“So.” I looked at the bewildered Torphin in front of me. “Tell us why all of us will die.”

“Because they have an army. A real army. Not just a… a bunch. They are too many for us!”

I sighed.

The same words Torphin had uttered when he arrived in the village. And the reason for hours of chaos as the villagers awoke to his distraught howls. Good lord, as if the atmosphere wasn’t depressed enough. Now we had crying children, anxious housewives, and men who packed meals and clothing for an overhasty escape.

Hence we had dragged him into Elder Rolf’s hut, settled the commotion using all kinds of meaningless assurances, and prevented families from marching into the nightly forest. It took Elder Rolf, Thea, and me hours and any thought of sleep had long vanished. Instead, we gathered once more, ready to question the now tranquil scout.

But his answers didn’t help much.

“We know that already.” An irritated response by Thea. Elder Rolf had experienced countless struggles and emergencies during his life, while I used my game knowledge to determine the situation. Compared to us, the last hours had taken the biggest toll on her.

“Let it go.” Elder Rolf cut in, before turning his attention towards Torphin. “Our messenger had told you about the army. So what has changed? Its size?”

A quiet and soothing voice.

Elder Rolf found the right words, helped Torphin put his mind in order, and acted like an anchor as the hunter answered the questions and uncertainties inside his mind. The complete opposite of our forceful attempts. Another sigh. And another feat I couldn’t achieve despite all my game knowledge.

“I found them beside a small river,” Torphin recounted after he had collected his thoughts. “They were resting, and I tried to count them. But they were too many. I didn’t know the numbers. But I think they are five villages.”

“Villages?” I looked at Elder Rolf.

“His village is small. They shouldn’t have over fifty people.”

“So… two hundred and fifty leprechauns.” I nodded. A number that matched my rough estimations. “More importantly, did they -”

“Wait!” Torphin interrupted me. “Aren’t you scared? Surprised? The entire river bank was full of them. And you nod and go on.”

“Not really,” I answered. “Gladford wouldn’t pay mercenaries for a small group of monsters. And they wouldn’t enroll the farmers either. Nobody would waste money for nothing. And the scouting force I fought contained a Púca. So I expected at least two hundred of them.”

“Púca?”

“A black leprechaun with a bone mask,” I explained. “Did you see any?”

“There was one,” Torphin answered after some thought. “But he didn’t wear a mask.”

“This one’s was broken.” I laughed. This was the best piece of news I could hope for. “So there might be only one Púca within their forces.”

“So we have a chance,” Elder Rolf asked, watching my improved mood.

“We do. A Púca is the lowest form of their chieftains. Uhm… something like a village Elder,” I explained. “So each Púca only commands a minor force. If this is the same Púca I fought before, we won’t have to worry about ambushes or reinforcements for now. And as long as I can keep it in check, we’ll win.”

I saw the relief on their faces. Torphin’s eyes gleamed with newfound hope.

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And I felt even more guilty inside. It wasn’t a problem to stall the Púca for a period of time. But what of it? Would a hundred farmers win against two hundred and fifty Leprechauns on their own? The recruits couldn’t even fight one leprechaun head-to-head. The numbers wouldn’t add up. Even with some defenses and our basic gear in the calculation.

Drew and Torphin might take out multiple leprechauns, but that was it. Even the most optimistic prediction would leave another hundred leprechauns to slay. So I needed to be the crucial factor. And whether I could fulfill that role was a gamble. This entire battle was one giant gamble.

The reasonable choice would be an escape. Survive as a beggar in Gladford’s streets and some day one might find a new home. Though Gladford’s residents wouldn’t enjoy their freshly beggars-filled streets. So who knew? Maybe the villagers would only end up as another recruit troop.

So the realistic options were either a slow death in a city or an idiotic gamble between fast death and success. And even if we defeated the leprechauns’ scouting force. An army was made of more than just scouts. And if a chieftain led a small detached force, then…

Master Bernier had been right. The wise choice was to look away and ignore all these problems.

“Now we understand the enemies’ strength, but where will we fight them?” I changed the topic to distract them. “So… Torphin, where is that river? And could you see their destination?”

“Four days of running to the southwest. With their pace, it’ll take them another five or six days to arrive. And if they follow the river, they’ll end up at the village by the western ford. But…”

“But?”

“They ignored us,” Elder Rolf answered. “They didn’t send any men and preferred to be on their own.”

“So we have no duty to help them. And if we are lucky, they’ll turn upcountry and attack Gladford.”

“We can’t just-,” Thea began, but I interrupted her.

“But if we are unlucky, they might attack other villages after we lost track of them. And everything was for naught.”

“Then we should-”

“Thea!” Elder Rolf raised his voice. “I understand that village is special to you. But this isn’t about your feelings. This choice determines our future.”

“I’m sorry,” Thea replied and fell silent.

“Did your see their weapons,” I asked the Torphin. “Did anyone carry a black bag full of metal balls? Or was there a gray leprechaun with a red headdress?”

“No, neither. Only a black one. And the others carried knives, shields, and short spears. There was nothing special about them.”

“So no shamans…”

This was, after all, only a minor scouting force. Not enough to besiege a town or fortification. They would avoid Gladford and raid the villages and fields to prepare for their army’s arrival, hoarding food and weakening Gladford’s ability to withstand a prolonged siege.

“Going by their weapons, they’ll attack more villages,” I reported the core of my thought. “So the question is less about if and more about when we’ll fight them. And where.”

“You mean?”

“Right now we have two options. To fight them now or to delay the confrontation. A delay would allow for more training and raise our chances, but a long waiting period will dampen the mood. Every farmer wants to return to his fields.”

“Let’s say we decide to fight now,” Elder Rolf answered after a glimpse at Thea.

“Then we have two more options,” I explained. “We can march towards their village and defend it. Or we can lure the leprechauns towards here.”

“But then our homes would burn,” Thea exclaimed.

I nodded.

“But we also built defenses. So if we have to pick a battlefield, this would be the best option.”

“So you would pick the second option,” Elder Rolf asked.

“I wouldn’t. Because this isn’t my decision to make.” I looked at both Thea and Elder Rolf. “This is your home. And I can’t promise you an undamaged village. So it’s your decision to make.”

“And if we fight in the other village?”

“We won’t have any defenses in place, so at most we can use some of their huts as shields. Battle prowess will decide the fight, and we would most likely lose. But as the village isn’t part of our alliance, we can always leave and resort to small skirmishes to wear them down. As long as nothing horrible happens, we might win.”

“If we fight in this village, we can use the remaining time to improve our defenses.” I continued after a momentary pause. “Our chances of success are a lot higher with the walls in place, but the price for failure is also that much more devastating. Your own houses and fields will burn.”

“So either an unlikely gamble with a small loss or an all-or-nothing gamble with better chances?”

I nodded.

“If you want the best outcome with the least amount of wasted human lives, an ending where you can protect everyone, then you have to fight here. But if you want to protect your home, use skirmishes and hope for the best.”

The first shafts of sunlight lightened the room.

“I don’t understand your relationship with the other villages. And I don’t know whether you can ask for payments or favors if something happens to your homes. I came back to repay the kindness you showed a stranger, but I have no personal stakes in this battle. Worst case, I lose my place in the troops and leave this area with a caravan. I will give my best to accomplish whatever goal you pick, but for now I’ll wake the others and start their training.”

I stood up and left the small hut.

The rest was for them to decide.