Start reading from the beginning or reread part 4.

“Nothing escapes this mace,” said Nenshe as he brought the thing crashing down on the face of the terrified bandit, Bexcol. There was a touch of irony to his voice, but it was overpowered by the self-satisfaction he felt in eliminating the threat to his livelihood. He was dimly aware that his actions helped more people than just himself and his employer, but that thought was distant to his current one: “Bexcol is too good for you, now I think you’ll be known as mace-in-face.”

Nenshe swung the mace down into Bexcol’s head a few more times for emphasis, then straightened up and looked around the camp. His eyes had adjusted to the dark but the flickering campfire muddied the surroundings in his vision, so he squinted to get a better view. Bexcol lay at his feet and another bandit lay on the ground closer to the fire. Nenshe considered putting it out, but decided otherwise. He still had to find the sheep, and putting out the fire might raise an alarm.

Just as well, he thought when he finished dealing with the bandits and rounded up the sheep, he wanted somewhere to camp, and he didn’t want to have to start his own fire. No sense letting a good fire go to waste, he thought.