"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded the village's spokesperson.

  "Just what I said. I've picked up a rather interesting runaway. If one of you can kill him, you get to go free."

  I didn't know what to hope for. If someone attacked me, I wouldn't have a problem acting in self defence, but I'd know forever why they attacked me. That it was out of desperation, not malice. These people were better than the bandits; they were taking a stand at the cost of their lives.

  "Pah. As if we care about our own skins. We were dead the moment we refused to hand our children over to the bastard count."

  "That's Lord Harvent to you peasants," replied the captain, "and yes. You speak the truth: I can see the resolve in your eyes. So, I invite you to ponder why I ordered my men to bring not just your children alive, but also your women."

  "You... You monster!" yelled the villager, and I was inclined to agree.

  "It's a tough job, but someone has to do it," sneered the captain, once again basking in his power. "Out of consideration for your resolve, I will tell you exactly what is going to happen. I am going to smash your laughable defences and burn down your village. My men will kill all of you apart from one. The one will engage in single combat with that kid over there. If you kill him, you and your family are free to go. If you lose, you and your family die, but as long as you fought well, I will at least promise that your family dies unspoilt. The others... will not be so lucky. Then, once we're done, the dead will be hung along the canton roads, as a reminder to others who might be inclined to rebel. Now, do I have any volunteers to test my potential new recruit, or shall I pick myself?"

  "Not going to ask if I agree?" I muttered under my breath.

  "No," answered the captain, despite me not intending for anyone to hear my mutter. "I can practically hear your gears turning from here, weighing up costs and benefits. Let's hope you reach the correct conclusion."

  "None of us will surrender to you," yelled the village spokesman. "Now come, if you must. We're ready."

  "Very well," said the captain. "I admire your resolve, if not anything else about you. Certainly not your intelligence. Now... which one?" He gazed along the line of defenders. "That one," he declared, pointing at a young man halfway down the row. How he'd picked, I had no idea. His choice gave no response, simply tightening his grip on his makeshift pike.

  A grip that even before tightening had left his knuckles white, the same as with every other defender in the line.

  "Charge," ordered the captain, and six horses started moving as one.

  It seemed odd to me that the villagers stood outside the palisade. Why not inside, with bows? Their pikes seemed far too unwieldy for hand-to-hand combat, but they did look like they'd be good against horses. Same as their spiky defences. A horse charging into one wouldn't have a good time, but anyone who dismounted could simply step between them.

  In the end, it probably made little difference. If these soldiers had combat Skills like Leo, they could flatten the defences, the palisade and the defenders in a single swing.

  The defenders must have some hope, though. Why send off their women and children? What was the point? Did they expect them to get away? They may not have expected [Expert Tracking] specifically, but they must have known their executors would have a tracking Skill of some sort, and I doubted everyone in the village had a stealth Skill. Heck, the younger kids wouldn't have unlocked their System, and wouldn't have Skills of any sort.

  What was I missing?

  The captain raised his halberd, obviously preparing to invoke an active combat Skill. Something to blow away the defences. The horses had picked up enough speed that it seemed unlikely they'd be able to stop before impaling themselves even if they wanted to, completely ignoring the sharpened wooden logs ahead of them.

  The row of defenders looked resolved. They were the faces of people who knew they were about to die, but not one of them seemed rattled by the captain's threats of what he would do to the village women. Angry, yes, but not afraid. They didn't expect him to be able to follow through on his threat.

  What would I do if I was a member of this village? What sort of Skills would villagers have? What trap would I lay?

  I'd want to use another flour explosion, but the villagers' gaunt appearances ruled that out. If they had flour, they'd have eaten it long ago.

  The soldiers seemed to think the anti-cavalry measures laughable, charging straight at them in their disdain, yet the villagers seemed to expect them to work. What sort of trap would force them to work?

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Ah, it was obvious when I thought about it.

  I let myself fall backward, kicking off the horse with all my strength, sending me tumbling away from the charging soldiers. And then, just like I'd prayed hours earlier, the ground opened up to swallow them.

  The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. The ground cracked beneath the horses, but whether there were Skills involved or if the horses were just that well trained, all six kicked off the disintegrating ground, leaping into the air. The captain yelled, "Stone Breaker," bringing down his halberd in a great swing that launched a visible shock wave, but his leaping horse caused it to go flying over the villagers and their defences. It smashed into the gate behind them, blasting the top half of it into splinters.

  The villagers braced their pikes against the ground, pointed up at the falling horses.

  The horses impacted, all six run through by a bloody mix of pikes and sharpened tree trunks, just as dozens of heads popped over the palisade. Old men. Women. Children, some so young that there was no way they'd unlocked. They rained down a volley of projectiles upon the attackers. Most had bows, even if many struggled to use them. Those that didn't threw rocks. How they'd done it, I didn't know, but they'd sent the tracker and half the soldiers chasing after a decoy. Perhaps they'd simply had a chunk of the village leave, loop through the forest and re-enter through the back.

  One of the soldiers screamed, a lucky arrow piercing his neck.

  There was a moment of chaos as soldiers disentangled themselves from dead and dying horses, which the line of defenders used to retreat, running back to the palisade. The gate wasn't open, and there would not be time to open it, yet they were retreating anyway. There must have been a reason. The trap was not yet completely sprung.

  I backed away, debating whether to run. At this point, even if the count's men won, it seemed likely they wouldn't want to spend time chasing after me. The only concern was that the tracker's splinter group still had their horses. The captain may well send a couple of them to chase me down. For now, I felt I was better off waiting.

  Besides, I wanted to see what the villagers had in store next. Even as things stood, I wanted to give them a resounding round of applause.

  The pit trap finished collapsing, revealing that while it was long and wide, it wasn't deep. It was, however, filled with dry yellow leaves mixed with a fine sprinkling of sawdust.

  I took a few more steps back just as the entire thing erupted into flame.

  Yes, they damn well had a plan. Sensible people did not trap homicidal maniacs in with themselves without a plan.

  With flames blocking my view, I struggled to see what happened next, but I had a glimpse of someone in plate-mail armour leaping over the wrecked remains of the town gate from the inside. My heart skipped a beat as the image overlapped with that of the knight who'd attacked Leo, but Reasoning pointed out the different colour of his cape.

  "Blade of Justice!" yelled a voice I'd never heard before, confirming it wasn't the same guy.

  More soldiers screamed, and through the flames I saw the silhouettes of several of them pushed backward, straight into the fire.

  "You!" yelled the captain. "Deserter! Traitor to your lord! So this is where you were hiding!"

  "Ah. Captain Tyler," answered the knight. "We meet again. And this time, you seem to lack your horses and half your squad. You will not escape me again."

  "Oh? You think you can not only fight me and defend this village, but win before the rest of my men return?"

  "I am sorry to say that the rest of your men will not be returning."

  What the captain's response to that was, I wasn't able to hear, because an arm picked that moment to shoot out of the burning pit, charred flesh clawing at the dirt at my feet. It strained, pulling up a head, raw and screaming, eyes blackened and blood seeping from every surface. A head that was clinging to life only through the reality-defying powers of Constitution.

  I wasn't like those villagers. I wasn't able to stake my life on a cause, even when I wanted to, like back in the bandit camp. With the unveiling of a knight on their side—and possibly a second, given the assured way the first had declared the other soldiers weren't coming back—I was confident enough to make my move. Not to run away, as much as I wanted to, but the take my dagger and stab the hand.

  It lost its grip, its owner falling back into the blazing pit. The head had just enough time to flash me a look of betrayal before it vanished under the flames.

  Why betrayal? Ah; it was hard to tell, given the lack of skin, but from the shape, that had probably been Corporal Leeroy.

  I thought about it for a few seconds, but decided that I had no reason to feel guilty. He was the same as the bandits; doing terrible things to other people to protect his family. Family was important, and to be honest, I didn't want to fault him for getting his hands dirty to protect them, but I felt that he'd kinda lost his right to complain if people did terrible things right back to him.

  The experience was kinda pathetic, though, given his level. I'd grown too used to flying solo. Sharing sucked.

  Also, wasn't he quite low ranked, as far as the group members went? Yet he was right up there with the toughest bandits. What the heck sort of level was Captain Tyler, then?

  There was obviously a violent fight going on beyond the fire, but I couldn't see much of it. Dried leaves and sawdust wasn't the most enduring of fuel sources, though, and it wasn't long before the flames died away. By the time they did, the fight on the other side was over. The knight stood victorious over Captain Tyler's corpse, although about half of the men who'd been defending the village were unmoving on the floor, too. It obviously hadn't been a one-sided victory.

  The knight caught my eye, and then he moved.

  Someone clad in a personal metal box had no business moving so fast, nor casually leaping over four or five metres of smouldering firepit as if they were stepping over a puddle. I instantly dropped my dagger, still dripping with blood, and held up my hands in surrender. "I'm not with them!" I desperately claimed.

  "I can tell that," answered the knight, eyeing my bloody dagger. "I will, however, demand an explanation for how you came to be wearing Sir Leonard's clothes."