Chapter 408 — Villagers
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
At last he discovered a cover board buried under earth, rubble, and charred wood, with an iron ring fixed to it.
Wright casually tossed a few of the larger stones and pieces of wood aside, then seized the iron ring with one hand and pulled hard, flipping the board open. In the darkness beneath, he saw more than a dozen pairs of terrified eyes.
"There are survivors here!"
The soldiers quickly gathered. And once a dozen fully armed soldiers appeared, the frightened commoners in the cellar had no choice but to come out. Wright counted them from the side: men and women, old and young, seventeen in all.
They were dressed in rags, sallow and gaunt, worn to the bone from days without sunlight. They had likely been hiding in the cellar ever since the noble soldiers left. Now they were so weak that even standing was an effort; they could only lean on one another in small huddles, staring at the unfamiliar soldiers with fearful eyes.
One combat soldier jumped down through the open cellar mouth, and a moment later climbed back up the ladder. "There are three more down there, already dead. Someone will need to help carry them up."
The squad commander ordered other soldiers down to help, then went over to the survivors. "Are you from this village? Are you all that's left?"
The survivors exchanged panicked glances. Some shook their heads again and again, some nodded hesitantly, and some merely stood there blankly, as though they had not understood the commander at all.
"Go fetch some food and water first," the commander sighed, turning to instruct those beside him. "No dried meat — they might choke themselves to death on it."
The food was brought quickly, but the dozen or so people only stared at it with wary, bewildered eyes. They swallowed their saliva, yet not one dared step forward, until the soldiers pressed the food into their hands; only then were they certain it was truly meant for them to eat.
Once the first person stuffed the food into his mouth, the others immediately began wolfing theirs down. Wright could sense that, as the food went down their throats, these people finally shed a sliver of their wariness toward the soldiers before them.
Though they were still very tense.
"Are you from this village?" Only after the people had recovered a little strength did Wright walk among them and ask, in as gentle a tone as he could manage, "Have you been hiding in the cellar all this time? Are there other cellars in the village?"
Several villagers looked at Wright's burly frame with some fear, but at last one of them spoke. "We are... there's no one else..."
Then the speaker pointed at the cellar behind him, and at the people around him. "Just us."
"We are the soldiers of Duke Gao Yang Cecil," the squad commander said from the side. "There's nothing to fear. You're safe now."
Yet the villagers seemed not to understand, showing no reaction at all to the commander's words, and eyeing the Molten-Cut Swords at the soldiers' waists with dread.
"Cecil's army is different from the others. We don't seize grain," the squad commander said, knowing perfectly well what these villagers feared. "Who burned the village? Viscount Consco's knights? Viscount Carol's men? Or some other noble?"
At the sound of those names the villagers could not help trembling, yet not one dared answer the commander to his face, as though afraid that speaking here would see them hanged from the gallows the very next day. But a few seconds later, a clear, childish voice blurted out: "It was the knights in white robes..."
The speaker was a child — a girl, judging by the voice — but she had barely gotten halfway through when an adult beside her swiftly clapped a hand over the child's mouth, so that the rest of her words came out only as muffled whimpers.