A man on horseback, accompanied by ten more riders, approached the bodies of Miguel's pursuers. The leader of the group, an imposing man dressed in leather armor over a chainmail shirt, dismounted with an agile and decisive movement. His eyes scanned the scene with cold calculation.

He walked up to the body of Rubens, the leader of Miguel's pursuers. Squatting down, the man looked at the corpse with a look of disapproval. "Always reckless," he muttered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Standing up, he turned to his riders, who were waiting for his orders. "That bastard duke's son escaped," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "And he's probably with that lackey, Ricardo."

The leader let out a cold, calculating smile, his eyes gleaming with malicious anticipation. "This will be fun," he said to himself, almost in a whisper, as if already savoring the cat-and-mouse game to come.

He mounted his horse again, his demeanor resolute. "Let's go, we can't waste time," he ordered his men, who immediately followed his orders, mounting their horses and preparing for the pursuit. "Send a message to headquarters, we’ll need more personnel this time," he said to one of the men.

One of the riders asked, confused, "More personnel? I thought we were enough to kill that brat."

The man smiled malevolently, "Yes... we have a young Baron to kill and... a town to plunder."

Everyone laughed in agreement, eagerly awaiting the carnage ahead. With one last look at the scattered bodies, the leader tugged on the reins and set off, his group following closely behind.

---

--- Barony of Drakmoor ---

Arthur was working in the forge, immersed in the heat of the fire and the rhythmic sound of hammering. Suddenly, he noticed unusual activity in the street. Soldiers were running back and forth, preparing for something serious. Worried, Arthur put down his tools and went out to investigate.

He spotted a familiar soldier, someone he had talked to several times before. "Henrik, what's happening?" Arthur asked, addressing the soldier who seemed nervous.

Henrik, recognizing Arthur, stopped for a moment to respond. "Arthur, I'm glad I found you. There's a small army of hostiles outside the barony walls. We estimate between 300 and 500 armed men. By the way they're dressed, they look like bandits."

Arthur frowned, feeling a knot of worry forming in his stomach. "This is serious. How many men do we have to defend the town?"

"We have about 100 soldiers, but some are with Baron Miguel on his trip... Even if he returned, it wouldn't be enough to defend the town," Henrik explained, his voice laden with urgency. "We need all the help we can get. If you know how to fight, you'd be welcome in the defense. Otherwise, we need help evacuating the villagers. The orders are for civilians to go to the nearest town, near the beast-men's border. There's a garrison of soldiers there that can help, but they can't leave their post to reinforce us here."

Arthur took a deep breath, weighing his options quickly. He had military training and knew how to fight, but his son Bradd, who was beside him, was still an apprentice. "Bradd..."

"We should stay and fight, father," Bradd said, interrupting his father with determination, although there was a clear note of fear in his voice.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Arthur placed a hand on his son's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "You don't have enough training for this. I need you to help evacuate the villagers. They need someone young and strong like you to guide them to safety."

Bradd opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur squeezed his shoulder, firmly but gently. "I will stay and fight. It's my responsibility to protect our home. You need to go and ensure others are safe. Understand?"

Reluctantly, Bradd nodded, realizing the seriousness in his father's voice. "Alright, father. But please, be careful."

Arthur nodded and looked at Henrik. "I'll join you in the defense. Where do you need more men?"

"We're gathering at the main walls," Henrik replied. "Any help is welcome. We need all the strength we can muster."

Arthur turned to Bradd, who was beginning to gather his things frantically. "Go with them, Bradd. Take what you can carry and help others get out quickly. We'll meet in the neighboring town when all this is over."

Bradd paused for a moment, his eyes shining with worry. "I love you, dad. Please, don't die."

Arthur smiled sadly and hugged his son. "I love you too, son. I'll do my best to come back. Now go and do what I asked."

Bradd walked away, still reluctant but determined to follow his father's orders. Arthur watched him join the other villagers who were already beginning to evacuate before turning back to the forge to prepare.

He donned his leather armor with a chainmail shirt underneath, feeling the familiar weight on his shoulders. He put on the iron helmet, adjusted the wooden shield on his arm, and sheathed his sword. Each movement was meticulous, filled with purpose and resolve.

With his armor complete and his sword secure, Arthur left the forge and headed for the city walls. Around him, he saw lines of people heading in the opposite direction, towards the city's rear gates, all with fearful expressions.

As he approached the walls, he climbed the stairs leading to the top, where other soldiers were already organizing. The sight he found outside made him even more determined. The small army of bandits was there, a menacing mass of armed men, as if waiting for orders. He could hear all kinds of insults and threats coming from them.

The soldiers on the wall had expressions of fear and uncertainty.

"Let's prepare to defend our home," Arthur said to the soldiers around him, his voice firm and resolute. "We won't let these bastards get through us and steal everything we have. This is our home." The soldiers nodded, inspired by Arthur's presence and determination.

---

Thomas stood on top of the wall, watching the small army of bandits surrounding the city. The tension was palpable; every soldier around him was on high alert, but with no idea of what to do other than wait. Altogether, only 100 people had decided to join the fight, totaling 200 combatants to protect the city. Half of these were trained soldiers, while the other half were ordinary citizens who took up arms to defend their homes and families.

He couldn't help but reflect on the situation. Would the new baron return in time? Miguel was young but seemed determined and intelligent. However, even if he came back, would he bring enough reinforcements? The messenger Thomas had sent should have reached Miguel by now; it was only a day's journey, but how long would it take him to gather help and return? These questions raced through his mind, one after another, offering no respite.

Thomas looked down at the city, where the evacuation of civilians continued at a worryingly slow pace. Families moved slowly, carrying belongings, children, and the elderly. Disorder was inevitable; people were scattering, searching for relatives or friends, some paralyzed by fear. Ordering this chaos seemed impossible.

The bandits remained there, motionless, observing. Why weren’t they attacking? What were they waiting for? All of Thomas’s attempts at negotiation were met with insults or absolute silence. It was as if the bandits were surrounding the city, testing everyone’s patience and courage. This only increased the tension among the men, who were already on edge.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Thomas tried to think clearly. They were only 200 against an army that could be more than twice that number. They were at a disadvantage, not only in numbers but also in morale. He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He wasn’t a military leader, just a steward, but here he was, trying to keep everyone united and prepared.

A voice at his side pulled him from his thoughts. It was Henrik, the soldier he had known for years. “Sir, do you think they will attack today?”

Opening his eyes, Thomas saw the concern on the soldier's face. “I don’t know, Henrik. But we need to be ready for when they decide to attack. We have no other choice.”

Henrik nodded, but Thomas could see the doubt in the soldier’s eyes. He, like many others, was exhausted and worried. Thomas tried to convey confidence, but inside he was as uncertain as Henrik.

The bandits still remained unmoving. This deeply unsettled Thomas. Maybe they were waiting for reinforcements, or perhaps they were just trying to wear down the city’s resolve. Every minute that passed without an attack was a minute more to prepare, but also a minute more of uncertainty and fear.

Looking at the horizon, Thomas hoped to see any sign of Miguel and his return. Every hour that passed without news increased his worry. The city was in a precarious situation, and every decision he made could be the difference between life and death for many there.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas tried to calm his nerves. He needed to come up with a plan, something that could give everyone a chance to fight. He looked at the faces around him, soldiers and armed civilians, all with the same expression of determination and fear. They were in this together, and all they could do was wait and prepare as best as they could.

He turned his gaze back to the bandits, still motionless. “Why aren’t they attacking?” he wondered. “What are they waiting for?” The answer continued to elude him, and all he could do was hold onto the hope that Miguel would arrive in time, with enough reinforcements to change the course of the battle. Until then, he needed to stay strong, for himself and for all who depended on him.