Justice for the Village

The night could not bear to witness the devastation of this small village, and her tears fell in torrents.

The mischievous winter child blew a breath of cold air, turning the tears into ice crystals that became hailstones, pelting down onto the wheat fields.

The tender wheat shoots, which had just been nourished by the winter snow and looked fresh and green, suffered this undeserved calamity…

“Stop crying, stop crying. Watching too many of these little people’s dramas is bad for your health, and crying too much gives you wrinkles.”

“You think I’m old?” Night wiped the tears from her eyes. “You must be thinking about that little b*tch.”

The Sun found his wife’s irrationality amusing. “What does this have to do with the Moon? Alright, alright, time to go to work…”

The Sun coaxed Lady Night away, personally dressed his wife in a black suit and nude stockings, and pushed and shoved her to the other side of the Earth—the European continent had arrived at daytime.

“The little ones have been making a ruckus all night, and finally quieted down. Now I can finally get some good sleep.” The Sun put on his ‘Corona’ nightcap, gathered patches of clouds from the horizon, patted them, and the cotton-like clouds bounced away. He covered his face with a blanket made of clouds, and the daylight immediately dimmed. “With the wife away, I might as well sleep a bit longer~” The Sun, working from home, chose to slack off at his workstation.

“Finally, it’s over.” The camera ‘whooshed’ from the sky back to the ground. A golden-haired girl clutched her hood in her hand, tossing aside a pair of bloodstained leather gloves with iron plates on the fingers.

Inside the village, red, white, and black contrasted with each other. The thatched cottages were reduced to crumbling earthen walls, and… charred, crimson corpses lay scattered, dyeing the white snow with color.

The only remaining guard, with the help of the villagers, dragged over one corpse after another. Whether they were villagers or bandits, they were all gathered in an open space.

The guard, with a bandage on his head and a pallid face, said to Noren, “My lady, the bodies have all been moved.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded silently.

On the white snow, the corpses lay quietly. They were neatly arranged in 15 rows and 11 columns. Some had hideous, mutilated faces, some had their eyes closed in peace, and others were completely charred black, only their human shapes discernible.

“Whose families…” One hundred and fifty-seven bodies lay there. Noren felt a lump in her chest, stuck in her throat, neither up nor down, truly uncomfortable. “Hoo—” She exhaled a puff of white mist. Lifting her head, she finished the sentence: “Take them home, each to their own.”

The surviving villagers were mostly children. The 200 newcomers had likely fled clean after the bandits entered the village. As for the original villagers… Noren swept her eyes over them, roughly forty or fifty people remaining, most of them children.

The children huddled together. They cast bewildered, numb gazes at her.

Noren felt terrible, as if something inside her had suddenly been yanked, a sour, numbing sensation in her chest.

“I grant you permission to bury your loved ones away from water sources.” Her voice was a little hoarse.

“Blergh—” A child couldn’t hold it in, vomiting profusely on all fours. As one person vomited, the others immediately smelled the burnt smell of the corpses, the stench of blood, and the odor of feces and urine from burst intestines and relaxed bladder and bowel muscles after death. All these smells mixed together.

The children all vomited, and even the remaining fifteen farmers threw up. For a moment, retching sounds filled the air. Among the various smells, a new odor joined—the sour, fishy smell of gastric juices.

A little girl about twelve years old stepped forward, pale-faced, and asked, “My lady, c-c-can you lend me a piece of white cloth… sniffle… I-I want to wrap their bodies.” The little girl sobbed.

Under the emotional influence, Noren couldn’t help biting the inside of her cheek. The sting suppressed the inexplicable sadness. She forced a smile: “Of course. Later, I will also invite a priest to pray for the departed in the village. They will enjoy bliss under the protection of the Heavenly Father.”

“What about the bandits?” The little girl wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up. “Will the bandits also go to heaven? If the bandits go to heaven too, then will my father, mother, younger brother, and younger sister suffer the same fate there?”

Her heart tightened. Noren felt as if a heavy hammer had struck her chest, her body frozen as if under a spell. Her red lips parted slightly, dazed.

“Will they also go to heaven?” The little girl asked again. Her eyes were extremely earnest.

The children, farmers, and guards all looked over, waiting for the Norse girl to give an answer. This answer would also be their last consolation.

“No!” She was resolute. “These beasts will absolutely not be sent to heaven. They will fall into hell and suffer torment for all eternity! The demons of purgatory will pull out their tongues, cut off their limbs, and they will be tied to burning stakes for eternal roasting. The raging flames will continuously shatter their flesh and souls, surrounded by wailing sounds, tormenting them with piercing cries while they endure the fire…”

“Amen.” Someone intoned.

The living people clasped their hands together and chanted the Lord’s name. One “Amen” after another drifted from the open space, filling the Norse girl’s ears.

“Noren!” A sudden voice rang out. “Look what I caught!” It was Halfdan. He and Weiz were carrying a tightly bound man, running over with “heave-ho” sounds, and with a “thump,” the man was thrown to the ground, dazed.

“This guy, the one I fought with for ages last night.” Halfdan stepped on Ram’s back. “This bastard should be the bandit leader.”

Noren turned to look. Ram was tied up like an earthworm, stubbornly lifting his head but only able to see Noren’s long, straight legs.

“I am a subordinate of Jaromir, a knight’s squire. Don’t kill me!” Ram twisted his body desperately. The fellow must have been hit on the head by a stone last night, losing his mind, completely forgetting the hatred the natives of Opava bore for Jaromir.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” A woman screamed. She tried to rush over, but the guard grabbed her. “The lady hasn’t interrogated him yet.” Pulled back, the woman suddenly broke down crying, squatting down and covering her face in pain, tears seeping through her fingers. “My child…”

Halfdan and Weiz still had excited expressions from catching the prisoner, cheerful, completely out of place with the sorrow of the crowd. The two Norse youths scratched their heads and stopped smiling.

“Who sent you?” Noren crouched in front of Ram, legs together.

“Jaromir.”

Pinching open Ram’s mouth, Noren grabbed one of his front teeth with her thumb and index finger. “I’ll ask again,” Noren’s tone was icy, like the cold wind of February. “Who. Sent. You?”

“Ja… aahhh… waaah…” Ram let out an extremely painful wail. He tried to bite down, but Noren’s powerful grip held him fast. One front tooth, with blood. She tossed it away. She felt for the other front teeth. She said nothing, just waited for Ram to answer.

Ram was dizzy from pain, breathing rapidly in short gasps. “Huff, huff, huff, huff…” After the pain subsided a little. “No one sent us.” No tooth pulled. Ram’s mind relaxed slightly. Then she asked, “Your identity.” “Ja…” “Crack.” Three front teeth were yanked out, seeming to break his lower jaw.

Ram’s eyes widened, his whole body choking, stiff and twitching. The pain, more intense than the last tooth extraction, sent him into protective shock. His eyes closed, he passed out.

“Slap, slap, slap, slap…” A flurry of slaps, and the unconscious Ram woke up again. His head was foggy, looking up dazedly. “Your identity.” “Prague archer squad, Ram.” “Why did you attack my village?” “Because we were afraid news of… the plunder of Ludgrove would leak…”

“The hunter?” The Norse girl quickly reacted.

Ram passed out again. Noren slapped him again, but he wouldn’t wake.

“Tie him to the post.”

“And then?” Halfdan blinked.

“And then—” Noren turned to look at the angry and grieving villagers, pulling the corners of her mouth flat without any emotion. “Leave him to the angry villagers.”