Breakfast was cold pumpkin pie.
The pie, which should have been perfect, had cooled and hardened, its texture becoming dry and crumbly.
Crishet, suffering from a sudden bout of depression over it, managed to eat it while being comforted by Grace and Gaara.
Golka and Garen weren’t there, and the village lacked its usual boisterousness.
—They had managed to repel the bandits.
Merely repelled. They hadn’t slain the enemy leader or annihilated their forces.
Thus, it was easy to predict they would launch a second night raid, and the village was on high alert.
Crishet had been stopped by the two from her daily river bath, tearfully giving it up. After they had helped wipe her down with water from a bucket, she had come to the plaza, pail in hand, to fetch water for daily use.
Usually, she would bring it from the river after her bath, but if she couldn’t go to the river, the nearest well was there.
Men were gathered in the plaza.
It seemed they were discussing the village’s defense.
The merchant and his four guards were mixed in with them, but the apprentice boy was nowhere to be seen.
The merchant, spotting Crishet amidst the serious discussion, approached her with a smile, asking if she was alright.
“…Good morning. Are you departing today?”
“Haha, that’s a bad joke. We can’t very well saunter out onto the highway with bandits nearby. …Is your house towards the forest?”
She didn’t answer.
Even Crishet, who was usually dull to malice, knew for a fact that this man was the very instigator who had set the bandits on them this time.
For Crishet, whose pumpkin soup had been ruined, he was an opponent she wanted to torture before killing, but the presence of onlookers was a problem.
Even if she were to lure him somewhere naturally, his companions were likely in the forest.
She had felt gazes from the bushes several times, so the probability of interference was high, and causing a commotion would be troublesome.
Although killing him would be easy, dealing with multiple people would be somewhat time-consuming. Moreover, committing murder so openly would affect Crishet’s reputation afterward.
Crishet reluctantly gave up and opened her mouth.
“I made soup and pie with the pumpkin I received, but thanks to all this, Crishet missed out on eating them.”
“Despite the bandits coming, you’re quite a composed young lady.”
The merchant laughed cheerfully, took a pouch from his breast pocket, and handed it to Crishet.
“That’s a shame… Take this instead.”
It seemed to contain a few of yesterday’s candies.
Her words had been spoken half in expectation that if she said something like that, he might give her something.
Her scheme seemed to have succeeded, and Crishet rejoiced inwardly at having somewhat offset her loss.
“Is this alright?”
Grace’s teaching was that when receiving something from someone, one should at least feign reluctance once.
Assuming she would receive it anyway, she feigned reluctance as taught, and the merchant smiled and nodded.
“Ah, yes, of course.”
She weighed the lost pumpkin and the received candies on a mental scale; the pumpkin, however, was slightly heavier.
That soup and pie had been masterpieces.
The crime of ruining them was grave—though these candies were quite good too.
She reconsidered, thinking she would try to make his death as painless as possible, and glanced around.
Golka and Garen were with Zarl and the others, participating in the discussion at the center of the men, so she couldn’t talk to them now.
“…However, is this all the menfolk we have? I hear it will take time for those out salt mining to return… Will we have to manage on our own tonight?”
“Will you fight too, Merchant-san?”
“I can only manage self-defense… but those four guards over there are reliable. You can rest assured, they’re skilled.”
The four guards were also central to the discussion.
Aside from the former soldiers, those remaining were merely hunters and craftsmen.
The mercenaries, who knew much about fighting, were apparently being treated as reliable figures, and it was then that the various pieces finally fell into place for her.
“I don’t see your attendant, but perhaps… um.”
“Ah… he got flustered and ran off last night. I hope he managed to survive.”
That apprentice was the contact. He was probably explaining the village’s layout and structure to his comrades.
The guards were meddling in the village’s defense, guiding their movements.
From Crishet’s perspective, the men seemed to be handling things skillfully, and the villagers appeared to have been completely taken in.
The villagers seemed to have accepted the four skilled individuals who had appeared so conveniently.
They likely wanted to plunder everything in the village and settle matters before the men from the salt mine returned.
It was reasonable to think so, and Crishet vaguely recognized that they would likely launch a full-scale night raid tonight.
If so, there was a possibility that even if she made pumpkin soup again today, it would be ruined.
—And Crishet was really in the mood for pumpkin.
Extreme displeasure and dissatisfaction swirled within her.
“Ah, my apologies. Are you in the middle of an errand? Here, let me draw it for you.”
Watching the man take the pail from her and turn the well’s pulley, Crishet wondered what to do.
Since there was a possibility of an attack during the day, she couldn’t use the precious pumpkin.
Crishet reluctantly decided to save the pumpkin, placing it carefully on a shelf as if it were a treasure. Then, as usual, she made her familiar soup of salt-cured meat and potatoes.
Then, while eating bread and soup, she listened to Golka and Garen, who had returned.
Seventeen people killed. Two women abducted.
In contrast, the number of bandits killed was about three.
Although the village had about three hundred people, half the men capable of fighting were away at the salt mine. Thus, their own fighting strength, even including spirited women and children, amounted to sixty at most.
During last night’s raid, at least about twenty bandits were reportedly confirmed.
According to eyewitnesses, they hadn’t taken much and had fled in a panic when their comrades were killed.
Zarl thought it was likely a reconnaissance and had said there were probably about forty of them.
The merchant’s mercenaries had argued it would be disastrous to be divided and defeated piecemeal. Zarl had nodded in agreement, and the others had concurred.
As a result, they had apparently settled on a plan: the women and children would gather in the warehouse in the center of the settlement, and the men would form a defensive perimeter around it.
The skill of hunters who use bows daily is high.
Those with a hunter background were so valued that they would be immediately welcomed as archers if they joined the army; stories of them becoming archery instructors in less than a month were relatively common. With sufficient mental preparedness, the hunters’ bows could indeed become a force capable of countering the bandits.
In terms of a defensive tactic utilizing them, it was indeed quite sound.
However, Crishet thought, that was likely what the bandits were aiming for.
They would gather the women—who were to be sold—into the warehouse for easy collection. That way, none would be missed.
The four men and the merchant would, at the right moment, transform into bandits and throw the villagers into chaos.
Between a disorderly group of amateurs and organized bandits, victory would undoubtedly go to the latter.
Having finished listening and somewhat satisfied with her meal, Crishet sipped some lukewarm water and took a breath.
Then, she looked at Golka and opened her mouth.
“Tousama.”
“What is it, Crishet?”
“Crishet thinks that Merchant-san and his guards cannot be trusted.”
The air froze at Crishet’s words.
Garen and Golka seemed to ponder for a moment, while Gaara and Grace looked at Crishet in surprise.
“Crishet-chan, did something happen to you, perhaps…?”
“No. It’s just…”
Crishet spoke about the pumpkin incident.
She hadn’t paid much mind to it at the time, but now it seemed suspicious.
Perhaps they had killed the merchant who usually visited, then disguised themselves as him to infiltrate the village. That was the gist of what Crishet explained.
Even if Crishet, a child, openly stated this at that meeting, her opinion would not be heeded.
Crishet didn’t think she was particularly liked by the menfolk, and there was also the risk of causing confusion.
As a result of these thoughts, she had decided to tell only the two who seemed likely to listen to her.
When Crishet finished speaking, Golka asked with a serious gaze.
“Crishet. Are you certain that you truly saw the same thing?”
“Yes. Unless there just happened to be an identical pumpkin by chance. But it’s strange for such a coincidence to overlap with the coincidence of bad people arriving.”
“…I see.”
Garen and Golka looked at each other.
Events had been unfolding far too smoothly.
Garen had found this suspicious and had already voiced his concerns to Golka and a few other trusted individuals.
That was precisely why Crishet’s words carried weight, and the two of them felt their concerns deepen.
“We also suspected things were a little too convenient. Thank you, Crishet.”
“…You’re welcome. What will you do?”
“We’ll inform those we trust and keep them under surveillance. Regardless, gathering all of you in one place isn’t a bad plan. …Don’t worry. We’ll protect you, no matter what. Rest assured.”
“Yes, Ojiisama.”
Crishet nodded and looked at the pumpkin displayed on the shelf.
When she imagined its taste, the pumpkin seemed to sparkle and shine brightly.
She wanted this to end quickly so she could eat the soup and pie she had missed out on yesterday.
That was about all that was on Crishet’s mind.
“Yesterday, Crishet missed out on the pumpkin soup. The pie got cold too… When this is all over, can I make them again?”
“Ah, of course you can. Well, Golka, this means we really can’t afford to die now.”
“Truly. …Gara, can I count on you to look after Crishet and Grace?”
“Of course, leave it to me.”
She said, patting Crishet.
“Can Oba-san get an invitation then too?”
“Yes, Crishet wants to hear Oba-san’s opinion too. May I borrow the oven again?”
“Of course. …Grace, what are you crying for?”
“S-sorry… I just…”
Grace wiped her eyes and hugged Crishet.
Soft and warm. Grace’s touch always felt pleasant.
“…When this is over… let’s all eat together properly.”
“Yes, Kaa-sama.”
Then, Gorka embraced Crishet and Grace from above them.
Mgyu, Crishet, being squashed, let out a pained groan, and Gorka laughed.
“Don’t worry. We’ll definitely protect you.”
And he said so forcefully.
The inside of the warehouse where they had gathered wasn’t as boring as she had thought.
Present were women and children.
Crishet, who was very popular with the women and children, was far from bored; in fact, she was rather busy.
“Here you go, please share properly.”
Crishet cut up the fruit that was in the warehouse and distributed it to the children.
There was a lot of food in the warehouse.
Meats were stored in a different location, but produce like crops were kept here, and fruits that would last a while were also preserved here.
As soon as she entered, Crishet wondered if there was some way she could eat this fruit.
If she asked plainly, they would probably let her eat.
However, Crishet’s particular sense of propriety prevented her from doing so; she couldn’t bring herself to suggest it.
While she was wondering how she might go about eating it, the children started fussing about being cooped up—and Crishet, having an epiphany, used that as a pretext to suggest eating the fruit.
The women seemed to agree, and it was decided to give the children the fruit from the warehouse, as consuming it wouldn’t be a major issue since it would spoil otherwise.
The surrounding fruits offered a plentiful variety, ripe for the picking.
Crishet got hungry quickly, but her stomach wasn’t that large.
Worried that eating a bit of everything would quickly fill her up, Crishet pondered, and as a result of another epiphany, she resorted to taking the initiative to cut and distribute the fruit herself.
“Now, now, no fighting over it. Take turns. I won’t give any fruit to naughty children who don’t follow the rules, you know.”
Thinking it was a perfectly natural course of action, Crishet quickly began cutting and distributing the fruit.
Her plan was to secretly eat some of the pieces she cut, but there was one unexpected snag.
A flock of children, like hungry baby birds.
Her peeling couldn’t keep up with the amount they consumed.
“Nee-chan, me too! I’ve only had one!”
“Kidda, you already ate two! Crishet-onee-san, it’s my turn next!”
“Uh, um… please wait a moment.”
To the children, who had no preconceptions about Crishet, she was a beautiful older sister they admired, and naturally, they wanted to receive fruit from Crishet more than from anyone else.
Despite diligently peeling, her plan went awry, and Crishet couldn’t get any fruit into her mouth for a while.
Crishet’s stomach, which had anticipated getting some fruit, was protesting its hunger.
“Fufu, you’re so popular, Crishet-chan. Here, say ‘aah’.”
“Ah… ehehe.”
Seeing this, the surrounding women, chuckling wryly, fed Crishet pieces of cut fruit.
The fact that she was surprisingly a glutton was well known thanks to Gara and Grace.
What Crishet considered a perfect pretext was practically transparent to them, and they giggled as they fed Crishet tidbits.
Unaware of this, Crishet, her own supply now satisfied, became cheerful and thus transformed into a peeling machine.
Seeing Crishet acting as usual, the women, who had looked gloomy, also started smiling and began to liven up with various conversations.
Crishet was at the center of the topics, and without realizing it, she was at the center of the women.
“Crishet-chan, don’t you have anyone you like? How about it?”
She was often asked such questions, and Crishet would answer each one.
Maintaining goodwill was highly beneficial for Crishet.
If she sensed they expected an answer, she felt compelled to give one.
“Like…”
She tilted her head, pondering a little.
What “liking” someone meant was a truly perplexing proposition for Crishet.
This was because, at her core, Crishet only had an economic sense centered on profit and loss.
People who bring more profit than loss are liked.
People who willingly endure some hardship for the benefit of others earn goodwill, and conversely, people who only receive benefits and don’t endure hardship are disliked.
That was Crishet’s understanding of like and dislike. For Crishet, who thought in this way, such questions were too broad, making the main point difficult to grasp.
“Um, I like all of you Oba-san-tachi very much.”
“Ah, that’s not what I mean… A man, a man.”
“A man… Ah, Crishet likes Tou-sama and Ojii-sama very much too.”
The woman who asked held her head in exasperation, and the surrounding women burst into loud laughter.
Grace, looking a little embarrassed, hugged Crishet.
“Honestly! Please don’t tease her. It’s still too early for Crishet for things like that…”
“You say that, but weren’t you clinging to Gorka when you were Crishet’s age?”
“T-teasing me is not allowed either!”
Watching the laughing women, Crishet tilted her head, wondering if her answer had been satisfactory, and returned to her peeling work.
While stuffing a piece of cut fruit into Crishet’s mouth, Gara-san laughed merrily.
“Really, I wonder what kind of man Crishet-chan’s husband will be. If some fellow tries to monopolize Crishet-chan, I feel like I’d punch him.”
Laughter erupted again, and Crishet, unconcerned, chewed the apple she was given.
The tartness and sweetness spread in her mouth, a truly blissful time for Crishet.
Crishet spent her time like that until the bandits came—the night raid occurred a while after sunset.
A faint, disappearing moon hung in the night sky, and bonfires were lit here and there in the village.
It was anticipated that the bandits would use torches to set fire to houses, but if bows were to be used, visibility was essential; otherwise, it would be pointless.
No matter how skilled an archer, there weren’t many who could take down a target moving around in the dark.
Zarl was commanding from the center.
Gorka and Garen had each taken up positions on the roofs as leaders of the bow squads.
The bell rang out, signaling the attack. Gorka, from the roof, looked towards the warehouse where Crishet and the others were, closed his eyes for a moment, and clenched his fist.
Then he looked beside him.
“Salva, you ready?”
“Of course.”
On the same roof was his trusted best friend Salva, and behind the two of them, one more person.
“Gado! How about you?”
“Who do you think you’re asking, Gorka? You think I’d screw up?”
“No. I’ve known your skill for a long time. I’m counting on you to watch our rear.”
“Yeah.”
Gado, a violent man with a bad drinking habit but skilled, took his position.
“If this goes well, I’ll treat you to drinks next time.”
“Hah. That’s a rare invitation from you. Depending on how the job goes, sounds like you might even let me grope Grace’s chest.”
“Don’t be an idiot, seriously. When you say it, it doesn’t even sound like a joke.”
He continued with a wry smile.
“I don’t think there’ll be many, but if any come around your way, give a shout.”
“Yeah. Worry about yourself more than me. The bell’s already ringing.”
“I know.”
He replied and focused ahead.
Compared to Garen’s side, they had fewer archers, but they were all skilled.
The men below with swords were more numerous on this side, so the balance of forces was good.
There were no problems, Gorka thought as he nocked an arrow.
As expected, the bandits numbered over forty. He also sent instructions to his comrades on other roofs.
By taking up his bow himself, he had already taken down about ten bandits.
Those stationed here were all first-rate hunters.
For them, who regularly dealt with swift-running beasts, as long as they could somehow overcome their aversion to aiming at people—to killing—shooting a human wasn’t that difficult.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to directly experience the sensation of flesh being pierced, and driven by the desire to protect their village and families, they could suppress that aversion.
Considering there were those who had to face the bandits with swords, not loosing an arrow simply because they were scared was unacceptable.
Those risking their lives below were their acquaintances and friends whom they knew well.
Precisely because it was such a village society, even an amateur group could act with some degree of coordination.
He kept shouting, his mouth dry and sticky from tension.
While exposed to the strong stress of shooting people instead of beasts, Gorka nevertheless wisely commanded the entire group.
It was Salva who spoke up.
“…Gorka, something’s still off.”
The mercenary man and the merchants [among the attackers] had formed two groups, one of two and one of three. The group of three, which included the merchants, was assigned to a sector of this very area, southeast of the warehouse.
But even though other sectors were starting to sustain heavy damage, they [Gorka’s group] alone hadn’t engaged in any significant combat.
Even if swords clashed, the bandits would be the ones to flee.
“They’re definitely shady. …Let’s do it.”
The current situation was advantageous, but if those men betrayed them, it would be overturned in an instant.
While half-agreeing with Salva’s words, Golka still hesitated.
Only if they were bandits could Golka and the others loose their arrows.
However, if that wasn’t the case—
His hesitation was momentary.
He recalled Crishet’s words from when they parted and steeled his resolve.
“…Understood. Salva, you take the mercenary on the left.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll aim for the one disguised as a merchant. If they’re bandits, he’s probably their leader.”
Salva laughed, saying, “Roger,” and Golka simply said, “Don’t screw it up.”
“Yeah, this is easier than hunting deer—guh, ugh!?”
“…!?”
Golka whirled around at the muffled sound.
A sword protruded from the chest of Salva, who had been to his left rear.
Before he could even wonder what was happening, something cold pierced Golka’s chest—deep within his muscles.
“Ga-Gado… wh-why…?”
“Oh, you can still talk, hehe…”
Gado, who had thrust a dagger into Golka as if ramming his whole body into him, spoke with a leering voice.
“Truth is, I got an offer. I was sick of this stingy village life… so, well, it was a timely offer.”
“Ga-do…”
“Don’t worry, I don’t need you to treat me to drinks, but I’ll be taking real good care of your Grace. A woman that enticing is rare even in the city… And that creepy brat, she’s a looker you don’t see often. She’ll surely sell for a high price.”
“Gh, ah—!?”
As Golka let out an inarticulate cry and tried to swing his fist in pure hatred, Gado twisted the dagger as if slaughtering livestock, finishing him off.
Then, with a stone he was holding, he sent a signal to the merchant—the bandit leader.
“…Strange.”
A short while later, what Garen witnessed was chaos in the southeast, the area Golka was defending.
Had Golka failed? However, that was difficult to imagine.
Garen knew Golka’s skill well.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have thought of marrying his beloved daughter to him.
He was the man to whom Garen had entrusted his daughter, believing him capable.
Despite Golka being there, something unusual was happening over there.
Or perhaps, a different situation had arisen that even Golka couldn’t handle.
It was what one might call the intuition of someone who had spent time on the battlefield.
Garen instantly twisted his body, turning to face the presence behind him.
And he slammed his trained fist into the solar plexus of the traitor who had readied his sword.
Garen, who had crossed the threshold of life and death many times and had once risen to the rank of centurion.
Even in old age, his body had not forgotten the tension of the battlefield.
The man crumpled with a sound like a crushed frog, and Garen bit his lip, realizing, “So that’s how it is.”
—In that case, they’re undoubtedly guilty.
Garen, who had been unable to determine if the mercenaries were friend or foe due to the small number of enemies, decided with cold logic.
There was no time to listen to explanations. He plunged his dagger into the back of the crouching man.
He was a fellow villager, someone Garen had shared drinks with several times.
However, Garen was a man who had long endured hellish battlefields.
Unleashing the ruthlessness he had acquired, he twisted the dagger, turning the man into a complete corpse, and then grabbed his bow again.
He nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring; there was no hesitation.
Simultaneously with loosing an arrow into the mercenary’s back, he leaped from the roof and drew the sword at his hip.
His aged body creaked from the impact, but he ignored it.
The mercenary fell, writhing in agony—his target was the other one, confused by the sight.
Locking onto the man, he narrowed his eyes and quickly closed the distance before his opponent could recover from his confusion.
Swinging down in a diagonal slash was a brutal battlefield sword.
It sundered bone from the shoulder of one of the bandits, easily turning him into a silent corpse.
Then, he accurately thrust his sword into the heart of the man who had fallen, pierced by an arrow and writhing, delivering the finishing blow.
Garen’s face was a mixture of fiery rage and icy ruthlessness.
The men on the surrounding rooftops looked at Garen, wondering what was happening.
“The merchants are in league with the bandits!! There are traitors among the villagers too! Golka’s group is probably in chaos because of it! You men, hold this position. I’m heading over there! Alan, Dick, you come with me!”
The two who were called descended and followed Garen.
He didn’t think there were many traitors.
Nevertheless, it was better to be accompanied only by those he could trust rather than fighting while harboring anxiety.
Although he was concerned about their numbers, this was the best course of action.
Nodding at the two men with whom he had spoken beforehand, Garen broke into a run.
However, the group surging from the collapsed southeastern side had already flooded to the front of the warehouse before Garen could reach it.
From the start, the swordsmanship they knew was little more than a pastime.
It might be different for those with military experience, but even with training, most of them were just ordinary villagers.
Once their formation collapsed and control was lost, they devolved into a disorderly mob.
“…Golka has…”
“Yes, Golka-san…”
Zarl, who had been commanding from the center, was shocked by the words that Golka had been killed. He racked his brain, the only part of his aged body that hadn’t declined, wondering how to regroup.
—There was no choice but to further shrink the defensive front.
To maintain the morale of the villagers, who knew nothing of war and were not accustomed to killing, unity was necessary.
He was about to raise his voice to gather the men, when—
“So, old man, you should just give up and rest with the others.”
However, what escaped his lips was a sound like leaking air.
One of the men who had fled—the man who had shed his merchant disguise—had a malicious smile on his face.
For a moment, the surrounding men couldn’t understand what had happened.
The man they thought was an ally had just plunged a knife into their leader’s side.
Zarl crumpled from his knees.
And the surrounding men were also cut down and pierced by the blades of the mercenaries and traitors, meeting their end.
The men who had finally escaped the chaos screamed at the sight, realizing they had nowhere to run.
The men, now without any order, were killed one by one, and the area was instantly stained with blood.
“Alright, that’s about it. The right flank is still active, don’t let your guard down.”
“Hehe, Boss, is it time for some fun…?”
“They say the mining men won’t be back until sunset tomorrow at the earliest. Once things settle down a bit, tonight will be fun… Hey, open it up.”
The merchant—the bandit leader—told the man who brought the hammer.
Although goods were piled up on the inside, at this point, it was only a matter of time.
It was originally just a simple warehouse.
The door was sturdily built, but it was, after all, just a warehouse door.
Each time the hammer swung, it punched a hole in the door, denting it—and each time, the screams of women and children echoed.
With the final swing, the door completely collapsed, and several women rushed out.
The women who tried to flee out of terror were all caught and, as if to make an example of them, were run through with swords or had their skulls crushed by hammers, dying.
—There were only screams.
“Behave yourselves, understand? If you’re good and quiet, we won’t kill you. But if you resist—”
“Hi-gyaaaah…!?”
The bandit leader cut off the fingers of a captured woman with his dagger.
Those inside the warehouse covered their ears and closed their eyes.
“The more you resist, the more I’ll torture you before I kill you.”
His cheeks pulled up, the man’s face bore a beastly grin.
“Come out slowly. Don’t try anything funny.”
A terrified child reached their limit, tried to run, and was killed.
They were utterly ruthless.
Regardless of whether they were women or children, the men mercilessly killed anyone who disobeyed orders.
There were no options.
Huddling together, those who were inside came out and proceeded to the center of the plaza, in front of the well.
And among them, the bandit leader spotted a single girl and called out to her, laughing.
“Oh, there you are. Little lady, come over here.”
Amidst the tragedy, the silver-haired girl was expressionless.
Surveying her surroundings as if observing them, she slowly turned her eyes to the man.