#a few days later an older gentlemen who lives across the street noted me feeding the crows when i got home from work and came up to me

[phoradendron]

.

[ethalarian]

Defending the Perimeter: Farmers and Sharp Sticks

Herding cats. That’s what this was. Shahin heaved a heavy sigh as he pored over the seemingly endless mound of reports that had piled up on his makeshift desk during his absence, detailing everything from progress on the defensive emplacements to contact reports on patrols (which boiled down to “we didn’t see anything”) to letters from the few farmers in the outlying reaches of Silverbrook they had not yet convinced to seek shelter in the safety of the town proper. Many of the younger farmers, particularly those with families, were easy enough to get through to. The Sunguard simply did not have enough soldiers to cover such a wide berth of land. 

A knock on the door perked his ears and pulled his attention away from the mountain of paper. Reflexively, he scowled at the thought of yet another complaint. There was not enough food, there were not enough weapons, there was not enough medicine, the list wore on and on and on without end. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and straightened his tabard and - still glowering at the door - made his way across tiny upstairs room he’d commandeered as his command post to see what the problem was now. He took a moment to pause, breathe deeply, and put on a less unpleasant face before he pulled the door open. On the other side was a tall, broad shouldered Blood Elf adorned in the same crimson and black regalia as Shahin. He was fair skinned and stern looking, facial features low and thick cut. It took Shahin a few moments longer than it should have to recognize him.

“Ah. Knight-Sergeant Heartwood.” At first, he was relieved to see another one of his own kind; soldiers he understood. They made sense. He could talk to them. Then, another thought struck him. “...if you’ve brought me more paperwork, I swear I’m going to throw you out a window.”

“Sir. I have no reports, sir, but there is an issue in the town square.”

Jolly as ever, thought Shahin as Heartwood grumbled in his usual monotone bass. With a sigh, he gestured for the walking statue of a man to take the lead and pulled the door closed behind him. Whatever was going on couldn’t be nearly as mind numbing as sitting behind that desk. Silver lining! Probably! Both men descended down the staircase and trod through the living space of the small house, doing their best not to even more inconvenience the family that was hosting them. Outside was a bustle of activity; villagers scurried to and fro, led by the nose where they would be needed by militiamen. Children ran and played in the street, their jovial laughter a bizarre contrast to the otherwise dour mood that had settled over the town. As a group of children passed by them playing some kind of game involving a stick and a loop of wood, Shahin was certain he saw the slightest hint of a smile tug at the corner of Heartwood’s mouth.

Down the road, closer to the middle of town, Shahin spotted what he felt was likely their destination. Someone had parked what looked like an alchemist’s shop on wheels right in the middle of the road and that had drawn quite a crowd. As they drew closer to the cart, Shahin was better able to make out the details. At the center of the crowd, standing on the cart proper, was a tall woman with a mane of crimson curls who looked to be gesturing to the many plants scattered on her rolling alchemy shop and explaining them to the villagers. The armor she wore was intricate and looked to be expensive, the silver detailing shimmering in brilliant contrast against the dark red backing. She wore a wide smile as Shahin and Sergeant Statue passed by, too engrossed in her work to give much notice to either of them. Though he didn’t recognize her face, her tabard indicated she was Sunguard.  Clearly there was no need for his presence here; all seemed quiet.

He made a mental note to speak to her later.

Both men rounded another corner and wound deeper into the small village. The nearer they got to the square, the more apparent the problem became. Dissenting voices shouted over one another loudly enough that even a street over Shahin could hear them clearly enough to get an idea of the situation. He breathed in deep through his nose and exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, bracing himself for the argument he knew was literally around the corner. Sure enough, they made the final turn that spilled them out into the town square and were greeted by another small crowd of people standing back toward the fountain at the center of the square while two men stood toe to toe, each shouting over the other. Off to the side, in crimson and gold, was Knight-Adept Autumnlight. She was pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as the two men argued, clearly fed up with the both of them.

Thankfully, Shahin and Sergeant Heartwood arrived before she murdered anyone.

Her head snapped up and around at the sound of approaching footfalls, heels clicking together and arms rigid at her sides. With drilled precision, her right hand thumped against her chest in salute as she barked “Sir!” at their approach. Shahin returned her salute, albeit a little more half-hearted, and gestured for her to stand down. Immediately, the blonde woman’s posture relaxed and she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Adept,” Knight-Sergeant Heartwood rumbled, “status report for the Emberward.”

“That won’t be necessary. I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on here.”

Shahin approached the two arguing men, whose shouting had reached a pitch he was certain only dogs could hear at this point, and drew in another deep breath.

“Gentlemen.” Neither of them answered. Annoyed, he tried again. “Gentlemen.” Still, neither man would stop shouting. Shahin turned over his shoulder toward Heartwood and gestured forward.

“If you would please, Sergeant.”

“That is enough!”

The man’s voice boomed like a bomb had been dropped in the middle of the square and all heads swiveled immediately toward him. Shahin was certain he could have heard a mouse cross the street in the now deafening silence. He smiled warmly and gave a nod.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Now then.” He turned his focus back to the arguing villagers. “My name is Shahin, Emberward of the Sunguard and commander of the Blood Knights presently protecting your village.” Both of them turned toward him and opened their mouths at the same time to try and speak over one another. Shahin held up a hand to silence them. “Let’s keep this civilized, if you please. One at a time.”

The man on the left glowered at him. He was older, thin, and looked like a genuinely unpleasant fellow. Between his callused hands, simple choice of clothing, slightly stooped posture and all around grouchy disposition, Shahin placed him as a farmer.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Wiarrin Firevale. I own half the farms that feed this village.”

“And yours?”

“Jaeth Silversun. I run a store here in town.”

Shahin smiled at the two of them and folded his hands behind his back.

“Much more pleasant. Now then. What seems to be the problem?”

Almost immediately, Wiarrin got right up in Shahin’s face and jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest, making sure to repeat the gesture every few words.

“You are the problem! You and your Blood Knights and your Sunguard! You killed a bunch of those bandits, and now they’ll be back- only this time they’ll be out for blood!” Shahin arched a brow as the old man practically shouted at him. “And now- now that you’ve made this mess, we’re going to suffer for it! You’re asking us to abandon our farms, our livelihood! We’ve spent generations working this land and now these bastards are going to destroy it because you stuck your noses where they don’t belong!”

Before Shahin could even start to open his mouth to speak, Jaeth stepped in.

“Oh, come off it you old goat! They saved our lives and risked their own to do it. These people aren’t the problem, the bandits are!”

“And what would you know about our problems, city boy?! You may be safe here behind your walls, but we ain’t got that! It’s the farmers that suffer most from raids like this. If it wasn’t for them-” Wiarrin jabbed his finger right in Shahin’s face now “-they’d have done what bandits always do. They’d have taken what they wanted and left us alone.”

Clearly this was going nowhere. Shahin cast a sidelong glance at Knight-Sergeant Heartwood, who was unreadable and stoic-faced as ever, and Knight-Adept Autumnlight, who looked somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Slowly, his attention shifted from his two Knights to the assembled crowd of townsfolk. In their faces he saw the same things he’d seen his entire life; fear, dismay, sadness, anger, and some smatterings of hope. As the two men devolved into an argument again, Shahin pushed his way in between them and decided to address the group as a whole.

“Listen to me, all of you.” He was having to project a bit to ensure he could be heard over the bickering duo behind him. “You do not know me, but I know you. I have seen your faces before because I was one of you.” Suddenly, the arguing behind him died down. “I was born a farmer’s son in the south of Quel’thalas. I know what it is to live as you do, to live in a state of constant fear. Fear that the crops will not yield enough harvest, fear that the rains will not come, fear that one day a roving band of Trolls will decide that your family suddenly looks appetizing.”

All eyes were on him now.

“Your elder is correct. We bloodied the bandits and now they will be sure to return, angry and seeking revenge. It is the Sunguard’s intent to safeguard your village, but we lack the resources to protect the outlying farmlands. For this reason, yes, we have asked you to relocate. Yes, it is likely your farms will burn and your crops will be destroyed.” A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd. “But farms can be rebuilt. Tools can be mended. Crops can be replanted. Your lives and the lives of your families, however, are not so easily replaced. We are confident we can hold the village against any reprisal.”

“Then why,” demanded Wiarrin, “are you asking our people to fight?!”

Shahin sighed.

“Because the Sunguard won’t always be here to defend your village for you. With all the woes of the world, we cannot keep a permanent force stationed here. Not even a token one.” He leveled his gaze squarely on Wiarrin. “If you learn to defend yourselves, you won’t need us ever again.”

The old man sputtered for a moment, looking indignant as anger rose to his cheeks. “And with what, exactly, are we to fight? Pitchforks? Shovels? We’re farmers! We have no weapons!”

A smile crept across Shahin’s face. He reached toward the Knight-Sergeant with his left hand and silently gestured to his colleague. Within a moment, he had what he needed gripped firmly in his hand.

“With this,” he said, holding it above his head, “the simple spear.” Shahin offered the spear to Wiarrin and gestured for him to take it. The old man warily accepted.

“The weapon you have in your hand has won more wars than any cannon, any siege weapon, any magic, or any knight ever has in the history of warfare. The spear is effective and it’s inexpensive, ranging from something as elaborate as a halberd or a ranseur to something as simple as a sharpened piece of wood. We will teach you to march. We will teach you discipline. We will teach you to fight.”

His attention fell again upon the silenced crowd before him. “Those of you who wish to help form the Silverbrook Militia and learn to protect your homes and your lives may speak with Knight-Sergeant Heartwood and Knight-Adept Autumnlight. We will accept any and all volunteers. If you want a place, we will secure one for you. Those of you who do not wish to pursue this path may do so without reprimand. No one will conscript you.”

The murmur had elevated to a low roar now as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves now. Already a few villagers had begun to step forward and approach Autumnsun, who now looked as much relieved as she was happy. Satisfied that the situation was now resolved, Shahin exhaled a breath and began to casually stroll back the way he and the Knight-Sergeant had come.

“Keep me posted on recruitment numbers, if you please. The Knight-Commander will be keen to know what resources we have available to us.”

Heartwood nodded and, as Shahin rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, added:

“I thought you were going to throw me out a window if I brought you more paperwork.”

( @sakialyn and @sparklepriest for mentions )