In the Lord's Hall, Gerald was in his seat, looking down at Arthur, Robard, and Renard. "How are the preparations?" he asked.
Robard cleared his throat and spoke, "my lord, Kale has built the additional rams and ladders that you have requested. He has now begun working on more shields for the infantry, and some mantlets to protect the vanguard from enemy arrows. Considering that we still have more than a fortnight until the assault, he should be able to craft a considerable amount of the requested equipment."
Kale had recently proven to be more than just a bowyer by outdoing most of the woodworkers in the castle. He had built the more complicated kind of battering rams by adding wheels to the normally carried ones. He had also added an overhead thick wood cover to protect the men pushing it. It was a rough imitation of the more sophisticated battering rams used in richer armies. Gerald had begun depending on the skilled craftsman for most of his needs when it came to wooden equipment for the army. Kale would craft the shields with the help of the blacksmith, and fashion some large wooden mantlets that would serve as gigantic wheeled shields.
Gerald eyed Arthur with pressed lips as he held back a smile. "I know you're dying to speak, Arthur. Go ahead."
"Thank you, my lord," Arthur let out a breath. "Organizing the army for the assault has been cruel on the treasury. We have already gone past 1000 gold coins in expenses, and I expect us to reach 2000 by the time of the assault. This will leave our treasury with 9000 gold, which isn't much different from how we began when your lordship first returned."
"There is nothing to worry about, Arthur," Gerald shook his head. "The gold we will gain from the Silver crew's camp will cover more than just our expenses."
Arthur looked troubled then said, "but what if—"
"If we don't win the battle?" Gerald interrupted him. "In that case, gold will be the least of our concerns. Whoever comes out defeated from this battle will suffer great losses. We won't just lose gold if we aren't victorious."
Arthur sighed, looking crestfallen then said, "I understand, my lord. And I'm certain of your victory."
"If you are certain of my victory, then you shouldn't be worry about the treasury," Gerald chuckled. "Robard, what did Edgar tell you about the Silver crew?"
"They number 2500, my lord," Robard said solemnly. "Their patrols are strict and their men have some discipline. It is difficult to surprise them. Our approach will certainly be noticed, and they will be prepared."
"Their numbers increased quickly," Gerald rubbed his chin.
"Edgar said that they never stopped recruiting, my lord," Robard explained. "As long as a man has seen blood before and knows how to handle a blade, they will accept him into their ranks. That's why their numbers have exceeded that of any ordinary mercenary band."
"I'm curious," Gerald said. "What is Robben Luwin aiming for? He is recruiting so many men, when he only needs a few to rob all the riches within reach. But I suppose we will know when we defeat him. I hope he surrenders instead of dying in battle."
"Edgar has said that his men would be able to gain us a small foothold on the wall at the beginning of battle, my lord," Robard continued. "But he will need our continuous support after that. It will be difficult for Luwin to use numbers against the Red Rain band on the narrow walls, but it's possible that they will be worn down over time."
"He doesn't have to worry," Gerald snorted. "Our men will be right behind him. If his men are slaughtered, my assault will be hindered as well."
"Very well, my lord," Robard said. "There is also the other matter of the brigands in the east preying upon the peasants."
"Yes," Gerald said. He had spoken to Robard about the matter. The head knight knew that he was going to play an act against the supposed bandits. Gasper would send some of his men to be sacrificed under the army's hooves while Robard would handle the sacrifices and won't pursue Gasper's crew anymore. After the sacrifice, there would be a confrontation between Gasper's men and Robard's men, but there wouldn't be a real battle. Robard would retreat to Ard with the heads of the unfortunate souls that were sent to their deaths, and Gasper would return to his camp with a victor's dignity. The plan was prepared, and all that was left was Gerald's announcement for the 'sweep'. "In two days, you will take the 500-man cavalry of Ard and sweep the east clean of bandit remnants. You will bring their heads back to Ard to be made an example of."
"Yes, my lord," Robard saluted. The head knight had argued before that the people would lose their newly-found faith in Ard's army when they find out that the upcoming 'sweep' of the east is unsuccessful. For now, the people would believe that the bandits in the east were just remnants. Robard would wipe them out, and the people would relax. But it wouldn't take long for the news to spread that a crew had sprouted up in the east. Gerald, however, had assured his knight that by that time, the army would have rendered more achievements.
"With no more matters at hand. This assembly's ended," Gerald announced to his aides. "You may leave."
ß-------------------------------------------------à
Gasper leaned on the table as he sat, listening to Master Rudolf. The latter was talking about their recent ventures in robbing the farmers in the surrounding lands. It wasn't gratifying to hear about. Gasper just rested his cheek on his fist in boredom. The farmers had been robbed clean by the previous crews. His men hardly found a thing of worth in the hands of the miserably poor people during the past two days.
"The Viscount should be sending his men in the next few days," Gasper yawned.
"Yes," Master Rudolf nodded. "The earlier the better. The bandit crews in the north have been getting more restless lately. A clash between our crew and the Viscount's will buy us enough respect to not be provoked."
Gasper nodded. He was about to talk about whom to send to receive the brunt of the Viscount's attack when there was a hurried knock on the cabin's door. "Come in."
The door was pushed open and Erick came in. "Chief," he said. "Something has happened."
"I doubt it could be anything new," Gasper snorted. "What is it?"
"Our men were in the village south of the forest earlier this morning," Erick explained while rubbing his fingers anxiously, as if trying to prepare Gasper for something. "They've brought back some goods, and even some coin."
"And?" Gasper cocked his head.
"There was an incident," Erick's voice got fainter. "A peasant had an argument with one of our men, Ornell."
Gasper stood up slowly. "What happened after?"
"The matter got a little heated," Erick said, slightly panting. "Ornell wanted to search one of the rooms in the peasant's house, and the peasant didn't allow it."
Gasper moved closer to Erick as the latter paused, but Master Rudolf signaled for him to continue.
"There was a little push and shove between them," Erick continue. "That's when the peasant's sick wife came out of the said room. She tried to separate them, but she failed. Eventually, the argument caused a slight chin injury to Ornell."
"Isn't Ornell one of Djark's dogs?" Master Rudolf asked.
"Yes," Erick nodded.
"Continue," Gasper said, still tense.
"Ornell didn't take it well," Erick said, growing silent for a moment. "He . . . He killed the whole family."
Gasper gulped through his dry throat. "Family?" he asked. "There were children?"
"The wife was with child," Erick said, his face a little pale.
Gasper heard the words and his body felt soft. He watched his hand shake ever so slightly. "Why did he kill both of them?" he asked, but he didn't give Erick a chance to answer as he followed with another question. "Did you bury them?"
"Ornell d-didn't give anyone a chance," Erick stuttered. "He dragged their bodies into the shed and burned it down."
Master Rudolf noticed Gasper's trembling arms and waved for Erick to leave. The latter complied hurriedly and left the cabin.
"Not even a burial," Gasper inhaled with all his strength. For some reason, he just felt that his breath was short, as if he couldn't have enough air. With each breath, the trembling in his limbs would become more intense. "The people I'm supposed to protect," he said, staring at the old steward beside him. It wasn't a mishap. It wasn't by mistake. It was cold-blooded slaughter for a chin scratch. "The people I am sworn to protect," Gasper growled, his voice hoarse. He dipped his face in his hands, his nails nearly piercing the skin.
"It's Djark's doing," Master Rudolf said. "They are trying to undermine you, Gasper. You gave the command to not harm peasants, and they defied it. They are daring you to act rashly."
"Oh, fuck them," Gasper raised his head. Then he headed towards the door, but Master Rudolf blocked him.
"You need to be calm," the old man said in a tranquil voice. "You should wait and think."
Gasper shook his head with a desperate smile. "Please," he said. "Please don't stop me. I can't let this go. I won't. If I do, I will be everything I've hated about myself till this day." Gasper's voice was pleading as he continued. "They died because I wasn't competent. So let me be."
Master Rudolf sighed and didn't move. But Gasper circled around him and walked out. The old man didn't stop him.
Gasper walked out of the cabin to the south of the camp. He spotted a crowd of men, mostly returning from collecting goods from peasants. There were guffaws and yells among the men but they quietened down as he approached. "Ornell," Gasper shouted. "Step forward."
A hairy man stepped out of the crowd in a leisure pace. He swayed a little as he stopped in front of Gasper. The shallow cut on his chin had already scabbed, and he had a mild smirk on his face. "What does the chief comm—"
He didn't get to finish his words before his eyes widened in shock. Gasper drew his sword and swung it at his neck in one fluid motion. Before Ornell could react, the sword had buried itself in his neck. He eyed the handle of the sword gripped in Gasper's hand in disbelief.
Gasper jerked the sword loose from the profusely bleeding neck. Then he swung it again with all his strength. The sword continued its work on the previous cut and cleaved through most of the bandit's neck. Ornell knelt as his eyes lost nearly all life. Gasper pulled the sword loose again as the blood splattered out of the nearly severed neck, then he swung it one more time. This time the head finally came free and fell beside the body.
The surrounding men gaped at Gasper and his blood-soaked hands. There was utter silence as everyone seemed to be digesting the shock apparent on their faces.
Gasper looked around, sweeping his eyes over his men. "I said," he yelled as loud as his throat allowed him, "no one is to kill the peasants." Then he gulped a deep breath. "And when I say," he continued, his voice full of fury. "You fucking OBEY!"
Ornell's blood had already formed a puddle below his feet as he panted, a few drops of blood running down his face. Nobody replied, but he knew that his words would ring in their heads for as long as they knew him. He turned around and slowly headed back to his cabin.
"Are peasants more important than us," a voice stopped him in his tracks.
Gasper turned around and spotted Djark crossing his arms. He was the one that'd just spoken.
"Are our lives less valuable than a peasant's, chief?" Djark loudly asked while staring Gasper in the eyes.
Gasper stared at Djark icily then walked towards him. He closed the distance between them after a few steps. His face came within a breath's reach of the former soldier's face. He knew that his answer now would decide how the surrounding men would take his previous action. He couldn't just silence Djark with a blow of his sword either. He would just seem like a madman if he killed another of his men. "No, Djark. Your lives aren't less valuable than a peasant's," Gasper answered, his voice spreading to his men. "But they are less valuable than my commands. So beware." Then he turned around and left, uninterrupted this time.