Looking around the small village, the Knight grimaced under his helmet, his arms and legs tensing as he straightened his back. On one side of him, Valkyrie looked around nervously, shying away from the crowd and pressing into his side, leaning back the slightest bit to stay a fraction of a step behind him. To the other side, Lucie glanced up and down the group of people who had come out to meet them, a look of anxiety on her face. A dozen-plus men and women had emerged from their houses when their car had stopped in the middle of the village – according to Lucie, the village hardly ever received visitors. Most of those present were older, at least the Knight's grandparents' age, but a group of younger children trickled in from a large structure just off the village center – a school, Lucie had called it when they had driven past it. More and more people gathered around them in a ring, wearing a mix of expressions between curiosity and fear.
A wizened old man stepped out of the crowd, propping himself up with a cane, and eyed them warily. "Why did you bring these outsiders?" he demanded, staring hard at Lucie, pointing his cane at her chest.
Lucie flinched, but she gritted her teeth and straightened her back. "I didn't have a choice," she began. "If no one else would listen to me, I had to find someone who would listen. Someone who would help us. Someone who would keep them from bringing us to our destruction."
Someone near the back of the crowd muttered, "As if one of them would help us…"
"You should not have brought them here," the old man told Lucie, his eyes narrowing. "No one should even know about us."
A murmur of voices ran through the group. Lucie hesitated, seeming unsure of herself, and glanced at the Knight.
Steeling himself, the Knight cleared his throat. "Lucie has told me some of your history," he interjected, taking a small step forward. Several near the front of the crowd flinched, and he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I assure you, I am only interested in peace. One of yours – a renegade, from what Lucie said – attacked me and one of my friends. I fought that renegade in Berlin, and I killed him. But there are others out there, are there not?"
The old man pursed his lips. "You cannot hold us responsible for the actions of these few."
The Knight gestured calmingly with his hand. "I do not," he assured him quickly. "No one should be judged or held responsible for another's actions. I did not come here with Lucie to seek vengeance, nor did I come here to place blame. My fear is not for myself. Rather, I fear that the actions of these few could prove disastrous for your village and your people. Lucie has shared her concerns, with which my partner and I fully agree. If the actions of these few were to become known in the wider world–"
"Then what?" interrupted a younger man, standing behind the leader. He folded his arms, gritting his teeth. "Would you villainize us? Turn us into your monsters to be feared and hunted?"
The Knight cocked his head in confusion. "Me?"
"That is what Teutonic Knights have done in the past," the old man informed him, his mouth set in a thin line. "Since learning our story from this traitor, have you wondered why we have chosen to live here in secret for so long, refusing to engage with the outside world? Why you have not heard true tales of our actions for the last three centuries? It is because the Teutonic Knights have routinely hunted down any of our people who ventured away from the rest of the pack. Because Teutonic Knights have searched for our village in order to eradicate us – that is why we have had to relocate so many times. Even when our people have done nothing wrong, they have vilified us and slaughtered us." The man's eyes narrowed, and he glared at the Knight warily. "What makes you any different?"
The Knight swallowed, looking back and forth around the group surrounding them. "I… had not known that history," he admitted. "The Teutonic Knight's purpose is to protect the helpless and stand up for the weak. To defend those who have been left on the outside, not to vilify them. I cannot speak for my ancestors, those who bore this sword in the past. All I can do is to give you my word: I will not fight against or harm those who have not harmed me or those under my protection. And I will protect those who are innocently attacked when they have done no wrong. Including you."
"And we should take your word for this?" another villager scoffed. "I know all about what Knights like you can do…"
Letting out a breath, the Knight sighed heavily. "I do not expect you to believe me fully," he answered. "If what you say is true, if my forebears have treated your forebears as monsters and hunted them down, then you do indeed have little reason to trust me." His shoulders slumped. "And if your forebears had done nothing to deserve it, then mine were the true monsters." The old man in front of him cocked his head to one side. The Knight chuckled humorlessly. "My grandfather really was a monster, albeit unwillingly. He was forced to serve Adolf Hitler – as, I understand, your own people were. He did not want to be the monster that Hitler turned him into. He hated the terrible deeds that he was forced to perform. But he did them. As a result, my father hid the sword and I was reluctant to accept it: I was afraid that people would see me as the monster that my grandfather became. But I did take the sword. I did promise to use it properly. In the end, I had to accept that people's views of me – monster, hero, or somewhere in between – do not define me. What mattered was what I did. You have that power, as well. That the rest of the world sees you as monsters does not mean that you are. You can choose to be the monsters that people think you are. Or you can choose to be better."
The old man's eyes widened, taken aback, and he gave the Knight a surprised look. "You do not speak as I had expected you to speak."
From the far side of the village came a jeering laugh. A large man with shaggy black hair and enormous, rippling muscles strode into the village square, giving the Knight a look of utter disdain. Behind him, six others stalked through the crowd, which parted before them as the villagers shied away from the newcomers. "This outsider may not speak as you expect, old man," the man told him, sneering at the Knight, "but that does not make his words any less nonsensical."
"Emil," breathed Lucie, tensing, her eyes narrowing. Her fists clenched at her sides.
The older man folded his arms. "You would do well to listen," he told Emil curtly.
"And you would do well to accept who you are," retorted Emil. Turning to face the rest of the assembly, he called, "Why shouldn't we embrace who we are? Why should we have to fear those who do not understand our power and might? We have been given this great gift; we should use it, as was always intended!" Turning on the Knight, his eyes flashed. "And that means eliminating anyone who would stand in our way." With a snarl, he leaped at the Knight, fur spreading across his body midair as his nose elongated and teeth grew sharp. The jaws parted, the teeth bared, even as his friends all transformed behind him.