Chapter 100 100: The Beautiful Bretonnian Winter

If we reach 25 comments, . You have five hours from the time this chapter is posted. If we reach the goal, the next chapter will be posted in eight hours.(Valid comments must include information about what you like or dislike about the story, what you would like to see about the story, or any questions you may have about the story, as the devil is in the details.) ----------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Ulriczeit-16,2489 IC "Do you have the saddlebags full of ammunition?" I asked my men. "Yes, my lord," they all replied, checking that they carried enough powder and bullets ready. "Potions from the Cult of Shallya and sterilized bandages?" I asked again. "Yes, my lord," they repeated while checking other saddlebags. "Oats for the horses and rations for the next four days in the rear pack." "Yes, sir," they confirmed once more. "Very well, then we begin this operation. No killing peasants—if they don't resist, take them prisoner. Two silver shillings for every peasant captured, one crown for a knight. The loot will be split half for me and half for you, but if this goes well, I'll gladly give up my share. And let it be clear: no dropping your trousers. I won't waste time on that. Anyone I catch doing such a thing, I'll hang from the first tree I find. Understood?" "Yes, my lord," they answered in unison. "Good, let's go. Descend carefully; there's a path the orcs used, but it's still steep. I don't want anyone falling because they weren't paying attention," I ordered as I began to ride down the trail carved by years of orc traffic. Five hundred riders descended calmly, without meeting resistance. According to the information I had, the front was stalled several kilometers to the east. Ever since the Imperial army had been defeated and forced to cede territory, the line had been fixed at Montfort, where Imperial and Bretonnian forces were now blocked by the snow, waiting for better weather to resume the campaigns. For obvious reasons, there were no settlements near the point where we descended—it would have been the first thing the orcs burned and looted, being so close to the entrance of the Dawi mines. Once at the bottom, we marched west in search of Bretonnian villages that would be easy prey; with their forces concentrated at the front, resistance would be scarce, and we could move at will. It didn't take long to find the first target of the day. As we moved away from the Grey Mountains, through the snow, the smoke of a village became visible to the naked eye, though it came from a single house. We galloped toward the place. The peasants, upon seeing us, stepped out of their homes only to quickly lock themselves inside after realizing we were men of the Empire. "You know the drill... no unnecessary deaths, but don't pull them out of their houses just yet," I ordered. We headed for the granary, full of grain sacks. "Bingo... we've got food to sustain the raid for several days," I said with a smile. "Use those carts and load the sacks. Let's see what's in that noble's house." I kicked the door open and stepped in with both pistols raised. A scream echoed inside. Before me, a young man in chainmail and sword in hand tried to protect his family. I looked around: only malnourished Bretonnian peasants. "I'm not going to waste ammunition on you. Drop the sword and you'll save me the trouble of killing you," I told him in Bretonnian, holstering my pistols. The young man, ignoring his mother's cries as she shielded two children, charged at me, attempting a thrust. I deflected the blade with my right gauntlet and delivered a heavy blow to his abdomen. The air burst from his lungs, and he collapsed backward onto the wooden floor. Without delay, I planted my boot on his throat and began to press down. The young man's eyes went wide, and with a muffled grunt he brought both hands to my boot, trying to push it away. His fingers clutched the leather tightly, shoving desperately, but he barely managed to shift me a centimeter. His face began to redden, then turned a purplish shade as the veins in his neck bulged. He struck my shin with a closed fist, tried to twist to the side to break free, but each time he did, I increased the pressure, forcing more weight onto his windpipe. "You should have listened to your mother," I muttered, watching him struggle, his heels drumming against the floor in an instinctive search for leverage. The mother, seeing her son kicking and gasping more faintly with each second, lunged at me, scratching my shoulder and slapping at my helmet. I grabbed her arm, twisted her aside, and was about to give her a hard punch... until I saw the terrified eyes of her two small children fixed on me. "Bah... I don't want the trauma of two children on my conscience," I said, lifting my boot and releasing the woman. The young man rolled to his side, coughing violently and clutching at his neck, struggling to breathe. I finally gave the order to capture all the peasants. Shouts filled the village as they were subdued, tied up, and loaded onto carts along with the sacks of wheat. A group of my men took the horses belonging to the knight who ruled the place and set off toward the mountains, escorting the prisoners and the food. The rest of us kept searching for villages among the vast farmland. We found two small hamlets similar to the first, each with no more than two hundred souls. We took them without firing a single pistol; as expected, defenses were minimal, and with winter upon them, it was rare to find sentries outside, exposed to the cold. Everything went smoothly until we reached what appeared to be a large settlement. If my knowledge of Bretonnian maps was correct—or the Imperial cartographers hadn't made a mistake—this village was Tharravil, located on the Bretonnian trade route, which explained its size. We advanced at a gallop, though with fewer forces: I had left men behind as guards for the transport of prisoners and supplies. From a distance, the hills revealed a settlement of between three and five thousand people. The presence of several well-built houses suggested merchants or even a noble in the area; these were not the mud and timber hovels where Bretonnian peasants usually lived. Wasting no time, and detecting only a few metallic presences that might pose a threat, I gave the order to advance. "Split up and block the main exits. Try not to kill anyone. Remember: 'Drop your weapon and you will live!'. If they keep resisting, fire," I instructed, making sure they knew the exact words to shout in Bretonnian. We divided into small groups. The first thing we came across were a few men-at-arms, spears raised, trying to form up to stop us. However, seeing that we were far too many, they stepped aside. Two groups of four riders dismounted and charged at them, knocking them down with punches to subdue them. The rest of us continued towards the village centre, where I spotted a group of knights who seemed surprised by our presence. I drew two pistols and fired immediately, while my men also opened fire. I holstered the weapons and unhooked two more from my armour. The knights, who had been chatting calmly moments before, fell to the ground under a rain of lead. My men dismounted to check if any were still alive, while others kept galloping to wipe out any remaining resistance. More shots rang out in the village. Peasants ran in all directions, only to find that every escape route was blocked. Many barricaded themselves inside their homes, hoping the storm would pass. The looting went smoothly: knights shot down, men-at-arms captured, most offering no resistance. Unlike the knights, who trusted the Lady to protect them, a man-at-arms knew exactly what it meant to see his lord fall under enemy fire. We quickly gathered all prisoners capable of fighting into the village centre under strict guard, while a small group of us began forcing our way into the merchants' houses. Many had furniture and makeshift barricades blocking the doors, but that only delayed the inevitable. No one could complain about the silver clinking inside their chests. Once the entrance was broken and the blockade removed, we stormed in. The inhabitants were subdued and tied up without hesitation. We searched every corner and took everything of value: silk, large quantities of linen, balls of wool, and several barrels of silver coins stored in the main merchant's home. We also found amphorae of spices well hidden, but not enough to escape my men's eyes. Outside, every house that looked wealthy was looted. We found even more silver coins, and even some gold ones the merchants kept hidden from their lords. In the knights' homes there was a bit more resistance. Their men-at-arms tried to stop us, but facing pistols with spears was not their best idea. Soon we had captured the noble families and taken everything: armour, swords, chests of Bretonnian coins, and stables full of warhorses—easily sold for a fortune in Imperial markets, or kept for breeding in my own stables. The looting lasted almost two hours without rest. We entered every important house, tying up its inhabitants with whatever was at hand. Some tried to hide in the attics, which cost us a bit of time, but none escaped. By the end of the day, with carts and captured horses, emptied granaries, and amassed riches, we sent everything towards the mountain pass, heavily escorted due to the large number of prisoners. I was left with barely three hundred men to continue the campaign. During the rest of the day, we plundered two smaller villages. They were not as valuable as Tharravil, but the total loot from the first day of raids was already more than satisfactory. We kept advancing until, in the distance, we spotted a small castle. Although well-defended, its garrison was clearly outnumbered. As I focused, I recognised the metallic design of the drawbridge mechanism and the iron gate—the same I had seen in Montfort. "Looks like we'll be sleeping in comfort tonight," I murmured with a grin. I closed my eyes for a moment and channelled my magic. The metal responded as if it were an extension of my own hands. The internal gears of the drawbridge began to turn with a high-pitched squeal, and the chain, which normally required the effort of several men, started to tighten on its own. The chains groaned and the bridge slammed down against the frozen ground. Next, I did the same with the iron gate. The internal bolts clicked open with a sharp sound, and the heavy leaves began to lift, as if an invisible giant were pushing them from within. "Look, ! They've left the gates open! Move!" I shouted, spurring my horse. We stormed in at full speed, over two hundred hooves pounding the ground in a deafening roar. A group of men-at-arms and knights tried to form up hastily in front of us. The first shots thundered, and their formation broke before they could stand their ground. My men, without slowing down, fired and tossed their empty pistols into the snow, drawing loaded ones to keep up the attack. The courtyard turned into a chaos of gunfire, shouting, and the pounding of warhorses' hooves. The defenders fell one after another, unable to understand how they had lost their main defence before even drawing their swords. We used those precious seconds to reload and charge into the castle's interior. In the corridors, confusion still reigned. Some tried to shut inner doors; others fled, dropping their weapons. We advanced quickly, unleashing such firepower that no attempt at resistance could hold. In just a few minutes, the fortress was under our control. The heavy gates were closed again—this time under our command—and silence replaced the clamour of battle. That night we would sleep behind secure walls, and tomorrow, the looting would continue. ----------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------