"I wonder what this Wyrmus Lind told them," Martin pondered aloud as he walked back to the rest of the band with Bartold and Miriam.
"Of course, he told them some fantasy about how he and his partner killed Aodhan to mobilize these idiots against us," he replied angrily.
"Are you sure he would do something like that? They must know that they can't win against us, even if Aodhan were dead, I mean we have weapons," Martin wondered, astonished, hitting his studded club to confirm.
"To answer your question, we're talking about the same guy who first claimed to be Aodhan and I think he's hoping that we'll start picking each other's eyes out so he has the chance to get away before Aodhan himself shows up. The only thing that surprises me is the fact that he was somehow able to convince Albert and Ivar of this crap. I must have overestimated them. You heard how the two of them tried to play you off against me, but they can forget about that. We're too clever for tricks like that, right guys?" he explained in a grim tone, whereupon Martin and Miriam began to nod vigorously.
"Yes, absolutely. They must think we're really stupid if they think we'd fall for something like that. I guess you're going to go to the mountain now and get Aodhan so he can clean up the mess, right? Don't worry, we'll hold the fort here for the time being," Miriam agreed happily.
“No, not yet I don't think we need to bother him with that,” he replied carefully.
“But you told them, you…” Miriam began, before he interrupted her.
“Oh, I know what I said, that was… well, to put some pressure on them. I think that the two of them are just bluffing. When they see that we are not letting their fairy tales drive us apart and that we are serious, they will back down,” he said confidently, suppressing a nervous swallow and mentally adding, at least I hope so.
“Besides, we don't need Aodhan here yet, as I said, the way he is right now, I would be reluctant to face him and tell him that we can't deal with a few megalomaniac farmers. If push comes to shove, we still have you, Miriam, you are pretty good with fire,” Bartold continued in a flattering tone.
“Um… thanks for the Flowers, but I'm not a dragon," she answered hesitantly.
"And they're not knights or anything like that. I think you're even better suited here than Aodhan. I mean, in his current mood, he might just burn down the whole city in one breath, then we can forget about salvaging anything useful from the charred ruins. You know, dragons aren't so good with subtlety or precision. In this situation, a few controlled flame arrows and maybe even fireballs are much more useful than an inferno," Bartold praised Miriam, whose grin only grew wider with each word.
"Oh yes, you're right, this will be fun, I still have to think of some trick for it. What do you think, should I do a few tricks with a torch, burn down a tree or just burn down the gate or the wall," she thought aloud excitedly to herself.
"The thing about the trees sounds good, but I think they're too far away, so it won't look quite as impressive from their wall," Martin pointed out.
"It's best to just be ready, I'll let you know when it's time for your move, by then I'll think of something, let's go and tell the rest that we are going to test how seriously our neighbors are taking their refusal to pay tribute," he said confidently as they approached the edge of the forest where they were already awaited by some curious bandits.
"What exactly do you mean by continuing our bluff?" the gatekeeper asked suspiciously after Ivar and Albert had climbed down from the wall and told the assembled townspeople about their worries.
"By that I mean that they will probably attack our gate to test us, to put us under some pressure and that we will defend ourselves against it," he explained after some hesitation.
"Please tell me that I'm drunk and just imagining all of this," the gatekeeper groaned and began to massage his temples.
"Drunk probably, imagining, unfortunately not," Ivar answered him curtly.
"How exactly are we supposed to defend ourselves if they attack the gate?" someone else from the assembled crowd now demanded to know.
In his book on sieges, he had read something about hot tar and battalions of archers but feared that they would have to improvise here.
"Well, those of us with bows can definitely shoot down at them from the wall if they are within range. Otherwise, we could, well, just throw a few things down if they get too close. Rocks, pots, plates, you know what I mean. And we could also pour something hot down, you know, hot water or something like that,” he explained his tactics, knowing that he probably didn’t really sound like a gifted military strategist.
“Well, we can take a pot of water from a well and bring it to the boil, does that count?” asked a woman from the crowd.
“Yes, perfect, make sure you get the water nice and hot, then we’ll carry it up the wall,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, knowing they wouldn’t get any closer to hot tar.
“And what if they manage to break through the gate,” Mikal asked the one question Albert was most afraid of.
“Well then we will…” he began uncertainly but was interrupted by Ivar.
“When that happens, try to stand firm and point the sharp end of your former broomstick in their direction,” Ivar replied with a shrug, sharing what he believed to be the greatest military wisdom of all time with those gathered, which, Albert had to admit, was probably still better than anything he could have come up with.
“If they come in here, we'll simply sweep them out again,” Boris shouted enthusiastically, waving his monster of a tankard in the air.
“Exactly, the only thing they'll get from us is whatever we throw at their heads, think of it as a kind of spring cleaning to get rid of all the unnecessary stuff that's accumulated at your place and then we'll meet back here,” Albert shouted in a magically enhanced voice that he hoped was brimming with confidence.
It was hard to say how encouraging he had actually been, but it did at least have the desiredeffect.
The crowd seemed to disperse as people scattered to search the town for anything that was a halfway decent projectile.
After the crowd had dispersed, he climbed back up the wall after Ivar told him that he wanted to check on the water.
Once up there, he was soon joined by a few people with bows, which they probably normally use either for hunting or for apple shooting at festivals.
After that, a few people came up with slings and some small sacks that seemed to be filled with stones. After a while, he also noticed the familiar face of Theodora, their village healer, next to him.
"Is this the moment you tell us that you are also secretly a poisoner and alchemist with a penchant for firebombs?" he asked, only half joking.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He had an innate distrust of healers. The fact that, in his opinion, Theodora was as caring as a bone saw and hadn't lived in Schlucht for very long didn't help either.
"Of course, I know in theory how to mix poisons and things like that, I'm a healer, after all? Unfortunately, I don't have the necessary ingredients lying around. I might even have become an alchemist, but in the end I had only enough money for the medical study," she said, sounding a little whiny.
That would have been too good to be true, he thought with a sigh. Before he could even wonder about this thought, however, Theodora continued.
"I know nobody here really wants this to turn into a real fight, but I have a vague feeling that I'm going to be pretty busy over the next few weeks, which is a shame. I always like my job best when I have nothing to do," she said jokingly, although in Albert's eyes she seemed rather forced.
He thought for a moment about how to answer, but since nothing inspiring came to mind, all he could do was give his honest opinion.
"Yes, I'm afraid you'll soon have your hands full here when this is over," he answered seriously, wondering not for the first time today whether they wouldn't have been better off with a living Aodhan.
"Thank you," Theodora replied curtly, which pulled Albert out of his thoughts.
"Thank you for what?" he asked, confused.
"If you think I'll have my hands full, that means you're assuming I'll survive," she explained, shrugging her shoulders.
"Well, you're welcome," Albert said, confused, whereupon the two fell silent.
"Well, just in case there are any injuries because they throw stones or something like that, I'll set up a small hospital in the stable," she explained and went on her way.
"Yes, good idea," he agreed, wondering again what kind of conversations he was today.
After a while, Ivar joined him again after helping to carry a steaming cauldron up the wall.
"And how is our cooking pot?" he asked as Ivar approached him.
"It's the kind of cooking pot that you'd better let simmer for another hour or so before you let anyone touch it. Well, unless you don't like your guests. ," Ivar explained.
"Good thing our guests are worse than any family visit, how did you get it to boil so quickly anyway?" he asked curiously.
"Borris got it to boil faster with some extrinsic magic," Ivar explained.
That's right, he can increase the temperature of flames a bit, he usually only does that when cooking, he remembered his friend's talent.
Bar magic is the best magic, the words of one of his old professors from Auros suddenly flashed through his mind, causing him to smile.
"What do you think they're planning?" he finally asked Ivar after looking to the edge of the Forest where he saw the silhouettes of some of the bandits. .
"In a perfect world, their retreat, in our bad version, probably how to open the gate," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
He had asked himself the same question many times now.
He had considered whether they could try an improvised battering ram or simply try to use their axes to break a breach in the palisade, which was only made of wood after all.
Fortunately, both would take a long time and they would also have to get within reach of it. They had not exaggerated earlier.
The city gates and their walls had been built to ward off monster attacks which did happen with some regularity atleast before Aodhan arrived and devoured everything that could be a threat to his lands.
However, the day had already had enough surprises for all of them, so it was difficult for him to feel safe even on the wall.
Especially when he knew that he would soon find out whatever the men of the hopefully dead dragon had planned to get into his city.
"Soooo, what's the plan?" asked one of the bandits after Bartold had informed them of Schlucht's refusal to pay the tribute.
"The plan is that we remind these farmers that they are no soldiers, tear down their gate and show them who rules these lands," he explained euphorically to the assembled crowd, which was welcomed by large parts of the crowd, who roared with approval, brandishing their weapons and banging on their shields, but not by everyone.
"Uh, we're not soldiers either and how exactly do you think we should break down the gate, it looks pretty robust and I mean these city gates in the country are built specifically like that to ward off monsters," one of the hesitant ones interjected into the silence that ensued after the initial applause had died down.
"Why don't we just call Aodhan now so he can finish them off," asked another.
By Grota, I am gradually realizing how soft this gang has become because of Aodhan. They don't even dare to attack a harmless little town without a dragon. Even without this whole debacle, it would have been clear to me by now that it was time to move on, he thought, annoyed.
"First of all, we may not be soldiers, but at least we have real weapons, like axes, which are excellent for chopping up wood, like their palisade. Secondly, their oversized garden fence only keeps monsters away because they usually only sniff the palisade and maybe scratch it a few times before looking for easier prey. And it's not like this palisade has really been properly tested in recent years, because Aodhan hasn't left any monsters in the area for that kind of thing. And thirdly, if we wake up the already angry Aodhan, he'll probably accidentally burn down the whole village. You can see what's left to plunder then. That would probably make our Lord even more angry, which he then, knowing him, takes out on us. That would make the one-time Gerhard and Wilfred drank his dwarf mead look harmless in comparison. So no, we will not call him because we do not need him to deal with a bunch of villagers, that's clear!" Bartold finished his speech, using the same trick he used at the gate to make his voice sound deeper and more threatening as the speech went on.
Whether it was because of his speech or the memory of the former members of their gang being eaten alive, he could not say for sure, nor did he care, but whatever it was in the end, the result was that even the skeptics among them had fallen silent.
Although some of them still looked a little worried and uncertain, as long as their doubts did not undermine the morale of the rest of the gang, who were now mostly looking towards Schlucht with grim determination, anticipation and greed, this minority was of no consequence to him.
“So first we march forward with axes and shields and try to make a breach. Those with two-handed weapons team up with someone with a shield so that they can protect them a little. They'll probably throw all kinds of stuff at us, so watch your heads. And if that doesn't work, we give Miriam something to drink, retreat a bit and watch her make firewood out of their fence. Well then, folks, let's get through it, by dawn, the matter shall be settled. Forward!", Bartold gave his last order, drawing his sword at the end and pointing it towards Schlucht, which was acknowledged with approving roars by the assembled people as they set about carrying out their orders.
By tomorrow I want to have got this matter behind me and be on my way to the Djinn Kingdom and by Aloysius' cursed walking stick, the next idiot who asks me whether we shouldn't call Aodhan, I'll ram my sword into the throat , he thought grimly as he watched his mob move in at least a somewhat orderly fashion, his sword hand cramping at the hilt in excitement as he put it back in his scabbard.
He involuntarily rubbed his hand over the hilt of his lucky dagger on his belt again as he thought about the upcoming battle.
He had not given any precise instructions or drawn up a precise battle plan. Mostly because he was not a great tactician, but also because he knew that his men were not soldiers.
Without dragons, the dragon's men were just ordinary bandits who would probably just trip over their own feet if he had explained any complex battle formations to them, assuming he knew any of them, of course.
No, he had been part of raids on cities like this before.
Ideally, you would have a man on the other side who would open the gate for you, or you would attack by surprise, fast and hard until a breach was made.
Unfortunately, because of Aodhan, they had never found it necessary to infiltrate the surrounding cities, so all they could do was throw themselves against the palisade until an opening appeared.
A very wasteful and inelegant tactic, Bartold admitted to himself, but as long as he was not in the front line, it worked for him.
In fact, he really hoped that they would succeed in making the breach. In his opinion, a few losses on her side were still better than having to rely on Miriam here.
If he remembered her story correctly, this lunatic had learned some fire magic from a few mercenaries passing through in her home village and later trained it herself. When she then joined Aodhan, she had come up with the idea of imitating a dragon's fire burst in his honor.
She had been successful in that, with enough fuel in her mouth, she had managed to spit out an admittedly impressive jet of fire that was extremely dangerous, amazingly wide-ranging and therefore extremely imprecise, so that he was afraid that she would end up making his made-up argument against calling Aodhan, namely the possible collateral damage, true.
Of course, her fire was a joke compared to a real dragon, but still. In such raids he liked to have as little fire as possible involved, at least before the looting began.
