Liam sat heavily on a worn wooden stool, the weight of the village's loss etched across his face. "After I went to bed last night," he began, his voice low and steady, "Olivia roamed the village, desperate to find any survivors. She searched every nook and cranny, every shadowed alley, trying to save the few wounded souls left behind. It was a grim endeavor, but she managed to pull a handful from the brink of death."
Leon leaned in, his brow furrowing as he listened. "What about the others? How many are left?"
Liam sighed, glancing at the sun rising over the horizon, casting a pallid light over Selva Village. "Well, besides the more than sixty young and strong men who were conscripted and haven't returned, it's just Olivia, her father, and seventy-six of us left. It's a pitiful number." His voice grew softer, almost reverent. "Among us are over sixty women and young girls. The only surviving men are a handful of young lads and a few little children."
He paused, taking a deep breath as if steadying himself. "Some escaped the disaster by hiding in cellars and the cracks of granaries. The boys who survived... well, the reasons are not easy to speak of. You can guess, I'm sure."
Leon nodded grimly, his heart heavy with the unspoken truths.
Liam's gaze drifted to the open space outside their homes. "Out there, the bodies of the 124 villagers lie, cold and still. It's haunting. And the remains of the Kantardars, those who fell to the griffins, are stacked outside the village, awaiting a proper burial. We have to find a place for them, somewhere far from here."
He gestured toward the piles of discarded armor and weapons, remnants of their attackers. "All their gear has been stripped away, and now it sits in Olivia's backyard and the old warehouse, a grim reminder of the battle."
"How many spoils did you manage to count?" Leon asked, trying to shift the conversation to something less painful.
Liam nodded, his expression shifting from sorrow to a hint of pride. "We found nineteen horses still alive. Three of those were noble steeds, outfitted in armor. They're in the girl's stable now; the only place fit for such fine creatures. The others? They're out at a nearby farm, looked after by some of the local kids."
He grimaced, his voice thick with regret. "There was a noble warhorse, a magnificent creature, but Olivia had to put it down in the battle. Its hind legs were mangled, and it died not long after. That loss hurt; along with it went hundreds of Serian gold coins."
Liam continued, "Of the sixteen remaining horses, they're covered in plain robes, mounts for Kantadar's hired cavalry. And as for the cavalry horses caught in the griffins' onslaught, we lost about thirteen or fourteen. Even though they weren't worth much compared to the noble horses, they still represented a significant loss, worth a hundred gold coins each, at least."
He paused again, the memories of the carnage weighing heavily on him. "As for weapons, we gathered quite a haul. Olivia still wields one of the noble swords we recovered. In total, we found four noble swords, thirty-five various blades from the knights' squires and mercenaries, most of which are still usable. There were twenty-three cavalry spears, though four of them are beyond repair."
Liam's expression grew more animated. "We also found two long-handled knight's halberd axes; one's in my hand now, the other is out back. It's a heavy piece, specially crafted. Only I have the strength to wield it effectively."
"And what about the armor?" Leon asked, curious.
"The heavy knight armor I wear now came from the knight, Leon you took down yesterday," Liam explained, a hint of pride mingled with grief. "It's the only set that fits me well. The helmet? Well, it's been smashed to bits by Leon's magic, but the rest remains intact."
As Liam recounted the details, the enormity of their situation hung in the air, a tapestry of loss and survival woven together in the shadow of their village's destruction.
Liam leaned back, rubbing his chin as he spoke, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You know, Leon, besides this set of knight plate armor I'm wearing, I also found something special. All the armor parts that Baron Doson lost when he was here... I managed to gather every piece scattered across the village."
Leon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? You got it all back together?"
"Yeah," Liam nodded proudly. "I pieced it together and stored it in Olivia's warehouse. I'm saving it for you; thought you might want to try it on, see if it fits. It's the most luxurious set of armor we've got."
"That's quite something," Leon mused.
Liam wasn't done yet. "There's more. We also found two other sets of knight plate armor. One is still intact, it belonged to the knight prisoner we've got locked up behind my place. The other set, though..." He paused, shaking his head. "It was pulled off the bloody remains of the knight killed by the griffin. That poor bastard was torn apart. Only the leg armor and helmet survived; the rest of it's just twisted scrap metal now."
Leon grimaced at the thought but kept listening as Liam continued, his voice gaining momentum. "Out back, there's a pile of armor from the mercenaries and cavalry, but half of it's destroyed. Still, we managed to piece together about fifteen decent sets. Some are already handed out to the surviving young men in case any of those Kantardars return for revenge. We're not taking any chances."
As Liam rattled off the inventory, Leon could see a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "And that's not all," Liam added, leaning in conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly. "When I was going through all those armors and weapons, I found something else; a lot of gold and silver coins. Turns out that bastard Kantadar had quite the stash. We won't have to worry about money for a while."
Leon blinked in surprise. "But... wasn't that money stolen from the villagers? Isn't it wrong to just take it?"
Liam shot him a sharp look. "You think I'd steal from our own people? Come on, Leon. I made sure to separate the villagers' belongings. All the local coins used in Orland were given to Olivia for safekeeping. The money I took; it's all stamped with the Kantadar emblem. Those soldiers stole it elsewhere, and now it's ours."
Leon let out a slow breath, realizing how foolish his question had been. "I see... you're right. The villagers wouldn't have had Kantadar currency. So it was all theirs."
"Exactly," Liam said with a triumphant grin. "And there's a lot of it, too. I'd say it's worth at least three hundred gold coins. I packed it all in a small box, and it's hidden under Olivia's bed."
Leon blinked, surprised by how close he had been to such a fortune. "Wait, so when I slept on the floor last night... there was a box of gold just a few feet away?"
Liam chuckled. "Yep. You were practically sleeping next to a treasure."
As Leon absorbed the information, his thoughts began to swirl. The weight of everything they had gathered, the spoils of battle, the unexpected wealth, they were no longer the struggling survivors they had been before. As grim as it was to admit, this tragedy had turned the tide of their lives.
"It's strange," Leon said slowly, his voice tinged with a mix of emotions. "It feels almost wrong to think of it this way, but in some twisted sense, this disaster... it's completely changed our fate. We went from being wanderers with barely anything to our names, to... well, to being rich."
Liam nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean. It feels unfair, especially to the villagers who died. But the reality is, we've got horses, weapons, armor, and now a box of gold. This changes everything for us."
"Most of it was thanks to the griffin, though," Leon added with a wry smile. "I doubt His Majesty Deathclaw would care about our newfound fortune."
"True enough," Liam said, chuckling softly. "The griffin didn't exactly keep tabs on the loot, so it's ours now."
As their conversation wound down, Liam stood and handed Leon a sword; its hilt gleaming in the dim light. "Here, I almost forgot. This is the Undead Noble Sword. I was holding onto it for you."
Leon took the weapon, feeling its weight in his hands. "Thanks, Liam. I appreciate it."
With a nod and a quick farewell, Leon made his way back to Olivia's house. He stepped carefully through the crowded first-floor lobby, where women and children slept in fragile peace. The quiet was thick, almost sacred, as he moved quietly toward the backyard.
When he finally reached the yard, he found exactly what he had expected; mountains of armor and weapons, a stark reminder of both the battle they had survived and the spoils that now lay before them. Each piece was a symbol of the turning point in their lives, a blend of loss and newfound power.
Cavalry spears leaned haphazardly against the wall, their wooden shafts weathered from use, while piles of armor parts lay scattered in a disorganized heap nearby. Dozens of swords, still sheathed, were strewn across the ground like forgotten relics of the battle that had taken place. The scene was chaotic, a battlefield frozen in time, but Leon's attention was elsewhere.
His eyes drifted toward the stable just a short distance away, where three majestic noble warhorses rested within the fenced enclosure. Their armor had been removed, leaving them bare yet no less imposing. Leon's heart quickened at the sight of them, these were no ordinary beasts. They were creatures of power, bred for war and endurance, unlike anything from his former world.
With a grin of excitement, Leon approached one of the black horses, drawn to its sleek form like a moth to flame. It was as if he were approaching a rare beauty, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch the glossy coat. The horse's head shifted restlessly, its nostrils flaring as it picked up the unfamiliar scent. It let out a few sharp snorts, searching for its master, but its years of disciplined training kept it calm despite the anxiety.
Leon ran his fingers along the horse's mane, marveling at the smooth, well-groomed texture beneath his hand. This wasn't just any horse, this was a warhorse, trained and bred for battle, standing before him like a relic of ancient power. It reminded him so much of the "horses" he'd known on Earth, yet there was something distinctly otherworldly about it. Stronger, more muscular, and far more valuable than anything he'd ever seen before.
In this world, still bound by the rules of feudalism, owning such a mount was like owning the pinnacle of luxury on Earth. It was the medieval equivalent of a high-end sports car, the kind of possession that set men apart from the common rabble. As Leon admired the horse's thickly developed muscles and the sense of raw strength that radiated from its body, he realized how much of a prize it truly was. These horses weren't just for show; they could carry heavily armored cavalry across long distances, and still have the stamina to charge headlong into battle.
But, like all luxuries, there was a price. "Owning a warhorse is one thing," Leon thought to himself, "but keeping it well-fed and healthy is another." The daily costs of feed alone would be enormous, the kind of expense only a wealthy noble could afford. It reminded him of owning a luxury car back in his previous life, buying it was just the beginning; maintaining it was the real challenge.
"At least your previous owner left me with plenty of gold coins," Leon muttered with a smile, patting the horse's side. After indulging in his admiration for a while longer, he reluctantly pulled away, turning his attention toward the warehouse in the backyard. Liam had mentioned something about the noble knight's plate armor being stored there, and Leon was eager to see it for himself.
The door to the warehouse wasn't locked, so Leon pushed it open and stepped inside. His eyes immediately fell on the set of armor Liam had spoken of; the Kantadar noble knight's plate armor. It was a breathtaking sight.
The armor gleamed with a silver sheen, polished to a mirror-like finish. It was intricate, beautifully crafted, with a helmet adorned by a double-snake carving at the top. The neck guard fit snugly, leading down to a breastplate that connected to the hips and shoulder shields. The overlapping plates on the shoulders and arms gave it a layered, gothic look, while the iron gloves and greaves were detailed with ribs and flexible joints, designed for both protection and mobility.
Leon's hands itched to touch it, and he did; lifting the breastplate and marveling at its weight and craftsmanship. He admired the balance of form and function, how it managed to be both elegant and formidable. Wearing this would not only make him nearly invincible in battle but also turn heads with its striking design.
But as he looked closer, his excitement dimmed just a little. The helmet, with its entwined snake carvings, and the visor, which bore human face reliefs, felt too deeply tied to Kantadar culture. Though the artistry was flawless, Leon couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort. These decorations, while significant to the enemy, weren't something he wanted to wear as a reminder of those who had fallen at his hand.
"Looks impressive, no doubt," Leon thought, turning the helmet over in his hands, "but if I'm going to use this in the future, I'll need to make a few adjustments."
He placed the helmet down and made a mental note. He'd have to find a blacksmith or an artisan to replace the headdress and visors omething more fitting for him, something that felt like his own. Until then, he'd appreciate the armor for what it was: a symbol of victory, but one that still needed a personal touch to make it truly his.
Leon glanced to his side and spotted a complete armor-lined inner jacket along with a sleek, open-chested black robe laid neatly next to it. His curiosity piqued, he couldn't resist the urge to try them on, eager to see how they fit. With a quick motion, he removed the noble sword from his waist and set it aside, his hands reaching for the garments.
He shook out the robe first, but the moment his eyes landed on the Kantadar family emblem stitched prominently on the black fabric, a wave of disgust washed over him. With a grimace, Leon tossed it aside, the robe crumpling to the floor in a heap.
"Definitely need a new robe," he muttered to himself, brushing his hands clean as if ridding himself of the very feel of it.
Turning his focus back to the inner lining, Leon slipped it on with ease. Now came the real test: the armor. He took a moment to examine its intricate structure, marveling at the delicate craftsmanship. Despite its complexity, it didn't seem impossible to wear solo. It would just take some effort.
The quiet warehouse soon filled with the metallic clatter of buckles and straps, Leon working diligently to fit the armor onto himself. As he sat down on a nearby crate, twisting awkwardly to reach the buckle that connected the shoulder armor to the back, he grunted in frustration. He was nearly there when a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Let me help you."
Leon turned, surprised by the quick footsteps approaching. Standing in the doorway was Olivia, wearing a new corset dress that made her seem both delicate and strong at once. She offered a small, knowing smile.
"Thank you," Leon nodded gratefully, realizing how much he could use an extra pair of hands. Armor was never meant to be donned alone; knights had squires for this very reason.
"There are a few leather buckles on the back," Leon explained, standing up and turning to show her the connection points at his shoulders, back, and under his arms. He stood still as Olivia stepped closer, her fingers deftly working through the buckles and knots with practiced precision.
Olivia moved with care, fastening each piece securely. Her touch was light but sure, and before long, Leon was fully armored. He felt the weight of it settle over him like a second skin. With a nod of thanks, he grabbed the elegant sword lying beside him and strapped it to the belt at his waist. He took a few experimental steps, his armor clanging with each movement, then jumped lightly on his feet to test its fit.
It felt a bit loose inside. Leon frowned slightly, realizing that his body; a sixteen-year-old's frame, was still too small for the armor, which had clearly been made for a taller, broader man. The previous owner, likely a muscular nobleman over 1.80 meters, had been much larger than Leon's current height of about 1.75 meters.
Still, it wasn't a deal-breaker. Armor didn't need to be form-fitting like clothes, and the gap wasn't enough to affect its function. As he glanced down at the gleaming silver plates, the intricate designs and polished sheen, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. The noble sword at his waist completed the ensemble, and Leon found himself wishing he had a mirror to see just how knightly he looked.
"How do I look? Pretty cool, right?" Leon asked, a grin spreading across his face. The excitement of wearing such impressive armor had clearly gone to his head.
Olivia tilted her head, a look of slight confusion on her face. "Cool?" she repeated, unfamiliar with the word's modern slang usage.
"Uh, I mean... do I look impressive?" Leon quickly corrected himself, realizing the word wouldn't translate easily in this world. "Never mind, it's not important."
He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Olivia had just endured a tragedy. Dozens of her friends and fellow villagers were gone, and here he was basking in the glow of his new gear. His enthusiasm dimmed slightly as he recognized the weight of the moment.
"Are you here to see me?" he asked, trying to shift the tone of the conversation.
Olivia nodded, her expression calm but serious. "My father has woken up. He wants to see you, and to thank you."
Leon straightened at that. The thought of meeting her father again, now awake and aware, sobered him quickly. Whatever joy he felt from his new armor would have to wait. There were more important matters to attend to.