mage. How else do you want me to answer? I cast spells, things go boom or splash."
"Don't play dumb. How many elements can you use? Any special abilities?"
"Five elements," Zofia said honestly. There was no point lying; they had seen too much. "As for special abilities, I haven't discovered any yet. Maybe none. Maybe I'm just a jack-of-all-trades."
The Red Widow raised an eyebrow. "Five? All of them? And healing?"
"Yes."
"Then what is your rank? Silver? Gold?"
"Hey lady," Zofia sighed, shifting her bound wrists. "If you want to kill me, do it quickly. If you want to interrogate me over tea and cakes, untie me and let's sit down and talk properly, okay? My arms are losing circulation."
The hall went silent again. No one spoke to the Red Widow like that.
Then, the woman threw her head back and laughed. It was a loud, boisterous sound that echoed off the rafters.
"Ha ha ha! You have spirit! I like that. Kael, untie them. Both of them."
"But Boss..."
"Do it!"
The ropes were cut. Zofia rubbed her wrists, wincing as the blood rushed back. Beside her, Nathan was also untied, though he was still groggy from the drug, slumping against a pillar.
The Red Widow waved a hand, and a subordinate brought two chairs and a pot of tea.
"Here," she said, handing Zofia a cup of steaming liquid. "Usually, we only serve root tea to prisoners, it tastes like dirt. But I find you very interesting and funny, so I'm using my private stash of green tea. Drink."
"Thank you." Zofia took a sip. It was good quality, surprisingly delicate for a bandit camp.
Zofia was free now. She scanned the room. There were too many to fight head-on, but if she took the leader hostage... No, she decided against it. This woman had spared them when she could have killed them. Plus, with her Poison Resistance skill, she wasn't worried about the tea.
"So," the Red Widow said, sitting opposite her. "What is your story?"
Zofia recounted her story, editing carefully. She spoke of being transported to this world, the betrayal by her friend, and her decision to become an adventurer to forge her own path. She kept the Blacksmith Gildur, the Demon King encounter, and the System a complete secret.
"Ha ha ha, so that's why you can use all five elements," the woman mused. "If I remember correctly, legends say ancient summoned heroes were all talented like that. You're a rare breed, girl."
"You have known my name," Zofia said. "If you don't mind, may I ask yours?"
"Brat! No one is allowed to ask the leader's name!" Kael barked from the side.
"Shut up, Kael. Don't be rude to guests. Don't you see I'm talking to this girl?" The woman waved him off dismissively. She turned back to Zofia, her expression softening slightly.
"My name is Brenda. Leader of the Red Widow bandits."
"Red Widow?" Zofia asked. "Why that name? It sounds... tragic."
Brenda's smile faded, replaced by a cold, hard look. She swirled the tea in her cup.
"It is tragic. Once, I was just a woman. A wife. A mother. I lived in a village not far from here, in the Burvioriola region."
She began to recount the old days. She spoke of a peaceful life, of golden wheat fields and harvest festivals. But then, Count Henry took over the region.
"He is a leech," Brenda spat. "He raised taxes to fund his debauched parties in the capital. His soldiers took what they wanted, crops, livestock, women. Corruption rotted Burvioriola from the inside out."
Brenda's hands clenched into fists. "My family were farmers. We couldn't pay the new 'protection' tax. When the soldiers came... my husband stood up to them. They killed him. Right in front of me and my son."
Brenda took a deep breath.
"I didn't think much then, I grabbed his pitchfork. I killed the officer. Then I killed the next one. By the time the rage faded, my hands were stained red with their blood."
She looked at her hands now, as if seeing the blood still there.
"I convinced the village to flee. We ran into the deep forest, where the soldiers were afraid to go. We established this community. 'Widow' because we have lost our loves, and 'Red' for the blood we spilled to survive."
Zofia listened, captivated. This wasn't a bandit leader; this was a revolutionary.
"We steal, yes," Brenda admitted. "But only from the rich. Only from Henry's convoys and the merchants who profit from his corruption. We feed the poor villages he starves."
Zofia nodded slowly. "I understand. Sometimes, the law isn't justice."
A groan from the side interrupted them.
"Zofia?"
Nathan was finally waking up. He blinked, looking around confusedly. His head throbbed, and the last thing he remembered was a knife at his throat. Now, Zofia was drinking tea with a stranger who looked like she could bench press a horse.
"Finally awake," Zofia said, smiling. "Come here, drink some tea. This is Brenda."
Nathan stumbled over, sitting heavily. His stomach suddenly let out a ferocious growl that echoed in the silent hall.
Zofia burst out laughing. Even Brenda cracked a smile.
"Feed the boy," Brenda ordered.
While Nathan ate voraciously, tearing into a leg of roast mutton, Brenda kept staring at him. Her gaze was intense, almost piercing. Zofia found it strange; was she attracted to him?
As soon as Nathan finished eating and wiped the grease from his mouth, Brenda stood up. She walked over to him, reached out, and held his face in her hands, turning it side to side to observe him closely.
"Um... Brenda? What are you doing?" Zofia asked, tensing slightly.
"Those eyes... that nose..." Brenda muttered. She looked Nathan in the eye. "Boy, are you from the Brown family?"
Nathan froze. "How... do you know the Brown family?"
"Answer me! What is your relation to Count Brown? The merchant noble?"
"I... I am his son," Nathan whispered, fear creeping into his voice. Was this an enemy of his father?
Brenda gasped, releasing his face and stepping back. Her hand went to her mouth.
"No wonder! You look just like him when he was young."
"You knew my father?"
Brenda nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Years ago, before I married, I was a small-time merchant. I was falsely accused of embezzling funds from the Merchant Guild by a rival. It was a death sentence. No one believed me... except Lord Brown."
She wiped a tear away. "He investigated personally. He cleared my name and exposed the real thief. He saved my life. I would have died on the gallows if not for him."
She looked at Nathan with profound sadness. "Over the years, I always wanted to return to the capital to repay him. But life... it got in the way. When I finally heard news, it was too late. They said the entire Brown family had been convicted of treason and executed. I thought his line was ended."
"I... I survived," Nathan said softly. "A servant hid me."
"I never expected a member of the Brown family to still be alive." Brenda couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She hugged Nathan fiercely, shocking him. "The gods have mercy."
"What a small world," Zofia exclaimed, watching the reunion.
"Small?" Nathan asked, muffled by Brenda's shoulder.
"Nothing. Just a saying from my world. It means fate connects us somehow."
That night, the atmosphere in the camp changed completely. Brenda threw a grand feast in honor of their guests. Bonfires were lit, ale flowed freely, and music filled the mountain air.
Brenda stood on a table, silencing the crowd. "Listen up! This boy is the son of the man who saved my life! From this day forth, the Red Widows are his shield! We will protect and help him whenever he needs it!"
The bandits cheered, raising their mugs to Nathan. For the first time in a long time, Nathan smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile.
As the night wore on, the three of them sat by the main fire. The conversation turned dark as they spoke of Count Henry.
"He's a monster," Brenda growled, staring into the flames. "He's bleeding Burvioriola dry."
"We're heading that way," Zofia said, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Maybe it's time someone taught him a lesson."
"We can't just kill him," Nathan said. "That would bring the Royal Army down on the region."
"No," Brenda agreed. "But we can hurt him where it counts. His wallet."
She pulled out a map. "His main treasury is in Burvioriola city. It's filled with the illegal taxes he's collected this season."
Zofia smiled, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Brenda, how would you like to plan a robbery?"