The next morning, under the persistent urging of the knight's attendants, the conscripts, including Mike Bai, reluctantly began to assemble.
A group of around thirty, a mismatched collection of individuals, finally formed something resembling a formation, with heights, builds, and ages ranging vastly. Some were as young as Mike Bai, while others were elderly with heads of silver hair. Here and there, whispers of unease filled the air as they discussed the upcoming battle—or, rather, the impending brawl.
The most well-equipped among them was a wealthy farmer, clad in a sleeveless, form-fitting chainmail and a spiked helmet. Besides his spear and shield, he also had a short sword sheathed at his waist. Upon noticing Mike Bai sizing him up, the wealthy farmer gave him a dismissive glance.
The others, however, wore a hodgepodge of gear. Some carried long weapons like pitchforks or maces, others wielded short spears or sickles. A few were dressed in nothing but linen shirts, while a few others wore leather armor. There was even one person who had tied wooden planks to their body with rough hemp rope. Their defensive capabilities could only be described as barely existent.
"Congratulations, Captain Genn!" Mike Bai teased loudly. Just moments earlier, Genn had been selected by Sir Andrew, the knight, to lead the second group of ten. The first group's captain, naturally, was the wealthy farmer.
"Stop laughing," Genn sighed in exasperation.
"Silence!" one of the attendants bellowed. The crowd immediately fell silent.
Sir Andrew, the knight, gleamed in his full shining silver armor as he strode into the center of the gathering, raising his voice to deliver a speech about "honor" and "courage" in an attempt to stir morale. However, the blank, indifferent expressions below him clearly spoke to their disinterest. It wasn't until Sir Andrew, growing frustrated, finally shouted, "The spoils of this battle need not be handed over!" that the mood shifted. The crowd perked up, their eyes sparked with newfound enthusiasm, and the wealthy farmer loudly praised Sir Andrew's generosity. But Mike Bai, on the other hand, furrowed his brow.
"Move out!"
Sir Andrew mounted his horse, joined by another knight and two elder attendants, leading the way at the front of the group. Behind them trailed the disorganized conscripts, now filled with energy, exchanging strategies on how to handle their spoils. The final two attendants brought up the rear, ensuring no one fell behind.
The small, disjointed column slowly made its way toward the village's edge, following a meandering river.
Genn, who had been nervously chosen as the captain, could feel the weight of his new role. Noticing that no one seemed to care about his new title, he subtly tugged on Mike Bai's sleeve.
"Enno, what do I do now?"
It took Mike Bai a moment to pull himself out of his thoughts. Seeing Genn's nervousness, he tried to act nonchalantly. "Before the battle, just listen to the knight's attendants. Once it starts, just stick close to me."
Seeing Mike Bai's calm demeanor, Genn's nerves finally began to ease, and he continued to walk alongside the group.
But Mike Bai couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't going according to plan. Observing the eager conscripts eyeing the spoils, Mike Bai sensed a hidden danger. Despite having more knights on their side, the generosity of Sir Andrew seemed almost too suspicious.
"Maybe the knight has a good heart," Mike Bai muttered to himself. "Or maybe he knows something we don't."
"Looks like Sir Jacob's situation is more troublesome than I thought."
After about half an hour of walking, they reached a clearing where Sir Andrew immediately ordered a rest. The conscripts, relieved, scattered in search of shade.
Genn pulled out his water pouch and was about to offer it to Mike Bai when he saw Mike Bai pull a one-meter length of rope from his pack, followed by several fist-sized stones.
"Enno, where did you get that rope?" Genn asked, intrigued.
"Borrowed it from the knight's supply." Mike Bai answered casually, oblivious to Genn's raised eyebrows.
Just then, a clamor arose in the distance. A group of about fifty people emerged from the forest, led by a knight on a towering warhorse. His full-face helmet and heavy chainmail gleamed under the sunlight, with a square banner fluttering from his lance. Behind him were four attendants, all mounted and carrying flags.
One of the attendants, notably well-armored in the same full chainmail and bucket helmet, held a pennant identical to Sir Andrew's.
Mike Bai narrowed his gaze at the flag, his expression darkening. He turned to Genn, giving a sharp command, "Stay close to me, don't wander off!"
Confused by Mike Bai's sudden seriousness, Genn hesitated. "Enno, what's going on?"
"It's nothing, just a slight shift in the situation, but nothing beyond what I expected." Mike Bai counted the opposing knights—six in total, including the commander, which matched their own number. He briefly noted that the enemy conscripts were also better equipped than their own, though that wasn't the most pressing concern.
"Gather!"
At the command of an attendant, the scattered conscripts slowly gathered into formation. The earlier energy had faded, replaced by deep unease. Several conscripts, visibly anxious, looked ready to bolt, but the attendants at the rear had their hands on their swords, glaring at them.
A few reluctant stragglers, fearing punishment, meekly returned to formation.
Sir Andrew and his father-in-law rode forward, while Sir Jacob and his attendants advanced to meet them. The two groups met in the center of the clearing, loudly discussing something.
Though Mike Bai couldn't hear the conversation, the frequent gestures and Sir Jacob's provocative circling around Sir Andrew told him what was happening. His instincts were soon confirmed when Sir Andrew returned, his face dark with fury, shouting loudly, "Rise! My soldiers!"
"Pray! May our commander grant us victory today," he bellowed.
At once, the conscripts pulled out their wooden or copper crosses, offering quiet prayers, hoping for victory or, at the very least, a safe return.
"Forward!"
With a sharp "clang," the attendant drew his sword and thrust it forward, giving the order. Despite their reluctance, the conscripts shuffled forward in disarray, forming a less-than-perfect square.
The opposing side mirrored their movements.
This battle, though it would never be recorded in history, was about to begin.
4o mini