"Do you know what to do?" Amis asked, pointing at Rafael.
"Yes, Cenric instructed me that he should stay under constant vigilance," the guard replied.
Amis's eye twitched. He was expecting a different response. "Stay alert constantly; he is extremely dangerous. If he makes any sudden moves, you should kill him immediately. Understood?" The guard, unnerved by Amis's intensity, simply nodded.
What the hell?! Rafael's heart raced at the sudden threat to his life. Once Amis left, the new guard ordered him to return to his house immediately.
Rafael stood in front of the door after closing it behind him. What had once been a refuge from the outside world now felt like a prison—one that could potentially hold an even worse reality.
Calm down. He took a few deep breaths, then sat at the table to eat, opening the window to let some fresh air in. Suddenly, he heard someone enter the house.
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Cenric was standing at the entrance of the village when Amis approached him. "You called for me?"
"Yes. Look over there, they've arrived." He pointed to a group of covered wagons being pulled by horses in the distance. The road was straight enough that they could see the group approaching from afar.
"How is the harvest going?" Cenric asked, noticing that Amis wasn't addressing him with the respect usually due to his rank.
"It's as expected. We'll reach 50% by the end of the day if we keep up the hard work," Amis replied, though his tone was less than respectful. Inwardly, he was cursing Floutt's management team. If they had sent a warning earlier, there wouldn't have been a need to work through the night.
He wasn't concerned about them finding anything suspicious—his disdain was rooted in his hatred for those working unknowingly for the enemy.
They showed me so many proofs. Some were so obvious that I can't fathom how these people don't see it... or maybe they do and think it's the right thing to do, Amis mused, reflecting on everything the priests at Baron Frederic's castle had told him.
"You were right," Cenric acknowledged, turning to Amis. "But I won't kill him. He'll be sent to Baron Frederic. He seems to have knowledge of strange things, and perhaps those things can help us win."
Amis remained silent, his thoughts still focused elsewhere.
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"Sir Cenric ordered you to explain everything to me about that weapon you mentioned to him," the guard said as he entered Rafael's home.
At first, Rafael feared it was Amis, back to carry out his earlier threat, but he felt a wave of relief when he saw it was the other guard instead.
"Wouldn't it be easier for him to come here and listen himself?" Rafael asked, trying to buy some time.
"Do as you were ordered, or there will be consequences," the guard replied, his voice menacing. He stood by the door, ready to draw his dagger if necessary. His spear had been left outside, as it wasn't practical in the confined space of the house.
Well, if it means I'll earn their trust, then fine, Rafael thought.
He began to describe the appearance and operation of a trebuchet. After explaining it twice more, as the guard kept asking for clarification, Rafael was finally left alone. He watched as the guard exited, closed the door, and positioned himself outside.
Why the hell is this happening?! I said I would help them in the war, so why is he treating me like this? Rafael fumed, frustrated that Cenric seemed to have suddenly lost trust in him and was questioning him all over again.
Forget it, I have more important things to think about.
Three wagons arrived at the village entrance, accompanied by three men on horseback. One of the riders, dressed in clothes of similar quality to Cenric's, dismounted and approached the village chief.
"Hello, Mr. Cenric. Long time no see!" the man greeted him, as though they were old friends.
"Hello, Sir Lothar. What brings your esteemed self here? I thought you didn't like my village," Cenric replied with a slightly ironic tone.
While the two men talked, Amis and two other guards directed the wagons to an open area a few meters from the main road. Each wagon had two soldiers and a coachman on board.
The two men who had accompanied Lothar on horseback asked Amis how the harvest was progressing, where the grain was being stored, and other logistical details.
From one of the wagons, a cleric emerged.
"Heheheh, you still remember that? I'm actually flattered," Lothar responded to Cenric's remark. "Anyway, as you know, we're here to collect the grain tax. This time, it will be 72%."
"What?! Are you crazy?! How do you expect people to survive until the next harvest?!" Cenric nearly shouted in indignation. How were the villagers supposed to live? The current crop hadn't grown well, and now they were being asked to give up more than usual to the Baron.
"These are Floutt's orders, and you know why," Lothar said flatly. Cenric knew exactly why—it was because of the war. As he searched for ways to mitigate the damage, he suddenly remembered his loyalty to his lord.
Cenric tried to negotiate a lower percentage, hoping to maintain his reputation as someone who cared for the village. "I understand your concern, but I can't change the number," was the curt response he received.
After a bit more conversation, Lothar joined his group as they began setting up small tents to spend the night. Once that was done, they all had lunch while the villagers returned to the fields to continue the harvest.
About half an hour later, the cleric decided to take a walk around the village, observing the scenery, the houses, and the people at work.
The villagers recognized him immediately as the cleric sent by the church to preach. The church often sent clerics to small villages whenever possible to reinforce the people's faith and devotion.
After reciting some biblical passages to a woman, helping her find peace of mind while she worked, the cleric noticed a little girl running towards him.