“Ma’am, why does everyone here look at us that way?” Jared asked, trying to keep his tone light even as unease crawled up his spine.
The old woman’s hands trembled, just once, before she forced a smile. “Think nothing of it. They’re all good people. Rest now. I’ll fetch supper…”
She then slipped out, the door thudding shut behind her like the final word in a grim sentence. Jared met Sylvia’s eyes across the dim room. Neither spoke, but in that silent exchange, they laid out every fear.
Something here is wrong… We need to be ready to run.Two days crawled past. Every hour, the villagers’ stares grew bolder, their smiles thinner.
At night, Jared heard whispered gatherings beyond the livestock pens, dozens of voices murmuring over the crackle of hidden fires, as though rehearsing a terrible chorus.
On the third night, a sudden clamor shattered the hush. Boots pounded, dogs howled.
Jared snatched Sylvia’s arm, and together, they crept to the cracked wooden door. Through a narrow gap, they saw orange torchlight flickering across the yard.
Villagers ringed the shack shoulder to shoulder, torches in one hand, farm tools and rusted blades in the other.
At their head stood a broad-shouldered, scarred man, grinning with teeth that caught the firelight like broken glass. A cleaver-sized knife rested easily across his palm.
“You outsiders must be carrying fine treasures,” the man, Bruno, bellowed, voice booming over the crackling flames. “Hand them over, nice and quiet, or we’ll carve the truth out of your hides!”
The words fell like stones into place.
Jared felt it first, a cold, clean certainty. Sylvia understood an instant later.
The villagers’ smiles had never been welcome; they had been measuring tapes. Greedfall Hamlet, true to its name, intended to bleed them for every last secret they possessed.
“You pack of ravenous scavengers!” Jared’s voice cracked through the still morning air like a whip, his chest heaving with fury. “We came to Greedfall Hamlet seeking aid, yet all you can think about is how to bleed us dry?”
Bruno curled his lip into a sneer, the broad blade resting across his shoulder gleaming wickedly. “Save your breath. In a land ruled by tooth and claw, power crowns the king. You two strangers wander in with your strength shackled by this realm. Hand over whatever treasure you carry, or die where you stand.”
Jared and Sylvia traded a single, silent glance. In her storm-grey eyes, he saw the same grim resolve that burned in his own.
Mercy had been offered and rejected. The villagers had chosen savagery, Jared would answer in kind.
“Ms. Vale, let’s go!” he roared, flinging himself forward in a blur of motion.
Sylvia met the charge without a flicker of fear. Her longsword swept in a shimmering arc, releasing a razor ribbon of sword energy that screamed toward Bruno’s throat.
Bruno twisted aside with practiced ease. Steel flashed as his cleaver hacked down, its wind shear howling for Sylvia’s blood.
Jared’s palms ignited with runic gold. Sigils burst from his skin and streaked outward like meteors, each rune a miniature spear aimed at the encircling villagers.
The villagers scattered. Even so, several were struck, their agonized cries rose above the clash of metal before fading into gurgling silence.
The clearing erupted into chaos. Though suppressed by the realm’s unseen chains, Jared and Sylvia fought with veteran precision, matching will for will against overwhelming numbers.
But the mob seemed endless. From every shadow, more villagers poured in, their crude weapons glinting, their eyes feral with greed, closing the circle tighter and tighter.
Minutes bled away. Blades rang, bones cracked. Exhaustion nibbled at Jared’s focus, at Sylvia’s breath.
Fresh wounds opened—slashes across shoulders, punctures along ribs—each one leaking crimson that soaked into the dust. Still, they refused to yield, teeth clenched against pain, hearts locked on survival.
When hope thinned to a thread, Jared’s mind flashed to the ancient power coiled within his veins, his Golden Dragon Bloodline. He summoned it. Energy surged, molten and majestic, fusing with his stifled spirit.
A thunderous power exploded from his body. The very ground shuddered as invisible wings unfurled behind him, spreading a sovereign dragon’s power across the battlefield.
Faces blanched. The villagers staggered back, terror widening their eyes as that primal pressure crushed their courage. Even Bruno, so smug moments earlier, stumbled, all bravado draining from him as he realized the storm he had provoked.
