It appears the only way I am to be paid for this misadventure atop Sep’s Spine is to enable the escape of the swindler Ashtad. To achieve this I must challenge Bloody Wildur, the leader of the Ungodly Bandits, to a duel, which I am told according to their own ‘unwritten rules’, he will be honour-bound to accept. Like a Breton knight it would seem these bandits love the epithet of honour more than they fear death, although perhaps they are more akin to the nobility of Stormhaven, in that they confuse their honour with pride.
As a former legionnaire I wore my honour like armour, believing it to be a man’s greatest quality next to courage; yet what honour I had was stripped from me by the ritual bodkin of an elf necromancer. But what value is there to be found in a bandit’s honour who lives his life without morality or decency? And yet a bandit might ask what value is there in a soldier’s honour, if that soldier’s every deed is subordinate to another’s integrity?
And a peasant might ask, what use is honour at all in such an unjust land as this?