"They squabbled, as usual,"

Hallbera said with a hint of bitterness in her tone,"

Some of them wanted to stay and fight, others voted for a stand. They reached no clear concession, it's a mess lass."

She sighed and Amelia couldn't help but ask,

"What about the hunters and rangers?"

The hunters and rangers were free of others' command. However, they were still bound by the village's law and so had a duty to defend it, still they enjoyed greater freedom than the villagers,

"We'll scout the enemy's movement and numbers, warn the militia if the goblins get too close. But..."

Hallbera trailed off, her hand resting on Amelia's shoulder tensed,

"We already know they have ten goblins for every man of the militia."

Amelia swallowed hard, even she, inexperienced as she was, knew that the odds were stacked against them. Ten goblins for every man? Two would be enough to take down an inexperienced fighter and it was not as though they had any fighters to begin with. Millers, farmers, herdsmen, and fishers, the militia had, but no warrior.

Perhaps the hunters could be counted as one, but their numbers were a tenth of the militia, that would mean a hundred goblins for every hunter... that's about right. They were done for if the goblins decided to cross the river.

"But... what about you, Ma?"

She asked unconsciously, even though, she knew the answer to her own question. Hallbera looked down at her daughter, a flicker of pain crossing her face, quickly replaced by a strained smile,

"I'll be fine, love. Rangers are trained for this sort of work. Although,"

She lowered her voice to a whisper, smiled,

"I might've ta' grind the rust off my blade before going anywhere."

Amelia smiled bitterly for she knew better. Rangers were skilled warriors, yes, but even the most skilled warrior would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

***

All evening that day and the day after and the day after that, hunters returned sporadically with reports of the goblin movements, each report they gave was worse than the last one.

By midday of the second day, the villagers began fortifying their defenses, sharpening their weapons, and gathering arrows in preparation for the worst. Herdsmen dispersed their herds over the vast grassland south of the village, in hopes of preserving at least some part of their fortunes.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Amelia found herself busier than ever with butchering livestock since the farmers seemed hellbent on gathering provisions for themselves. Old Trunip, the eldest farmer of their village, came to her twice, each time with his grandsons dragging a cattle or a sheep behind them.

[Skill Alert!]

|Butchery Skill Level Up*4|

|Novice Blade Mastery Level Up*2|

[Attribute Alert!]

|STR +4|

|VIT +1|

|DEX +4|

[Quest Alert*8]

|Job Quest: Butcher's Apprentice*6|

|War Quests: Assist with the war-efforts*2|

[Level Up!]*2

[Level 8]

***

The night draped over the village like a heavy blanket, wrapping the villagers in an uneasy darkness. The crescent moon hung heavily in the sky, darkness came early that day, blanketing all that could be seen and all that lay at the foot of the misty mountains, for many a league beyond the horizon.

Amelia sat by the firepit dug in the clearing before her family's cottage, drying herself after the day's hard work. One of the system's 'Quests' was to gather clean, drinking water and she had spent the entire day looking for a source that could satisfy the system's demand.

[Quest Complete: Quenching Thirst]

[Reward: +75 EXP, Waterskin(1L)*20]

She held her mother's longsword placed across her knee, over a drape of leather, using a wire brush to remove the rust off of it. Hallbera had left hours ago, slipping into the early morning darkness with the other rangers to keep watch on the goblins.

The cold, biting wind blew past her and she shivered from the chill going down her spine. She clutched the sword tighter, her fingers wrapping around the unfamiliar grip. It was a weapon she was unaccustomed to, it felt heavier in her hands, heavier than the longbow or quivery that she had some experience with.

Amelia closed her eyes, leaning back and steadying her breathing. She would not have herself overcome with panic, nor would hold the hope that nothing had gone amiss in her mother's venture, not when there was every chance of...

CREAK

A sudden noise from outside the fence jolted her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet, the longsword gripped awkwardly in her hands. With caution in her steps, she made her way to the door, her ears strained in search of a strange sound or indication of hostile intentions.

As she peered over the wall, she came face to face with a tall figure emerging from the darkness. Relief flooded her thoughts as she recognized the familiar silhouette of the one whom she waited for,

"Ma!"

She called out, her voice was a bit too loud for comfort but there was relief in it.

Hallbera glanced down at her, a weary smile tugging at her lips,

"Amelia, you should be inside,"

She sounded weary and grim, but her tone was soft nonetheless.

"I couldn't sleep,"

Amelia admitted, stepping closer to her mother,

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Hallbera reached out to ruffle her daughter's hair,

"I'm fine love,"

She said reassuringly,

"You should not underestimate a ranger, we are keeping watch on the Goblin's movements."

Amelia nodded, her eyes flickering sadly.

"I know... I'll help however I can,"

She spoke in a determined voice, her grip tightening on the sword's hilt.

Her mother's gaze softened with something akin to love for her daughter and she glanced at the blade held in Amelia's hand,

"I see you found something to pass your time with,"

Hallbera frowned before sighing and entering the house,

"Wait for me outside..."