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At dawn the next day, Aden woke up earlier. On the dining hall dining table, he was waiting in line to get his breakfast and as he moved forward to get his meal he was surprised by a woman who served him.
"Did you guys have been working in the kitchen this whole night? you really need a rest." Aden asked the timid woman he just saved last night, Laura. She worked in the kitchen with her husband Gilbert and two other cooks.
"And you really need your strength," Laura insisted, sliding a steaming bowl of beef jerky soup towards Aden. "How can you protect us with an empty belly?"
As if to emphasize her point, she pressed a freshly-baked loaf of bread into his hands. The inviting warmth and tantalizing aroma wafting from the golden-crusted loaf made Aden's stomach rumble with hunger.
He couldn't resist the enticing fragrance that filled the air, rich and comforting. Bringing the bread closer, he inhaled deeply, savoring the delightful blend of yeasty dough, toasted grains, and the unmistakable essence of a wood-fired oven.
Aden's resolve crumbled in the face of such temptation. With eager hands, he tore off a modest chunk, the soft interior still steaming and beckoning his taste buds. He popped the morsel into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered closed as the flavors danced across his palate.
A low, appreciative moan escaped his lips as the warm, pillowy bread seemed to melt on his tongue. Notes of sweetness from the fermented dough mingled with a subtle nuttiness, achieving a perfect balance. He chewed slowly, relishing every nuanced taste and texture.
"You all really know how to bake bread," Aden complimented through a contented smile, his voice thick with genuine appreciation. "This is incredible."
He swallowed and immediately tore off another chunk, unable to resist the siren call of the simple yet sublime creation. Each bite reinforced his opinion - this wasn't just well-made bread, it was pure artistry in edible form.
Laura, the talented baker responsible for the mouthwatering creation, blushed at Aden's compliment. Her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, a combination of bashfulness and pride. The simple act of baking had become her passion, and seeing others enjoy her creations was a rewarding experience.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice tinged with a mixture of shyness and happiness from Across the table.
Laura beamed with pride at the high praise. "We take great care in our bread-making," she explained with a warm smile.
"It's one of the few joys we have left in these trying times. Being able to provide even small comforts..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting momentarily as emotions flickered behind her eyes. It was a simple expression of gratitude, but it held within it a deep sense of accomplishment.
Rallying herself, Laura gestured towards the soup. "Now eat up! We'll need your strength for the battles ahead."
As Aden happily obliged, scooping up hearty spoonfuls of the savory broth, he couldn't help feeling a swell of admiration for these resilient villagers. In the face of overwhelming adversity, they clung fiercely to whatever simple pleasures and traditions they could preserve.
"Hey, move!" a villager complained to Aden who blocked the line.
⁕⁕⁕
Aden looked around the bustling dining hall, searching for a quiet corner to enjoy his meal in peace. He made his way towards an unoccupied table in the far corner when a hushed conversation nearby caught his attention. At a long table sat a fellow with an unusually bowl-cut hairstyle, conversing in low tones with Indry, little Jasmine, and a few other villagers. Beside the bowl-cut man sat a cute, petite woman tenderly attending to his meal – Aden instinctively assumed she was the man's wife.
They seemed oblivious to Aden's presence as he lingered nearby, unable to ignore their murmured exchange.
"Did you see those thugs the captain brought in?" the bowl-cut man groused. "I can't believe this empire has sunk so deep it had to ask for help from prisoners."
Indry furrowed her brow. "They don't look like prisoners to me, Ralph."
Ralph took a bite of bread, chewing pensively before swallowing. "They are prisoners, Indry. I talked to one of them." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"..one of them is a slave fucker."
Indry quickly covered Jasmine's ears, shooting Ralph a reproachful glare for his lack of discretion around the young girl. His wife, Agnes, mirrored the disapproving look.
"Let him eat by himself, Agnes. He's not a baby," Indry chided gently.
One of the other villagers leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Slave fucker?"
Ralph nodded sagely. "Aye, that one particular foreign prisoner is a slave fucker, a camel sucker, Median highway bandit kidnapper – a ruhimi."
The gathered villagers gasped, having heard the ominous tales and staged depictions of the infamous ruhimi people.
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"I thought he was an Emerian," another villager offered. "They're very common, especially with the recent joint naval army between Regalyon and Emer Thalassia."
Is that toupee-headed fool talking about me? Aden wondered, his sharpened hearing – a byproduct of Jinn's rigorous training – allowing him to eavesdrop. He risked a sidelong glance at the oblivious man.
"We have to be careful," Ralph continued in a harsh whisper, "Especially with that ruhimi. I believe he was up to no good. One moment you're fine, the next you wake up in shackles on a slaver ship, headed to Elwa's know-where to be sold off."
Deciding he'd heard enough, Aden turned and made his way towards the corridor connecting the dining hall to the main keep. He found an empty windowsill and settled onto it, placing his meal tray beside him with a weary sigh.
As he began to tuck into his food, he felt something soft and warm graze his shoulder. Aden turned to find Indry passing by, her gentle eyes briefly meeting his before she continued on her way.
Was that her standing up for me just now? He couldn't help but wonder, recalling her words of defense amidst Ralph's unsubstantiated accusations. They hadn't spoken much since he'd rushed off the previous night to aid the evacuation efforts. A faint smile played across his lips. Aden finished up his breakfast in no time.
⁕⁕⁕
At the front yard of the courthouse, supervised by the village chief, Father Edgar, the villagers quickly barricade the encampment and shore up all approaches to the courthouse. They began busily gathering junk and furniture from the courthouse and surrounding buildings, arming themselves with pitchforks and sharpened wooden poles to use as spears. With each passing minute, they made further progress in their preparations for defense.
The barricade didn't need to be aesthetically pleasing as long as it could stop or slow down the harpies headed toward the courthouse flying at low altitudes. They prepared for battle by arming themselves with rocks, banging on metal sheets, and wielding long sticks or poles.
"All men to the yard!" Suddenly the recon knights yelled over and over while banging their shields with their sword pommels.
"ALL MEN TO THE YARD!"
After the breakfast, Captain Willem assembled the men, villagers, and volunteers alike.
The captain would prepare their body for the long day they would face. This day would demand extreme physical activities and the last thing they need is having a muscle cramp or a sprained ankle when a harpy coming at them.
Captain Willem, emerged onto the training grounds with the sun casting its morning glow upon his armor. His gaze swept across the assembled unit—a mix of veterans with weathered armor and fresh recruits with gleaming faces. It was time for their daily pre-training routine, a ritual that went beyond the physical; it forged camaraderie and discipline.
"Men," Captain's voice carried authority, "before we delve into drills, we must first prepare our bodies. You are all soldiers now, and a soldier's strength lies not just in his weapon, but in the resilience of his limbs. Follow my lead."
A ripple of acknowledgment moved through the unit as Captain Willem began the stretching sequence, each movement deliberate, each pause purposeful.
He started with neck tilts, the men mimicking the controlled motions, feeling the stretch along their battle-weary necks. Captain's gaze remained sharp as he moved to shoulder rolls, a gesture that echoed the many burdens they carried.
"Backward rolls," he commanded, setting the pace. The synchrony in their movements began to paint a picture of unity—a tapestry woven by warriors.
The captain's armor clinked subtly as he led arm swings, trunk twists, and side bends. The routine became a dance of strength and flexibility, a ballet of discipline beneath the Stormstep's gloomy sky.
"Rotate those hips," Captain Willem directed, his own movements fluid despite the encumbrance of armor. His voice echoed across the training grounds, mingling with the morning freeze.
The stretching routine served not only to limber up the body but also to evaluate the comfort and practicality of their armor. Each bend, twist, and reach tested the equipment's flexibility, ensuring any necessary adjustments could be made for maximum mobility and ease of movement in battle.
Leg swings and knee hugs punctuated the fluid routine, the disciplined motions executed with a subtle grace. The men – from hardened combatants to village militiamen – mirrored the captain's lead, absorbing not just the physical stretches but the unspoken lessons of preparedness and mental fortitude.
"Hnngh," Gilbert grunted, determinedly following along as best he could. Though his bulky frame lacked the natural flexibility of some, he attacked the routine with admirable enthusiasm.
"The realm is falling and here we are, stretching our meatcocks," Victor complained, his voice laced with the bitterness of one deprived of sleep. The former flamboyant actor glowered at the proceedings with sagging eyes.
A giggle escaped young Oliver's lips as he transitioned into the next stretch with fluid ease, his lithe, coltish frame bending with the simple grace of youth. He was undoubtedly the most flexible among them.
"This is stupid," Victor reiterated, his disdain tinging each syllable.
"It's not," Aden countered calmly, holding the stretch with steady poise.
"It's not," Hjalmar echoed, a bead of sweat trailing down his furrowed brow.
"It's not," Ethan affirmed through gritted teeth, forcing his body into the unfamiliar contortion.
"Baka janai," Maeda murmured, the foreign phrase carrying a tone of pragmatic acceptance.
The combatant volunteers replied to Victor one after another, in succession, as they all raised their hands following Captain Willem's instruction to stretch.
"Steady stretches save lives," The captain groaned as he guided them through calf stretches and ankle rolls.
Captain Willem looked at the men and said, "Stretching prepared you for what's coming. The physical exertion you will face is beyond compare, so the last thing you need is a muscle cramp or a sprained ankle when a harpy's coming at us."
With a booming voice, Captain Willem declared "The stretching session, is now complete, now you are dismissed."
"Thanks for your time and back to your post," Corporal Knightly shouted. "finish your task!"
The men released a collective sigh of relief as they resumed their task of constructing the barricade that would secure the courtyard.
The men dispersed for the day's training, Captain Willem stood at the heart of the grounds watching the knights adjusting their armor.
After Captain Willem led the men to limber up, he checked whether the hwachas were already in effect, and the men with bows and arrows shall accompany the hwachas unit. they will repel the harpies in the sky and force them to fight at a lower altitude where they can meet with melee weapons.
Ser Cedric, Ser Gareth, Ser Percival, and Gilbert would serve as the hwacha operators. Old Man Jedd would remain in the rooftop bulkhead, ready to make any necessary repairs to the hwachas on the go.
The four smugglers were tasked to reload the hwachas while giving cover for the recon knights with bows and arrows.
The mute and the kid would aid them by bringing up boxes of arrows and boltcaster cartridges from the lower story for quick reloading. The captain made sure they would remain out of harm's way even when the fight started.
This team of experienced and new individuals was sure to maximize their effectiveness in the use of these powerful siege weapons.
While Aden, Maeda, Hjalmar, and Ethan would be on the ground behind the barricade with villagers men to meet the harpies with melee weapons. Armed with their makeshift weapons in hand, they were ready to repel any harpy that dared come close.
Once all the preparation was done and in place, they were ready to greet the harpies.
⁕⁕⁕