The Price of Insurrection

“Put down your weapons, all of you!” A roar echoed from nearby, its fury undeniable even amidst the howling wind and sudden blizzard.

Wood strode forward menacingly, leading several knights. His anger was palpable, and the knights behind him all wore heavy frowns.

“Put down your weapons! Are you deaf?!” Wood bellowed a second time. Only then did the soldiers, their minds seemingly frozen by the cold, scramble to drop their arms and salute the esteemed knights.

“Tell me, what happened?” The wind and snow lashed against Wood’s face, yet it did nothing to cool his temper. He desperately needed to know why his soldiers were fighting among themselves, especially with battle imminent.

The rogue soldier, clutching his face and whimpering, crawled over and latched onto Wood’s leg. “Sir Wood, please do me justice! This wretched fellow just walked up and punched me without a word!”

As he spoke, the rogue pointed to the bruise on his face. “Look, this is the proof.”

“Nonsense!”

“Damn your mother!”

“You were clearly the one who…”

The rogue’s preemptive accusation ignited the veterans’ indignation. They immediately began to curse the rogue’s ancestors, and the rogue’s faction, unwilling to back down, erupted into another heated argument. They hurled insults at each other, spittle flying, their foul language turning Wood’s face ashen.

“I said—SILENCE! SILENCE! SILENCE!”

Wood’s third roar, fueled by pure fury, shot skyward, as if even the wind and snow paused for a moment. The chief knight under Jaromir’s command was livid; these soldiers had utterly disregarded his authority, and he was enraged.

Wood kicked away the rogue soldier clinging to his leg, leaving a clear boot print on his face. “A man about to go into battle, yet you’re crying like a woman! If you shed another tear, do you believe I won’t chop off your dog’s head right now?”

The rogue’s mouth instantly puckered like a chrysanthemum. He clapped his hands over his mouth and vigorously shook his head, indicating he would not cry out again.

Seeing that silence had finally fallen, the ashen color receded from Wood’s face. He scanned the assembled crowd and slowly spoke, “Now, can anyone tell me the full story?”

The veteran stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Respected Sir Wood, esteemed knights, the matter is quite simple. The man who was just clinging to your honorable leg attempted to kill a conscripted militiaman, but I stopped him.”

Wood looked at the veteran, who was dressed as a heavy infantryman in leather armor. The veteran’s words held some credibility. To afford leather armor, a short sword, and a spear suggested he was at least a prosperous commoner with some assets.

Just as Wood was about to inquire further, the rogue soldier shrieked.

“Liar! I didn’t try to kill him! You said he had a fever, so I went to take off his clothes!” The rogue felt deeply wronged. In this freezing weather, he didn’t understand why the Duke would assign 100 light infantry and 50 archers to Jaromir. He had been living comfortably, indulging in drink and gambling in the capital, Prague, only to be sent to suppress a rebellion. He was truly aggrieved.

The situation was now painfully clear. Wood slowly approached the rogue soldier, drawing his sword as he walked. The iron sword scraped against its scabbard, a distinct sound like a death knell.

The rogue soldier, of course, knew what Wood intended. He frantically snatched up a spear from the ground, attempting a futile resistance. But before he could even ready his stance, Wood’s sword, at an incredibly cunning angle, sliced across the rogue’s neck. Warm blood gushed onto the cold snow, instantly melting deep hollows.

Wood flicked his sword vigorously, and the beads of blood on the blade painted a vivid crimson stroke on the white ground. He then sheathed his sword.

“This man was suspected of robbery, murder, and attempting to attack a noble knight. He has now been executed by me. Do any of you… have any objections?”

Wood, his face stern and unyielding, swept his cold gaze across everyone. That icy stare was more chilling than the winter snow, and the sharp killing intent sent shivers down their spines.

The soldiers dared not meet Wood’s gaze; they all lowered their heads. Even the veteran was stunned by Wood’s swift execution and didn’t dare utter a single word of approval.

Wood observed that his decisive action had been quite effective. Morale had been low recently, and this would serve as an indirect boost.

He pointed at the rogue’s corpse and asked, “Whose soldier was he?”

Judging by the rogue’s attire, he was merely a light infantryman in linen armor. If he belonged to some knight, well, he had been killed, and Wood would at most compensate a few silver coins.

A light infantryman, also wearing linen armor, spoke up. “We were sent by the Duke…”

Wood pressed his palm downwards. “I understand. I will speak with your captain.” He then turned to the veteran. “And you?”

“Under Sir Laud’s command…”

Wood simply grunted in acknowledgment.

Before departing, Wood informed everyone that warming supplies from Hradec would arrive soon. They only needed to hold out a little longer, and if anyone unfortunately developed a fever, the army physicians would provide treatment.

Upon hearing Wood’s words, the soldiers’ most fundamental anxieties were temporarily quelled.

After inspecting this area, he generally patrolled the other parts of the encampment. Soldiers had, to varying degrees, engaged in minor skirmishes, but none had escalated to the point of mutiny. He knew they wouldn’t dare mutiny; their wives and children lived in various manors and within Prague. Unless they were truly ruthless individuals who disavowed all kin, most soldiers would rather endure the cold obediently than become deserters.

‘I hope Hradec brings the warming supplies quickly,’ Wood thought, a worried expression on his face. He wondered how many soldiers would be lost after this great snowfall.

****

South of Opava, Hradec was also blanketed in heavy snow. However, the city had arranged for dedicated personnel to clear the snow, preventing disruptions to traffic and averting the collapse of certain structures, such as the bridges in front of the north and south city gates.

“Haha! Serves them right! They expect me to transport warm clothing to them? What wishful thinking!”

Upon receiving the news, Sithis roared with laughter. It would be best if Jaromir’s army perished completely!

“Mayor, please provide a reply to the scout,” said a guard standing nearby. This personal guard had typical Slavic features: brown hair, light green eyes, and soft facial contours. He appeared to be seventeen or eighteen. He had previously accompanied the Mayor’s eldest son on a trading expedition to the city-states of Northern Italy, returning to Hradec in October of this year.

Sithis pondered for a moment. He still needed to maintain appearances. Raising a single finger, he instructed, “Here’s what you do: tell the scout to return first. Say that we’ll need a bit more time to mobilize the supplies, and that Sir Wood’s required warm clothing will follow shortly.”

The personal guard left and returned. “Mayor, I repeated your words to him verbatim.”

Sithis nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent.”

Now, let’s see how he handles this!