Danger

"We have to start planning a strategy immediately!" Torleif had been quick to take control of the situation and gathered a group of men around him on the height where he had earlier held his speech. His time as a soldier in the previous war meant he had experience that made him a natural choice for a leader for them all.

Matthias was still in a bit of a daze after the slaughter that had taken place in the market square, but he was paying close attention to every single word spoken by the rest of the group. Most of the others were older than he was, but Torleif had been careful to include both Matthias and Berwald after they had both shown their worth and will to fight in the battle of the square.

"We probably have a bit of time before the king will find out what have happened here today." The butcher was cleaning blood off one of his knives on a corner of his apron as he spoke. "I think we killed all of the soldiers that came here, so it should take a long time before anyone outside of the village will notice that something is wrong. Even if one of them escaped, it will take him several days to get back to anybody in order to give them a full report".

Torleif nodded thoughtfully in agreement. "But we should be careful anyways. I think we should all stay as close together as we can from now on. Everybody that lives on the smaller farms outside of the village should take up rooms in the tavern tonight, just in case something is to happen." Torleif spoke firmly to show that nothing could convince him to change his mind. "The king is no ordinary man. He has his way of finding out when something happens in his kingdom, and for all we know the soldiers that came here could have belonged to a larger group and just split out to search different villages and then meet up later. We should linger here no longer than we have to."

"If the soldiers that came here was a part of a bigger group, then we have to assume that there are other villages receiving the same treatment as us." Matthias muttered darkly.

"Yes" Torleif replied thoughtfully. "There are probably many other smaller villages like ours that the king is more or less willing to sacrifice to keep his army well supplied. This kingdom is built up by a great number of smaller villages, especially here on the outskirts. All of the cities and larger towns are in relative close proximity to the capitol. And that is the only part of his kingdom the king is willing to risk almost anything in order to protect, even if that means sacrificing a few people in the edges of his land."

"Then it should be our priority to get to the other villages and warn them about the soldiers." Matthias reasoned. "If we really want to defeat the king then we will need every man we can get and the other villages are the only places where we can recruit enough people actually make up a real army."

"You are absolutely right" The butcher said. "But I still think planning can wait for tomorrow. This has been an exhausting day and there are some things that should be taken care of today. Like SIgurd… He deserves a proper funeral."

The butcher pointed towards the body of the old man still on the ground. One of the other men swallowed heavily."We have to get rid of the other bodies as well. They can't just be left out in the open like this. Not only will they start to smell, but if someone is to come here and notice a pile of dead bodies in the streets, they will surely realize that something is wrong and we don't need the attention."

Torleif nodded yet again in agreement. "We can get a cart and dump them somewhere in the forest outside of the village and burn them there. But before we do, we should salvage as much of their armor and weapons as we can. I don't think too many of us have proper equipment for a real battle against trained fighters."

"You can't be serious" one of the other men said in horror and made grimace of disgust. "You want us to take things from the dead? There must surely be something else we can do."

"That is our best option" Matthias was quick to speak up. "Torleif is right. Most of us in the village are farmers. We cannot meet the king's army with hunting bows, knives or scythes and our clothes will not stop an incoming arrow or a blow from any kind of weapon. Unarmed we are no threat to the king, just a mere nuisance he probably wishes to get rid of."

The man still looked disgusted by the thought of having to go through the belongings of a dead man, but he didn't say another word of protest, realizing the others were right.

"There might not be enough weapons for all of us" the butcher said as he inspected his knife to make sure there was no trace of blood left on the blade. "There were only 40 soldiers and if we want to arm more people from other towns, then we will need much more than what they have on them."

They all remained silent for a while in thought until Berwald carefully cleared his throat with a nervous cough. "We have weapons in the forgery" he muttered and everybody stared at the smith's apprentice. "The king put in an order for weapons a while ago in preparation for the war he thinks is coming. If the soldiers had made it to our shop they would have taken with them the case we have prepared for them."

"Well, that would help a great deal" Torleif broke out in a wide smile, eager to get a proper rebellion started. "We have better get to work immediately. There is much that needs to be done before the sun sets. The tavern is the largest building we have, we should make that our base and we will gather all the weapons there. Now let us clear this square."

The other men were about to head in different directions to start clearing the dead bodies out of the way and instruct the rest of the villagers on what had to be done. Torleif went in the direction of Sigurd and pulled of his cloak. He knelt down and draped the heavy cloth over the old man to shield him from the elements for the time being.

Matthias followed after and tapped him on the shoulder. "Torleif…" Matthias spoke nervously. "Do you think I can take care of making a grave for Sigurd? After my mother died, he became the closest thing I have to a family; I wish to do this last thing for him."

Torleif looked up at the young man with sorrow in his eyes and he nodded slowly in understanding. "Of course you can." He said. Torleif got up and put a heavy arm on the younger male's shoulder. "Just know that his death wasn't your fault, no matter what that soldier told you."

It took Matthias hours to dig the grave all alone. He was offered help from several of the villagers, but every time he insisted that he wanted to be the one to do all of the work. The afternoon sun kept beating down on him as he worked and the dry dirt his digging kicked up, drifted in a cloud around him and clung to his clothes and hair.

He had chosen a patch of open land just outside the village for Sigurd's final resting ground. He didn't want to bury the man anywhere near where the soldiers were being burned. From his place he could see the other villagers lead a wagon by the main road and towards the forest and soon after he could smell the foul stench of the smoke from burning bodies being brought in his direction by the wind. The smoke along with the dry dirt was enough to make his eyes water and his throat soon became dry and sore just from breathing.

Berwald was the first person to approach him when the grave was getting close to being deep enough. By that time the fire had run its course and the smell of smoke had finally started to fade in favor of the fresh smell of autumn air. He didn't say a single word and waited patiently by the side of the grave as Matthias continued to throw up dirt without casting him a single glance in acknowledgement.

When Matthias finally tossed aside the shovel, he offered a hand to help the other get out of the hole. "The rest of the villagers are just about done with all the other preparations in the town square. We all want to say our goodbyes to Sigurd."

Matthias nodded and accepted the extended hand and climbed out of the grave and lay down on the ground with a sigh of exhaustion and stared up at the rapidly darkening sky above him as the day was coming to an end. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to dig another grave for a while after my mother passes" he murmured quietly. "And now I fear that this might just be the first of many more to come."

"There is no stopping that now" Berwald replied back in a calm but serious tone. "At least we have chosen to fight for our lives and not wait around for death to come to us."

"That is true" Matthias said as he stood up and dusted the worst of the dirt of his clothes. From the village they both heard the sounds of several footsteps coming their way.

The funeral procession was being lead by Torleif who lead a horse pulling a simple wooden wagon behind it. Judging by the number of people that followed, Matthias could only assume they had gathered every single villager, even from all the farms on the outskirts. A sorrowful hymn was being carried on the wind as some of the people sung out their grief for the fallen.

The two young men stepped back when the procession got closer in order to make room for the wagon. On the wooden boards rested the carefully wrapped body of Sigurd, resting on a bed of colorful autumn flowers. The hymned came to an end and silence was yet again wrapping around them, making every single sound anyone made seem several times louder than it truly was.

Four men began the task of picking up the body and gently lowering it into the grave. Their mouths were tightly clenched and their brows furrowed in determination, none of them wanted to let their grief be visible at all. A younger man in the crowd was biting his lips so hard it had started to bleed and a few of the women were trying to hide their sobbing behind a sleeve of their clothing.

The placing of the body in the grave was all done without a single word being spoken. When the four men that had done the work stepped back in the crowd, Torleif took up a place beside the grave and in front of the crowd. He stood for a moment in silence and let his gaze go over the people. He had been chosen as their leader and that meant he had to guide their people, not only through battle, but through the sad moments that would also follow.

"We all knew Sigurd" he started carefully. "He was the man we could always count on to give good advice and a helping hand. Sigurd has always fought for what was right and today he proved that beyond any doubt. He stood up for us all when nobody else had the courage to do so. That cost him his life." He took a moment of silence and let his gaze roam over the gathered villagers again. He then knelt down and picked up a fistful of dirt from the pile beside the grave. He stood back up and held the fist of dirt up in the air for them all to see. "Sigurd was a hero" he croaked, the emotions finally getting to him and breaking his voice. "That is how I will always remember him." Then tossed the dirt down in the grave and stepped back.

Matthias followed in Torleif's example and stepped up to the grave where he picked up a fistful of dirt that he held over the grave. "Sigurd was like a father to me" he stated firmly. "He never turned me away when I needed someone to talk to. I will always be thankful to him for that. Then he opened his hand and let the dirt drizzle down and add another thin layer atop the white fabric wrapped around the body of the old man.

The next one to step up was the tavern owner and to most people's surprise the burly man had tears streaming freely down his cheeks, but still with a brave grin on his face as he picked up some dirt. "This man knew what people needed to move upwards in life." He began. "Some men are just in need good advice. In my case, what I needed and what Sigurd provided was a sturdy boot to my rear end and a sound scolding." A few of the people managed to let out a laugh that was quickly choked by a sob and it lightened the atmosphere around them considerably.

"I used to be nothing but trouble back in the day" the man continued. "But today, thanks to him I have a trade and a business that I can be proud of. I think we should celebrate his life and not only mourn his death. Tonight we will feast in the tavern in his memory and the drinks are on me!" To the sorrowful cheers of the crowd he tossed the dirt in the grave and Torleif stepped up to give the man a bear hug. As he stepped away he received several more slaps on the back from the villagers.

Then the rest of them took a turn to add more dirt to the grave. Some of them that had known Sigurd more said a few words of memory and then they left back to the village, slowly but surely thinning out the crowd. Those who stayed behind were the men that had been more or less chosen as leaders for the rebellion.

When all of the others were on their way back Matthias was about to make a grab for the shoved still stuck in the remaining pile of dirt by the grave so that he could cover up the grave again, but the smith was quicker and snatched it away before his eyes. He shook his head calmly. "I will take care of this, you have done your part" he said. "But if you could help Berwald bring the weapons and the few pieces of armor we keep in the shop to the base at the tavern instead, I would greatly appreciate it. We didn't have time to do that earlier today and we should get that done before this promised feast will take off."

"If I know our beloved tavern owner correctly then the others might have already managed to empty at least one barrel of beer already and there are more to come." Torleif cut in cheerfully. "We'll divide the equipment come tomorrow. Just place them in the back room for now and then we'll see you two at the feast."

Matthias glanced over at the smith's apprentice and Berwald nodded for him to follow. As soon as they turned their backs they could hear the steady sound of dirt being shoveled into the grave.

The villagers had done a great job to hide all the evidence of what had happened in the market square earlier that day. The bodies had all been removed, and someone had taken a rough broom over the area to hide the blood that had been shed under a layer of sand and dust. But there were still some smashed up pieces from the broken stands and some crushed fruit lying on the ground as a small reminder.

On normal days there would always be smoke rising from the smithy and they would always hear the constant hammering of metals as the smith and his apprentice worked throughout the day. But now it was quiet, and the flames had died hours ago.

Berwald led the way with sure steps and opened the door to the small to let Matthias enter first. Inside it was dark; the small windows on the sides provided little light now that the sun was getting close to set.

There was a large desk by one of the walls where the smith would barter with his customers. The objects on display were mostly common items that a farmer or a builder would need. There were scythes to use in the field, horseshoes, hammers and buckets of nails. There were a few smaller blades for hunting, bows and a load of arrows but nothing that really seemed suitable for a war.

Berwald seemed to notice how Matthias' gaze kept roaming around the room, so he coughed once to get his attention. "The king's order of weapons is in the back. We should get them first and then we can pick up the bows, arrows and knives in here on the way back."

Matthias nodded, but Berwald didn't really take notice, for he had already turned his back and fished out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the back room.

"You would have thought that the king had enough weapons by now" Matthias muttered darkly as he followed the other male and caught sight of a case of crude swords. "He has been planning a war for two years and still has the smiths from the smaller villages produce more."

Berwald hummed in response. "We don't really question our orders. We can't really say no to any sort of income the way the economy is, and especially not when it is an order from the king."

Matthias walked over to the case and picked up one of the swords to inspect it further, but he quickly let it drop back in the crate again and it made a soft clang against the others. He still remembered all too well the feeling of a blade in his hands as he had driven it through the commander. "Is this it?" he asked lightly, hoping that the other male had not noticed his discomfort.

"There are a few more" Berwald answered as he went over to a shelf and picked up another sword, much finer forged than the others, the metal shining brightly in what little light made its way in the window. "Here" he muttered and held out the blade towards Matthias. "This is a bit better than the others, do you want it?"

Matthias immediately shook his head and Berwald lifted an eyebrow at him in question. "I don't really want to use a sword. I'll find something else."

Berwald nodded again in understanding and placed the blade with the rest of the others. "I might have something else" he muttered thoughtfully and went over to a cabinet he unlocked with another key.

"Why do you keep whatever it is locked away in an already locked room" Matthias asked. His curiosity got the best of him and he tried looking above the apprentice's shoulder without much luck.

"It was a special order from some officer back in the capitol I think" Berwald replied and moments later he pulled out a large double bladed axe from the cabinet and held it out towards Matthias who was unable to keep his jaw from dropping in amazement as his eyes caught the weapon. With shaking hands he accepted it.

The weight was much greater than that of a sword, but switching it from hand to hand, Matthias knew it was well balanced. The wooden handle was perfectly smooth under his fingers, not the slightest hint of a splinter was to be felt. The metal of the blade itself was dark and smooth wondered if he could split a hair on the sharp edge. In the metal closest to the wood there was a message engraved in old runes. "You can't seriously believe I can have this?" Matthias gasped as he ran a finger along the writing.

Berwald shrugged. "You took down the commander of the soldiers. If you asked me I thing that earned you the first pick of the weapons we have available." He rummaged in a drawer and picked up a shoulders strap made in soft leather. "Here… so you can carry that thing on you back we travel. Now help me with the rest of the weapons."

Matthias couldn't hold back the grin from spreading on his face as he admired the axe one more time. He fastened the axe in the shoulder strap and let it rest on his back and then picked up the box of swords from the floor. "I'll be back in a moment to pick up one more load."

Berwald let out a barely audible sigh at Matthias' sudden change in behavior as he had started to gather up a few pieces of armor to gather in a second crate.

When the two of them had finally managed to carry and stack all of the weapons in the tavern backroom they could hear the steadily rising sounds from the feast and judging by the cheerful sound of the voices it was clear that the tavern owner had been generous with his supply of alcohol and people were in high spirits already.

When the two of them opened the door to the main part of the tavern, they were met with a rush of noise. The volume they had heard before increased in a tenfold. What was usually the dining room was packed to the rim with people, and there was barely room to move around at all.

The tavern owner noticed them in a matter of moments he had rushed over to them, red faced both from heat in the room and from the alcohol in his system and he handed them both a large mug each of dark brown ale before he disappeared in the crowd again.

"We drink for our freedom" one man suddenly roared out above the crowd in a thick slur as he climbed his way up on a table, spilling ale on everybody around in the process, not that anybody seemed to mind anyway. "We also drink in memory of our fallen friend Sigurd." The rest of the people lifted their glasses and cheered in agreement. "And I will also suggest a toast for our fearless leader, Torleif!" Another cheer and over by the barrel of ale Torleif lifted a newly filled mug in the air and to the encouraging roar of the others he emptied the glass and opened the tap on the barrel to fill his glass yet again.

"And then another toast for his henchman, Matthias, the slayer of the commander!" one of them screamed and drunken laughter followed. Mathias was pushed up on a table by several people and found that everyone was staring at him expectantly. "Drink!" one man yelled. "Drink!" the rest followed. Matthias tipped his head back and emptied the mug in one go. The ale burning slightly at his dry throat and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks.

"Bring more ale for the man!" someone yelled and before Matthias could say or do anything, he could feel another mug being pushed into his hand.

All his worries were soon enough drowned in the pleasant haze of alcohol. Hours passed and then someone, he was not sure who, hauled him upstairs and dumped him on a bed in one of the rooms when he had become so drunk he was unable to stand upright on his own. It only took a few moments before sleep took him when his head hit the pillow.

Being drunk had blurred his mind as long as he had been awake. Sleep was not that kind to Matthias. The soft bed underneath him was soon morphed into something else. He found himself cold, wet and surrounded by darkness. He was on the ground and could feel roots and dirt underneath his fingers. He got up and took a look around in an attempt to figure out where he was, but it was too dark to make out anything specific at first.

It took him several moments of squinting out in the darkness he could make out the shapes of trees, surrounding him in every direction, so large that it blocked every bit of the sky above him. His eyes got used to the dark and realized he was standing on a patch of freshly turned dirt, a grave most likely. Just in front of him there was a shadow of a man, slowly gaining stronger contours. Matthias felt his breath catch in his throat as he realized it was the commander.

The man was muttering something, but Matthias couldn't catch the words at first, but the man kept on repeating the same line over and over again increasing the volume and stepping closer and closer. "This is your fault"

Matthias stumbled back in horror, for just then the commander started bleeding. Blood ran from his nose at first, then from his mouth every time he opened it to repeat himself one more time. He held out his hands and pointed accusingly at the terrified young man.

Matthias followed the accusing finger and stared down at his own two hands. They were clutching on to a sword and were covered in dark red blood that dripped down on the grave below him. He dropped it as if it was burning hot and it clattered to the ground. The shape of the commander gurgled in blood chocked laughter and then faded away before his eyes.

"Danger"

Matthias spun around at the faint whisper, trying to figure out where the sound came from. "Who's there?" he asked out the thin air, but his voice sounded faint and hollow in the forest.

"Danger"

This time the whispered echoed several times before it died out and it seemed to come from every direction possible. This time Matthias could see a shadow hidden among a cluster of branches, but as soon as he stepped closer to find out who it was, the shadow took off with a rustle of leaves and Matthias had no choice but to follow.

"Stop!" He desperately yelled at the person, but whoever it was kept on running and Matthias chased for dear life, ignoring the branches grasping and clawing at him and tearing up his clothing and rasping up his arms. He ran until his foot caught on a root and he tumbled to the ground and crashed into the trunk of a tree.

Confused and with a massive headache he looked up to see the shadow standing with its back towards him just a few meters away. When the silhouette turned he found a pair of dark blue eyes staring directly at him, but at the same time they were staring right through him.

"It's you?" Matthias whispered in surprise.

"Danger" The person whispered yet again. "You're all in danger, they are coming."