Refugees Fleeing North

Southwest of Laine, a long line of refugees, dragging their families along, slowly made their way towards the southern border of Burgundy County on the muddy north-south trade road.

Scott Feld stepped out of the line, stood on a rock by the roadside, and gazed at the front of the procession, where the outline of a village was faintly visible at the end of the road.

“Emma, there’s a village not far ahead. Just hold on a little longer, and we can have some broth and wheat porridge there,” Scott ran back to the line, took his wife from his son’s hands, and encouraged her, touching her forehead.

“Papa~ I’m hungry. When can we stop and eat something?” His emaciated daughter tugged at Scott’s clothes, crying.

“Camille, my little darling, we’ll be there soon. There’s rich mutton soup and big plates of pea mash waiting for you,” Scott pulled out a hand and wiped the tears from Camille’s muddy face.

“Ron, give me the bundle. Carry your sister. Let’s hurry and get to the front. If we arrive late, there might be nothing left to eat.” Scott turned his head and reached for the large bundle on his son Ron’s shoulder, his feigned relaxed expression immediately vanishing.

Scott was a farmer from the outskirts of Vilno, south of Provence.

Three months ago, Duke Witold led several thousand troops to besiege Vilno, and Scott’s family fled with their lord to Aosta.

Soon, the bad news of Vilno’s fall arrived; thousands of city residents and farmers were either massacred or became slaves of the Lombards.

Subsequently, news came of the enemy’s advance north towards Aosta, and Scott’s family, before they could even catch their breath, had to continue fleeing north…

Three months later, Scott’s family had fled to the northern border of Provence, with news of fallen cities still constantly coming from the south.

After a difficult decision, Scott decided to take his entire family across the vast northern wilderness to flee to Burgundy County.

Burgundy County was not at war with Lombardy, so perhaps it would be safer.

Thus, Scott’s family and a group of refugees with the same idea began to cross the vast northern wilderness, with refugees joining in twos and threes along the way, the northward fleeing group gradually growing.

By the time they reached the southern border of Burgundy County, the northward fleeing refugee group had grown to over a hundred people, most of whom, like Scott’s family, had run out of food, their clothes were torn, and their feet were raw.

Three days ago, Scott’s wife started having a fever; the last bit of oats in their food bag was gone, and their money pouch had long been empty.

However, even if they had money now, it would be useless; no one on the run would sell life-saving food to others, and not a single grain of wheat could be bought for any amount of money.

Edible wild herbs and vegetables along the way had long been picked clean by those who passed earlier, and the incessant wolf howls around them at night left them without the courage to leave the group and forage alone.

His six-year-old daughter and seventeen-year-old son were already emaciated from hunger…

Ahead was a small village, where perhaps the fleeing refugees could get a thin bowl of gruel mixed with bran…

The group quickened their pace, and Scott, supporting his wife who could no longer walk, urged his son, who was close behind, to push through the bustling crowd.

Just as they were about to reach the front of the line, it suddenly stopped.

Scott put down the bundle on his back, leaned his wife against it, instructed Ron to take care of his mother and sister, then pushed through the crowd to the very front.

The sight before him stunned him.

Three or four riders in leather armor with short spears sat on horseback; in front of them stood a burly Master with a long beard, clad in iron armor, with a long sword hanging at his waist, also on horseback.

Behind them stood a neat row of fierce-looking Soldiers holding long spears, and behind the spear Soldiers were several archers with bows drawn and arrows nocked.

This group blocked the path of the refugee army.

“You wretched, homeless vagrants, if you dare take another step forward, I will cast you into eternal hell!” the bearded Master roared angrily at the crowd.

The crowd fell silent.

“Master, please, we have been walking for almost half a month. We finally made it out of the wilderness. Please let us pass…” Finally, a white-bearded old man bravely stepped forward and pleaded with the bearded Master in the common tongue.

The bearded Master understood the old man’s words, kicked his horse’s belly, and slowly walked towards the old man.

The old man retreated half a step, paused, then stepped forward again.

The bearded Master rode up to the old man, circled him once, then raised a scarred, ugly face and glanced at the crowd opposite.

Suddenly, his expression changed, he drew his long sword, and swung it fiercely at the old man.

Blood instantly spurted from the old man’s neck, spraying all over the bearded Master’s face…

A terrified gasp erupted from the crowd.

The bearded Master swung his bloody sword forward, and the Soldiers behind him charged into the crowd~

…………

“Ron, quickly, carry your sister and run south! Throw everything away, just run!” As the bearded Master rode towards the old man, Scott sensed the killing intent in his eyes.

He pushed through the crowd, returned to his family, hoisted Emma onto his back, called Ron, and hastily left the road, breaking away from the crowd to flee south.

Barely thirty steps from the group, a cry of terror erupted from the crowd, followed by screams, wails, and the crowd began to scatter and flee…

…………

At sunset, a dozen shivering refugees stood in the open space in front of Laine Manor.

They were survivors of the daytime massacre.

A dozen fully armed Soldiers stood behind them, and a bald man with a fat head and big ears was standing on a stone slab, loudly lecturing in the common tongue.

The bald man squeezed out a fierce expression and said sternly: “Listen carefully, you wretches! As long as you obediently work in the Manor, my Master will spare your wretched lives.

If anyone dares to escape, my Master’s long sword needs to drink blood and eat flesh!”

In the Manor’s great hall, Baron Bazel was tearing into a lamb leg.

He was in a good mood today; after killing a large number of the old and weak, he had acquired a dozen strong young slaves.

These slaves were robust, and he did not intend to send them to the Tinietz slave market, but rather to keep them to reclaim the wasteland near Laine Manor for him.

“Master, the slaves have all signed their deeds of sale. Congratulations on acquiring another batch of fine livestock,” the bald butler walked up to Baron Bazel, fawning.

“Hmm~ Coos, your idea is excellent. The strong slaves left after killing the old and weak can double the arable land of Laine Manor,” Baron Bazel poured himself another large cup of light beer.

“Master, I think these wretches should be starved for a few more days, so they will be more obedient,” the bald butler offered another sinister “good idea.”

“Hmm, you’re right. Do as you say. If anyone resists, drag them out and chop them down!” Baron Bazel was indifferent to the lives of the slaves.

“Oh, by the way, Master, I selected one of the women captured during the day for you. She has already been sent to your room,” the bald man added with a lecherous smile.

Listening to the woman’s cries coming from the bedroom, Bazel drank another cup of beer, patted his big belly, and laughed heartily…

…………

Seventy miles southeast of Laine, Unnamed Valley wooden house.

“Master, you really don’t need to go. I can finish it alone,” Cooper tried to dissuade Art, who wanted to plant winter wheat with him.

“Alright, I told you long ago not to keep reclaiming and expanding the land, but you insisted.

Now that such a large area has been cleared, are we just going to leave it empty?

Besides, didn’t you say that if the wheat seeds aren’t planted these days, there will be no harvest next year?” Art sat on a stone outside the wooden house, putting on a pair of worn sheepskin boots.

“Today, we will only choose the most fertile plot from the remaining land to sow; the others will be replanted later.

Tomorrow, you come with me to the northern wilderness to look around.

That fellow said before he died that his three accomplices took most of the gold ingots and fled in other directions. I plan to try my luck.” Art said, then hoisted a large sack of wheat seeds and walked out the door.

The old man grunted in agreement, quickly picked up his iron hoe, hastily closed the wooden door, and strode to catch up with the muddy-legged Master…

Forty miles north of the Unnamed Valley wooden house, a Giant Stone Pile standing in the vast wilderness has become increasingly lively recently.

Last winter, a hunter and a dying old man spent the night here; this autumn, four hooded riders and seven or eight light cavalry fought here; now, it is about to welcome its third group of guests.

Scott looked at the Giant Stone Pile, despair undisguised in his eyes.

They had been walking nervously through this endless wilderness for two days; besides occasionally seeing a group of wild antelopes in the distance, there was no sign of human habitation anywhere, and wolf howls could be heard from afar every night.

Actually, less than 5 miles west of the Giant Stone Pile was the trade road they had come on, but now they had become a group of lost lambs, circling near the north-south trade road for two days and still couldn’t find their way.

“Ron, come and help your mother. I’m going to check out that pile of stones.” Scott handed his gravely ill wife to his son, drew a broken iron piece with an edge from his waist for self-defense, lowered his body, and walked into the Giant Stone Pile.

After a while, Scott waved from the stone pile, signaling Ron to bring his mother and sister over.

“Ron, bear with it a little longer. Go pick up more dry branches and withered grass around.

Your mother can’t walk anymore, so we’ll rest here tonight.

There’s a pile of ashes here, which means someone has been here, so there might be a village nearby.

I’ll go look around and dig up some wild vegetables and herbs, and maybe even catch one or two wild rabbits.” Scott instructed his son, who was slumped on the side.

“Camille, will you take care of your mother for me?” He squatted down and touched Emma, his wife, who was leaning against the giant stone, then turned to his daughter and said.

“My dear, I feel much better. You go~” Emma strained to lift her emaciated hand, gently patting Scott…

…………

The next morning, before the sun had risen, Art and Old Cooper had already set off early.

Since Art acquired the unexpectedly captured warhorse, the green mule became Old Cooper’s mount.

Cooper wasn’t particularly fond of riding horses, but after dealing with the green mule every day, he could now manage to ride it at a quick pace.

Art wore leather armor, a long sword at his waist, a cow horn riding bow on the left of his saddle, and a sheepskin quiver on the right.

Old Cooper wore a long linen shirt, a tanned leather belt at his waist, and carried a short sword.

A hunting bow and light arrows hung from the green mule’s saddle.

“Master, so many days have passed, can we still find any trace of those people?” Cooper rode his mule behind Art, carefully avoiding the branches on either side of the dense forest path.

“I can’t say for sure, but we can go to that pile of Giant Stones north of the wilderness first, and search eastward from there.

If we don’t find any traces, we’ll head south to the Wolf’s Den Gorge to see if the wolf traps there might give us a surprise.” Art stood up in his stirrups and looked ahead through the dense forest.

In a little while, they would be out of the dense forest and into the wilderness.

Inside the Giant Stone Pile, Scott was turning a prairie rat skewered on a stick over the fire, and the rich scent of char filled the air around the bonfire.

“Papa, is it cooked?” Camille had already asked several times, swallowing her saliva.

“Here, Camille, you taste it first to see if it’s cooked.” Scott pinched off a strip of meat from the roasted rat, which was not much bigger than Camille’s fist, and placed it in Camille’s palm.

Yesterday, Scott circled the Giant Stones for a long time, finding no sign of human habitation.

Before dark, he only returned to the Giant Stone Pile with a large handful of wild vegetables.

As night fell, the occasional wolf howls from afar kept the family by the fire awake.

Early this morning, Ron, who had gone to find water, came running back excitedly, holding a prairie rat in his hand.

At noon, Scott’s family, having chewed on some wild vegetables with a roasted rat, gathered around Emma.

She had been ill for several days, and coupled with the lack of food, she could no longer move a single step forward.

Scott called his son aside.

“Ron, you are seventeen this year, already a man.

Now, I need you to take Camille and continue walking south until you encounter a village or a castle before stopping.

Remember to keep your sister alive.” Scott couldn’t abandon his wife, who had been with him for over a decade, but he even less wanted Ron and Camille to stay here and wait to die together.

“No, Papa, I’m not going.” Ron held back his tears, while Camille next to him was already a crying mess.

“Scott, my dear, take the children and go.

As long as the children can live… I… I will be at peace even if I die~” Emma forced her eyelids open, speaking to Scott in a weak voice…

Just as the family was in the midst of a heart-wrenching farewell, a rapid sound of hooves came from the south of the wilderness.

Scott quickly stopped the children’s crying, drew the iron piece from his waist, climbed onto a giant stone, and looked towards the direction of the hoofbeats from the south.

He saw two figures on horseback in the distance, galloping towards the Giant Stones~

“Ron, quick, take Camille and run to that low ground to the east! Keep low, run! Don’t worry about us~” Scott slid down the giant stone, handed the iron piece to Ron, then pulled out the water skin and flint from his tattered clothes, slapped them into Ron’s arms, and pushed Ron eastward.

But it was too late; the riders arrived at the Giant Stone Pile in a flash.

Art was the first to spot someone in the Giant Stone Pile, drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at the man holding a small iron knife.

Cooper also noticed someone and fumbled to pull out his hunting bow.

The man desperately shielded the woman and children behind him with his body, his right hand, tightly gripping the small knife, began to tremble uncontrollably.

After a stalemate for a moment, the man plopped to his knees.

“Master, please, spare my family! We have nothing left~” the man pleaded in a crying southern accent, his head repeatedly hitting the ground with thudding sounds.

Art glanced at the man on the ground and the woman and children behind him, then turned his horse around and said, “Cooper, let’s go!”

Cooper also lowered his hunting bow, stared blankly for a few moments at the man kneeling on the ground and the dying woman lying behind him, then pulled the reins and followed Art.

“Master~”

“I know what you want to say, but it’s impossible.

Can you save these few people, and save the countless refugees fleeing north on that road to the east?” Art interrupted the old man’s words.

The old man was speechless.

He turned to look at the man kneeling on the ground and the big boy behind him, thought for a moment, then caught up with Art again.

“Master, I mean they have two strong young men.

I can have them cultivate the wasteland for you and grow grain to feed you.

That way, you won’t have to work the land yourself, and you won’t have to work so hard hunting in the mountains~” the old man made his final effort.

Art paused, turned his horse around, looked at Cooper’s hopeful face, then glanced at the two men, one old and one young, behind him…

On the vast, boundless wilderness, a hunter in leather armor led a bay horse in front, followed by a green mule carrying a sick woman.

An old man led the green mule and a man, softly talking about something, sighing continuously.

A big boy carried a thin little girl on his back, the girl’s small hand clutching a small piece of smoked meat.

Under the afterglow of the setting sun, the group cast long shadows as they walked towards the south of the wilderness.