—You're in luck, bums. Out of my sight.
The guard near the northern palisade, ignoring the chaos beginning to brew at the western gate, passed by Sam and Ronald without giving them a second thought.
It was a fatal mistake.
As soon as the guard turned his back, the alcoholic haze vanished from Ronald's face as if by magic. He drew his military dagger from beneath his tattered tunic. In a fluid, feline motion, he lunged forward, grabbing the man from behind and covering his mouth with a gloved hand while driving the blade through his throat. A single attempt to struggle, a muffled gurgle, and nothing else escaped his mouth.
—Sorry friend, nothing personal —Ronald managed to say as he laid the body down carefully to avoid making a sound.
—Come on, I have everything we need —whispered Sam, who had already regained his upright and alert posture.
Still using the shadows and the smoke from the chimneys beginning to light up in the nearby houses, they moved quickly past the spot where they had hidden the tinder and wood. They reached the rear of the guards' residence, a blind spot where the stables and the main structure met.
—Place it closer, in a pyramid shape against the main beam. Pour the oil —Sam instructed, watching the corners.
—On it, I'm doing it now —Ronald said, pulling a flint from his pocket. His hands, previously trembling from his feigned drunkenness, were now steady and precise. He struck the metal until a fat spark landed on the oil-soaked tinder—. Done, it's lit. Let's go!
The fire licked the dry wood and quickly found its way to the oiled beams of the garrison. Running low, they moved away from the crime scene toward a nearby building they had previously marked. There, in a damp cellar, they had hidden their chainmail, shields, and swords.
—Ready? —Sam asked, feeling the heat of the fire beginning to grow behind them.
—Ready.
…
—Sir, it's the signal. There's chaos up ahead. The gate is crowded and smoke is starting to rise from the village —said one of the mounted hunters.
—Perfect! —the lieutenant said—. Everyone, forward at a fast gallop. Hyah!
With the order given, the entire contingent of the Guard moved in unison, riding at a swift pace to capitalize on the enemy's confusion and enter the village without resistance.
Emerging from the hill that had been concealing them, as soon as they were in sight of the palisade, they began to charge at full speed.
—Hunters! Crossbows and shortbows. Covering fire!
At the lieutenant's command, the members of the guard equipped with projectile weapons began to harass the soldiers on the palisade and the scattered guards of the merchant caravans waiting in line to enter the river port.
…
—Enemy attack! Close the gates! Ring the bell! —shouted the enemy guard who had received the safe-conduct, before running toward the gateway with the intent of closing the heavy doors before the imminent assault—. Move that damn wagon, or I'll hang you myself for interfering with the village defense!
—And you beggars! Get out of the way too if you don't want to end up hanging in the stocks!
It wasn't until the cry of —Fire! The guards' hut is on fire! Fire! Bring water!— rang out that everyone looked toward the shout and realized the magnitude of the problem.
—Run!
—Every man for himself!
—Help!
—Mama!
…
Miguel, playing his part, turned his head, and seeing the cavalry charging, acted with perfect synchronicity to move the wagon, following the guard's orders to avoid suspicion.
—Cousin! —Andrés shouted to Miguel, gesturing for him to come in with his hand.
—I'm coming! —Miguel replied, leaving the wagon by the side of the road, clearing the path.
—Close the gates now! Men, with me! —shouted the gate warden.
Once all the commoners had fled in fear of the fire and the threat of the enemies outside, only Miguel, Andrés, and the defenders remained.
But just as the enemy guards were regrouping to push the gate back into position, the arrows fired by the lieutenant and his men arrived.
—Ah! I'm hit, I'm hit! Help!
—Medic! Medic!!
—Don't retreat, men! We must hold and close the gate; it's the only way out of this unfavorable situation. With me, bring the pavises! We can defend our position until the gate is closed. Just a few moments! Hold on!
—Alright, Andrés. Pass me the toy! —Miguel said, hiding in an alley on the left flank of the gate.
—Here, my lord. —Andrés handed him the arquebus his father had given him, along with the bandolier of the "Twelve Apostles." Meanwhile, he pulled out a crossbow for himself to join the fray.
—Come on! Fast! —Miguel thought to himself. The enemies were already beginning to pull the gate shut, and more enemies were arriving from other parts of the village and the barracks, which, though burning, were already being controlled with sand and water from nearby wells.
—Alright, blow on the match! Carefully. Aim… Fire! —he thought.
BOOM
The impact rang out flat and sharp, leaving the battlefield in total silence. The enemy guard who was maintaining the group's cohesion in such a situation arched from the impact and fell face down, a pool of blood already forming around him.
—Captain! —the enemy soldiers screamed.
—You! You damn spy! Get them! Vengeance!
In that moment, Andrés drew his crossbow and aimed at the first enemy, who instinctively covered himself by turning his body slightly to the right, with such bad luck for Andrés that the bolt impacted his back.
—Ah! Damn you!
Despite being wounded, the soldier stood up and pressed on against the pair at the entrance of the alley. Still dangerous, and with a murderous look bloodshot with rage, he advanced against the enemy spies.
Six enemy guards advanced toward Miguel and Andrés, who held their ground in the advantageous position of the alley to suppress the disadvantage of numbers.
Just as they were about to engage in hand-to-hand combat, two arrows came flying from the rooftops above them to meet the enemy. It was Ronald and Sam.
The first two arrows struck the lead enemy with enough force to pierce his low-quality chainmail, wounding him enough that he no longer represented a threat.
—Thanks! —Miguel managed to say, as he prepared for hand-to-hand combat.
…
—Cease fire! —the lieutenant shouted—. Inside, guards! No mercy, eliminate the enemy soldiers.
And like a tsunami, the 200 guards of the House of Cortés entered Green Village with all the momentum of their full-speed charge.
—For a moment, I thought they might close the gate or place enough obstacles to break the momentum of the charge and make us stumble over one another. But it seems the first military intelligence squad has done its job well —Fernandez thought—. Now we only need to eliminate the remnants.
The massacre that followed was surgical and one-sided. The few guards attempting to defend the gate stood no chance against the inertia of the charge; they were trampled by horses or skewered by spears before they could even raise their shields. On the palisade, Baron Heinrich's ill-equipped guards threw down their weapons upon seeing the display of force descending upon them. Those who did not were systematically cut down, the walkways cleared with terrifying efficiency.
...
Human rights are an obstacle to war. But there must be a limit, for otherwise, when the battle ends and you return home, you discover with horror that those monsters are living within your own walls.
— From Miguel's encrypted book.