90 The Shattered Accord
Two days into the march, the coalition forces arrived at their first waypoint—a sizable village near the border.
Although it was technically part of the Empire, the governnt's influence in these outer regions was weak.
That, perhaps, was why the village had grown larger than most.
As soon as the soldiers appeared, the village chief rushed out, accompanied by a crowd of trembling villagers.
He bowed so deeply that his forehead nearly touched the dirt.
"W-Welco, my lords! Please, tell us what you need, and we shall provide it! Only, I beg of you—please spare us from plunder!"
Looting was not prohibited under the Grand Accord.
It was, in fact, a common practice during warti.
Many nobles viewed commoners as expendable, and for so armies, taking supplies from villages was not an option—it was a necessity.
Thus, the mont the villagers learned an army was arriving, they had braced themselves for the worst.
But instead of demanding supplies by force, the First Prince rely scoffed.
"Calm yourself. Do you think an army of elite knights and lords would waste their ti looting a backwater village like this?"
If they were re rcenaries, that might be another story.
But the noble houses had their own carefully managed supply lines.
A handful of stolen goods would not be worth their ti.
"Just see to it that the soldiers are properly taken care of," the prince continued. "As long as you remain respectful, we will be gone by tomorrow."
The chief nearly collapsed in relief.
"Th-Thank you! Truly, thank you!"
He turned and hurriedly began shouting orders to the other villagers.
They scrambled to clear hos to make room for the soldiers, draw water from the wells, and—most notably—gather the more "presentable" won in one place.
Satisfied, the lords prepared to let their troops rest.
But then, William spoke up.
"Chief. I have a question."
The old man, who had been rushing about, froze in his tracks.
He quickly knelt, his voice quivering.
"Y-Yes, my lord? What would you like to know?"
William's expression was unreadable.
"Where are the children?"
The village had a sizable population, yet there were no signs of any young boys or girls.
The only people visible were adults.
"Th-The children, my lord?" The chief stamred. "We sent them away when we heard of the war... for their safety."
William's eyes sharpened.
"I see. And where exactly did you send them?"
"To Bodiam, my lord," the chief blurted. "It is the safest place in these lands."
William chuckled, his smile turning ice-cold.
"Your lie is pathetic."
The village chief's face drained of color at William's words.
"L-Lie? How could I possibly lie to you, my lord?! P-Please, have rcy!"
He fell to the ground in a full prostration, his body trembling as if afraid that any further misstep would cost him his life.
But William remained calm, his gaze steady.
"It's not uncommon for children to be sent away when war breaks out," he mused. "Leaving one's ho behind is difficult, but at the very least, parents might want to ensure their children survive."
"Exactly, my lord! That is why we—"
"However," William interrupted, his tone as sharp as a blade, "that only applies to those with the ans to do so. Most people in villages like this don't have the luxury of sending their children away. They either leave together or stay together. Do you know why?"
The chief stamred. "W-Why…?"
"Because evacuating one's family is a privilege of those who can afford it. In remote villages like this, survival is a daily struggle. There's no ti to think about fleeing."
The trembling that had gripped the chief suddenly stopped.
It was as if, for a mont, he had forgotten to keep up the act.
William swept his gaze across the villagers once more.
"And more importantly," he continued, "the distinction between children and adults is a luxury of cities and wealthy towns. In places like this, there is no such thing. The mont a child can stand, they are put to work. Once they can hold a tool, they are treated as an adult. Marriage happens early, and anyone past thirteen is already expected to hunt when beasts co near."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The nobles and knights, unfamiliar with the realities of rural life, glanced at one another in confusion.
The soldiers, particularly those from similar backwater regions, slowly began nodding in agreent.
Among them, the village chief remained still.
William let out a cold chuckle.
"Yet here we are. Not a single young boy or girl in sight. Everyone here looks to be at least twenty or older. Strange, isn't it? Where are the thirteen-year-old husbands? The young hunters? Surely, in a village like this, they wouldn't all be missing."
A thick, uneasy silence settled over the gathering.
Then—
A dry, hollow laugh escaped the village chief's lips.
His once docile eyes sharpened into sothing cold and predatory.
Splat!
A streak of light flashed, and in the next instant, the chief was hurled backward.
Blood splattered across the dirt as his severed arm landed with a dull thud.
The dagger he had attempted to drive into William never found its mark—Raymond's blade had intercepted him first, cutting through flesh and bone with lethal precision.
Raymond flicked the blood off his sword, his expression twisted in disgust.
"Filthy rat."
The wounded man clenched his teeth, his face twisted in agony. But rather than cry out, he used his remaining arm to brace himself against the ground.
"Kill them!"
The command was instant.
All around them, the once-docile villagers threw off their disguises, drawing concealed daggers and lunging forward.
Shouts erupted as the camp descended into chaos.
The coalition forces, montarily caught off guard, quickly regained control.
"Enemy attack! Shields up! Kill them all!"
"Crush them! Take down anyone who gets close!"
The assassins fought fiercely, but they were outmatched.
This was no undisciplined rabble—this was a trained army, composed entirely of elite soldiers.
The formation remained solid, the soldiers striking down the attackers thodically.
One by one, the disguised assassins fell, their ambush utterly failing.
"Kugh—!"
The last of the attackers collapsed, five spears buried deep in his torso.
With his death, the battle ended.
Only the village chief, now missing an arm, remained alive.
He laughed, the sound low and bitter.
"Heh… I never thought I'd be discovered by a brat, of all people."
Raymond stepped forward, his eyes blazing.
"You dare to laugh?! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
But the chief rely grinned, his expression smug.
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