That night I felt restless, marked by Lysander's absence from the house. My mind spun around in a whirlwind of possible outcomes, ranging from his capture to the grim thought of his execution. Despite the uncertainty, I promised myself that if Lysander didn't return by morning, I would venture into the northern forest myself and search for him.

The reality of the risks involved troubled my mind. Even if I managed to reach the forest, there was no certainty that I could safely approach the barbarians' location. Lysander's absence was an indication that something might had happened to him. If he has been captured, my chances of surviving an encounter with the barbarian horde would be significantly lower compared to his.

That morning, snow began to fall heavily, bringing a certain serene beauty to the scene. The slow descent of snowflakes against a backdrop of gloomy clouds offered a tranquil contrast to my turbulent thoughts. Unfortunately, this peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a horse stopping sharply outside the front door. I heard its whinny clearly, reverberating through my window, followed by the distinct sound of the rider dismounting, and a series of urgent knocks on the door.

I rose from my bed, dressing as quickly as possible while the persistent knocking echoed throughout the house. I hurried to the door and opened it, revealing Bernard, a member of our town's militia, standing before me.

"Sir, I apologize for disturbing you so early in the morning, but there's an urgent situation at the gates that requires your immediate attention."

Without hesitation, I rushed to the barn and quickly mounted my horse, following Bernard towards the town's entrance. The snow had piled up significantly around the gate, hindering my men's efforts to open the reinforced doors. I noticed militia archers with their arrows drawn, all aimed at a solitary figure on horseback just in front of the gate. The man had his hands raised, a clear sign that he had come to deliver a message.

The guards managed to open the gates, as I moved forward to meet the mysterious figure. His behavior and attire did not resemble a typical merchant or a messenger from a neighboring town. The blunt weapons hanging from his leathery belt and the sight of his rotten teeth gleaming through a wide unsettling smile, painted a picture far from ordinary. His rugged appearance and behavior hinted at a more ominous purpose.

I halted my approach stopping at a safe distance to confront the strange man. "What do you want?"

The man lowers his hands, staring directly at me. "Are you the town's Lord?"

"I am his brother. You can leave your message with me; I will deliver every word you say."

The barbarian's disdain was evident as he spat onto the snow. "Alright then. Our leader, Gallager the Ruthless, has a message for your town. We're running low on supplies; our men are cold and hungry. Provide us with food and shelter, and he promises to spare your town from complete annihilation."

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His message was unmistakably clear and filled with an implicit threat. Arland's words echoed in my mind, reminding me that these savages never make polite requests; they were known for their merciless tactics of destruction and taking what they desired by force.

I maintained my composure, despite the tension rising within me. "I will relay your message to the town's Lord. If you provide us with your location, we can send a messenger with his response."

The barbarian's smile broadened, revealing a cunning glint in his eyes. "Hold on, hold on. I haven't detailed Gallager's specific demands."

Snowflakes continued to land softly on my face, contrasting the grim sensation building in my gut. I braced myself, knowing well that whatever demands he was about to make would likely be unrealistic, perhaps deliberately so, to justify their planned assault on our town.

"Let's hear them."

"Our army needs three wagons filled with fresh meat and grain. Additionally, all the pelts you can muster, with a specific request for bear pelts from Gallager himself. A minimum of twenty concubines to entertain our men, and every single coin you have in your town's coffers."

"You must understand that we are a modest town; meeting your leader's demands will be a difficult, likely an impossible task."

The barbarian messenger erupted into a maniacal laugh. "You have till tomorrow morning to get us what we want. I will suggest you start working on it immediately."

With another laugh, he whipped his horse's reins and quickly galloped away from the town. Standing there, I fully grasped the impending danger looming over our town. It was clear that the demands were a ploy, likely meant to weaken us before an attack. The priority now is to prepare for the evacuation of the women and children – a task that the militia must undertake immediately, given the barbarians' unrealistic demands.

As I turned to walk back into town, Bernard closed the gate behind me. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, filled with an intense fear I had never seen before in a man.

Bernard's voice trembled with desperation. "Randall, what are we going to do? My wife and children... they will be in grave danger if we don't give them what they want."

His words echoed the concerns of every person in our town, amplifying the pressure of the situation. I found myself caught in a storm of emotions, struggling to find the right answer. Lysander was still missing, leaving a void in leadership at this crucial moment.

I place my hand over Bernard's shoulder, understanding his concerns. "Please, if you have somewhere to go, if you have access to shelter, grab your family and leave."

"You think they will be safe in the caves?"

"Temporarily, yes. But it's only a matter of time before the barbarians discover the location. Right now, I can't guarantee anyone's safety."

Upon hearing this, Bernard, overwhelmed by fear and concern for his family, dropped his sword to the ground and hurried towards his house. I watched him go, aware that many of our men had been paying close attention to our conversation. Realizing the impact of our discussion, I felt compelled to address them all.

"If any of you fear for the safety of your families, please, you are free to leave."

As my words settled in, a noticeable shift occurred among the archers stationed at the gates. Many of them began to walk away, their faces etched with concern. Amidst this exodus, one archer remained determined at his post.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

Phillip, breaking the rhythm of Lysander's tale, began to pour drinks for everyone, his actions drawing attention to himself. "That man, who stayed behind, was me."

William, visibly taken by surprise by this revelation, stood up from his chair, his eyes wide with awe. "You stayed behind to face the barbarian horde? Were you, like Lysander, an orphan child?"

Phillip chose to remain silent in response to William's question, focusing instead on continuing to pour ale into everyone's jacks.