From atop his horse, Henry scanned the desperate faces of the villagers before him. Unlike the villages in Stahl or even Aritreia, this one held no young men, only frightened women and elders, clutching poorly made farming tools. Their hands trembled as they faced the armed troops that appeared in the middle of their village.
"Get off our land!" an elderly man shouted, his voice rough but frail. His skin was dry and cracked like sun-scorched, dry earth, and his thin arms shook as he raised a rusty sickle - "I may be old, but I will be sure to take down at least one of you if you try to attack us."
Leier, riding beside Henry, glanced at the old man. Her hand hovered near her short swords for a moment, but she didn't reach for them. "What are your orders, my liege?" she asked, her blue eye steady as she looked up at Henry, who sat tall and still, like an unmovable ancient mountain.
