The door to the Buckled Hen opened as Grimhild pushed it outward. Everyone finished their meal, and now they were onto more important matters.
Walking outside, Elizabeth followed behind Grimhild with Kyto, Jean, Obsidia, and a much-less-frozen Fhiron trailing in tow. The barkeeper stayed behind with the other villagers in the tavern, and the sleeping Zarutha who was unaware of everything at the moment. However, Chroliosa was nowhere to be found.
The group stepped onto the cobbled path that led toward the village square. It was quiet at first, with no villager in sight, but then, from beyond the low stone wall separating the tavern from the rest of the town, voices began to rise.
As they rounded the corner, Elizabeth gasped.
The square was packed with a dozen of villagers standing together; some armed with pitchforks, others with old swords, hunting bows, and reinforced tools.
There were blacksmiths in aprons, farmers with hardened hands, tailors clutching sewing shears turned into makeshift daggers. Needless to say, it was an army forged from desperation and resolve.
Lorence stood at the front, speaking with an adult who seemed to be an older hunter with a wolfskin draped over his shoulders.
When he saw Grimhild and the others approach, he turned and waved. "There they are!" Lorence called out. "The ones I told you about!"
A cheer immediately echoed through the gathered crowd.
Elizabeth blinked in disbelief.
"They… actually agreed to fight?"
Kyto gave a half smile, crossing his arms.
"Looks like they didn't need much convincing after all."
Lorence jogged up to them with anticipation.
"Morning!" The child said. "It took a bit of talking, but once word got around that we had help from a group of adventurers, everyone decided to join!"
Elizabeth glanced around at the faces of everyone; some were young and old, fearful and fierce.
"They're really going to stand against him…?"
Grimhild nodded with a calm, resolute voice.
"Vrunemir expected cowards. What he'll get is a wall of fire."
Obsidia tilted her head, scanning the villagers one by one, scanning their magical power and information archive.
"Statistically, the odds of success with untrained militia are low."
"But they're not alone." Grimhild turned to her. "They have us."
Fhiron smirked before letting out a confident laugh.
"Fwa ha ha! Let them come with an army! It's been some time since I've used my magic!"
Jean, always calm, adjusted the strap on his scabbard of daggers and stepped toward the crowd.
"We'll need to coordinate defense. Barricades on the eastern hill. Archers on the rooftops, or hidden in the treeline. We can use the smithy's forge smoke to obscure the town square."
The hunter with the wolfskin nodded.
"We've got some old oil barrels in the granary. We can use them to coat the outer paths—torch 'em when the enemy arrives."
Elizabeth stepped forward with a hesitant voice that slowly gained strength.
"And I'll be with the front. I may not have magic… but I can fight. I will fight!"
Fienta soon walked from behind Grimhild and her friends, arms crossed and chewing on something.
"If anyone dies in my village, I'm raising your ghost to work the kitchens of my tavern."
Grimhild smiled faintly.
"Fair trade."
Obsidia took a step forward with her usual cold voice.
"Shall I construct defensive barriers along the main road, master?"
"No, I've already told you to play no part in this, Obsidia, you're in time out."
The Golem's neutral expression seemed to shift slightly at Grimhild's comment.
"Master, I can assure you that I am fine."
"Do not disobey." Said Grimhild, stoic as ever. "Guard the tavern at the very least. Zarutha is still asleep."
Obsidia closed her eyes and accepted her position, bowing before Grimhild.
"I shall."
Turning around, she walked back into the tavern.
("Is all of this really necessary, Master Grimhild?")
A voice suddenly echoed in Grimhild's mind 0ut of the blue. It was Chroliosa—once again fused with Grimhild consciousness.
("Naturally.")
("But it all seems so unnecessary; they're working hard to set up traps, build defenses, and risk their lives when you can just end Vrunemir's men with a single spell.")
Grimhild gave a small pause.
("This is their home, Chroliosa. These brave villagers want to protect their land at all costs, and it wouldn't be right to take that away from them and steal their credit. Let them fight; this may even strengthen their village in the future.")
Chroliosa went silent, understanding Grimhild's words.
("Very well. Then I will only intervene when the time is right.")
+
An hour had gone by as the village's preparation began in full force.
Hammers clanged and tools scraped. Shouts echoed across the rooftops while villagers ran to and from the granary, hauling barrels of oil and stacking them near the pathways that led into the village.
Jean oversaw their placement, marking distances with magic and instructing younger archers to douse arrowheads in pitch.
"You'll light them on my mark." He instructed. "Don't waste your shots. You'll only get one volley before they retaliate."
In the smithy, Blacksmiths pounded scrap iron into weapons and reinforced the doors and shutters of nearby buildings.
Even the elderly helped; passing nails, pulling carts, and offering food and water to the younger fighters.
Elizabeth stood with Lorence near the front of the square, helping fortify a wooden barricade cobbled together from old carts, broken barrels, and chunks of fencing.
"Pull tighter here—yeah, like that!" She said, securing a thick rope between two support beams. "That should hold if the horses try to charge."
Lorence grinned proudly.
"We're really doing this."
Elizabeth gave him a small smile.
"Ehehe, yup, we are!"
Fhiron, meanwhile, hovered above the square, floating in midair via Flonta. He trailed his fingers across the sky, leaving behind faint lines of magic. "These will mark the detonation points. When they ride in, boom!" He smirked. "They'll think they've stumbled into a Dragons Den."
Grimhild stood atop the tavern's awning, surveying the chaos with a stoic gaze.
"This should do just nicely."
Kyto and a group of older boys crouched in the treeline just outside the eastern road, setting up makeshift caltrops; jagged spikes hidden under a thin layer of dirt and leaves.
He tied a strip of cloth around his arm to signal his squad, glancing up at the sun through the canopy.
"Almost time." He muttered.
All of a sudden, a loud sound echoed through the air.
At first, it was distant, but then it grew louder.
It was the unmistakable sound of hooves, rolling like a slow drumbeat.
Elizabeth turned toward the east, widening her eyes—then they appeared.
From the tree line beyond the far path, a row of riders emerged, dressed in dark leather armor with red sashes tied across their torsos.
The lead horseman was tall and broad, with a glaive strapped across his back.
They all had the Vrunemir Crest on their armor, being that of a black and white crow carrying a dagger inside its mouth.
One of the villagers whispered.
"It's them…"
Fhiron's voice rang out clearly across the rooftops, his demeanor changing to that fit for an actual king.
"Positions!"
The villagers widened their eyes and transformed in seconds.
Archers went into hiding along the upper floors and rooflines while children ducked into cellars. Doors slammed shut, and everyone was prepared.
The horsemen halted just outside the village gate.
There were maybe two dozen of them.
The lead rider stepped forward with a deep, commanding voice.
"What in all the Nine Realms...?" The lead rider muttered.
This wasn't the panicked village they expected. Barricades lined the square and archers lurked behind windows.
And at the center of it all, villagers stood shoulder to shoulder; armed and ready.
The lead rider sneered.
"You peasants must have grown foolish. Do you think sharpened sticks and broken tools make you warriors?"
No one answered as the wind carried only the creak of the barricades and the rustle of leaves.
The rider spat to the side and raised his voice.
"I will warn you now. Comply or be punished. There will be no second chances. Lay down your arms and—"
"Now!" Jean's voice cut across the square.
A flaming arrow flew from the roof of the granary, striking a barrel at the path's edge.
FWOOOM!
Fire exploded along the road and a curtain of flames rose high, cutting off the riders from retreat. Several horses reared in panic while the men cursed and tried to regain control.
"Caltrops!" Kyto's voice rang out from the eastern tree line.
The front row of horses stumbled with their hooves struck by hidden spikes. Screams erupted as a few riders were thrown off and slammed into the dirt.
"F-Form up!" one of the soldiers shouted. "Shields, now!"
But it was too late—
Fhiron, hovering above with glowing eyes, snapped his fingers.
A hidden circle drawn into the earth flared with light beneath the riders.
"Eliomade."
Boom! An explosion erupted upward, flinging half a dozen riders back into the treeline.
The villagers roared with their pitchforks and blades raised high.
Arrows flew from rooftops like hailstones as Jean led a small group to press the advantage on the eastern flank.
The enemy was disoriented, and their ambush seemed to be working.
From her spot behind the barricade, Elizabeth exhaled and prepared for combat.
"Let's go!"
She vaulted over the makeshift wall in front of her and charged forward with the others.
Despite having no magic, her martial arts were nothing to scoff at! With Vrunemir's men having no choice but to fight, Elizabeth completely outclassed them in close combat.
She dodged a swinging axe and landed a punch to a soldier's face before kicking his calf.
"We hold the line!" She shouted.
Atop the tavern, Grimhild's eyes scanned the battlefield calmly.
"Everything is going according to plan."