Hanzo had been watching his village from the slope of the two hills that overlooked it when he heard a thunder of hooves approaching. He instinctively grabbed his bow and quiver, hiding in the nearby shrubs just as a group of men on horseback gathered where he’d just been. There were at least twenty of them.

“It looks like there are no military personnel in jurisdiction of this place,” the otter man leader said. “Most of the soldiers in Shoya have been sent to deal with the leviathan at Headrig’s pass so these peasants won’t be getting help from them. We’ll raid this village too.”

“I’d advise against that, Captain,” one of the men pointed out—he had two right hands. “Their crops aren’t ready. I’d say we leave them alone and raid them after two months. Their crops should be harvested by then and it’ll be less work for us.”

“Do you hear that, Messina?” the captain asked. “Are you and the girls fine with waiting that long?”

Messina was an elf with short spiky hair. He led his horse to the edge of the slope and studied the village. Two fierce-looking women followed by his side. One was dressed in leather and a white wide-brimmed hat, the other was wearing nothing but something to cover her breasts, groin area, and a pair of boots.

“I don’t care how long I have to wait—as long as you let me join the raid,” he answered. “But don’t expect my help conquering other villages. This place is the only target I have my eyes on.”

“You help us take this place, we take the goods, and you have the village all to yourself—that was our deal.”

The captain reared his horse and led his company up the hill and back down the road. The horses left a trail of dust as their hoofbeats gradually faded into the distance.

Bandits!

Hanzo didn’t bother going down the road and simply slid down the slope, dirtying his clothes. He ran straight to the well in the middle of the village and rang the alarm.

“Bandits!” he screamed, clanging the bell. “Bandits!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and headed to the common lodge screaming in fear. Inside, they armed themselves with hoes and sickles and sticks. The villagers were in confusion, accusing each other of ringing the alarm.

“It was me! I rang the alarm,” Hanzo announced. “I was up at the slope finding a good place to hunt when bandits rode up. I hid and heard them discussing of raiding this place after we harvest our crops.”

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“Why now?” another villager, Toshi, cried out. “The brigadier in Shoya was only able to spare ten soldiers to guard our village and sometimes that wasn’t enough. Now that cursed Moby Dick shows up and all extra soldiers were called to Headrig’s Pass. We had a drought last year and I thought the plentiful harvest this year would make up for it, but it was too good to be true.”

“It’s the perfect chance to, that’s why. The harvest is soon and the nearby town can’t send soldiers to protect us—even if we beg.”

“What will we do then?” Ritsu asked. “If they take our harvest, we won’t have any food to sell nor eat.”

“We’ll fight!” Hanzo declared. “We have to fight back.”

“We’re farmers, not soldiers.”

“What choice do we have?”

“The choice of surrender. All we have to do is cooperate and they’ll spare us our lives.”

“The bandits will,” Hanzo argued. “But there was an elf with them who said he wanted the village to himself.”

“We’ll die if we even think of retaliating,” Toshi reminded him. “Let’s bargain with them. We’ll beg them to leave enough crops to last us until the next harvest and we’ll keep offering them.”

“If they keep taking our crops, we will run out eventually and we’ll die anyway. If we fight, we’re at least giving ourselves a chance. We’ve taken down warriors before and we have gear.”

Ritsu snapped. “Those warriors were weak and we ambushed them in their sleep. A company of bandits will rush at us with their full strength. We can’t take them head-on."

“I’d rather die protecting this village than let it be taken.”

“Then pick up a sword and fight.”

The doors burst open as the village chief and elder, Akira, walked in. His presence alone commanded respect. Akira was the oldest and wisest of the village and he’d certainly know what to do.

After assessing the situation, Akira pursed his lips and produced an answer: “We’ll fight.”

“Chief, we’re farmers. We don’t have the strength to fight back,” Ritsu argued. “If we lose, then we’ll be worse off.”

“We’ll hire warriors to protect our village. Hanzo, Toshi, and Ritsu. At first light tomorrow, you three will head for Shoya and find warriors who will fight for our cause.”

“This is no time for a jest!” Toshi cried.

“It’s not. If bandits go on raids, every village they attack will burn to the ground. But the village left standing will be the ones that had sentinels protecting it.”

“We had a bad harvest last year. We don’t have enough money to buy even one sentinel.”

Akira spat in a cup. “We’ll offer them what we do have—food and shelter.”

Hanzo shook his head. He wanted to fight back, but the chief’s proposal were full of delusions. “They have grander ambitions than fighting for farmers whose only offering is food. We’d have better luck scaring off the bandits with scarecrows.”

“Then find humble sentinels who are willing to set aside their ambitions for something lesser. There must still be people who do good deeds out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“And if there aren’t?”

“Then a peaceful life will be nothing more than a distant dream.”