"I'm... I'm glad I could help," Amon replied, the words feeling inadequate as he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of unfamiliar discomfort.
"I'm sorry for those that you lost." His gaze swept over the haggard faces, the hollow eyes of survivors staring into a void of grief.
"Please, could you tell us your name, brave warrior?" a man from the crowd called out, his voice rough with smoke and sorrow.
"My name is Amon."
"Young Amon, please stay," the elder woman implored, stepping forward.
"Allow us to properly thank you for the kindness you have shown us. I believe without you, we all would have been doomed to a terrible fate."
"Yes, but please give me one moment," Amon said, his voice firm but gentle.
"I have to keep a promise." He turned and walked back toward the dense bush where he had left the young girl, his long strides eating up the distance.
Quickly making his way to the spot, he moved the crates that hid her and offered a small, weary smile as he saw the small form, still trembling and crying.
"I promised I would come back," Amon said softly. The girl looked up, and a wave of relief washed over her face. She rushed into his arms, burying her face in his chest and sobbing with a mixture of happiness and profound relief.
Picking her up into his arms, Amon carried her back to the village center. The scene that greeted him was one of quiet desolation.
The remaining villagers were gathering their deceased loved ones, laying them out in neat, tragic rows. Seeing tears running down their faces, hearing their choked cries of sorrow, and feeling the palpable agony in their hearts, Amon could not help but grow enraged at the suffering they had endured.
"Elder," he began, his voice low and serious,
"how did this happen? Where are the guards? Doesn't the Kingdom of Stellgard provide soldiers to each of its villages?"
"Yes, that was the case," she replied, her voice losing its gentle tone.
"But ten years ago, when the new king gained power, he recalled all stationed knights. He claimed the capital city needed every soldier for protection in the case of a war. A war that has never come."
"...I see," Amon said, the pieces clicking into place with grim clarity. He gently set the girl down on her feet.
"Please, could you watch over this young girl? I believe she..." "Yes," the elder said, her expression softening as she looked at the child.
"Abigail has always been a wonderful child. I would love to watch over her." She reached out and patted the young girl's head.
"Are you leaving?" Abigail asked, her small hand grabbing onto Amon's cloak with desperate strength.
"No, I just need to check something out," Amon said, kneeling to meet her eyes.
"I will be back in a moment, I promise." He gently patted her head before rising and leaving the pair. He walked to the forest at the entrance of the village, his critical eye taking in the crude wall that was meant to be their first line of defense.
"This wall was put up in a rush," he muttered, running a hand over the splintered wood.
"The timber they used was already rotten. Even before this raid, it was bound to fall. And not a single watchtower for regular villagers to use."
He surveyed the surrounding fields, now blackened and smoldering. "Most of the farmland was burned away, and their storage was raided. They don't even have a week's worth of food left."
Leaving the storage area, Amon walked back to the center of the village, his mind already racing with solutions.
"Elder," he began, but the woman held up a hand.
"Call me Vanessa," she said, her voice heavy with a fresh wave of grief.
"My husband was the village elder." "...I'm sorry for your loss, Vanessa," Amon said, bowing his head slightly.
"May I know where we are currently located?"
"We are on the eastern outskirts of the Kingdom of Stellgard, if that's what you're asking?" "So even if we send a messenger for aid, we won't receive any for at least a week, and that's if they hurry," Amon sighed, the weight of their isolation settling heavily upon him.
[This place is a perfect base,] Lilith's voice echoed in his mind.
[You have the people's gratitude. It will take time for them to send anyone if they send word, and it's close enough to monster territory for you to train.]
(You're right... I also wouldn't be able to just leave them like this.)
"Vanessa... I would like to ask something of you?" Amon said, his tone earnest.
"Yes, go ahead?" Vanessa replied, holding a now-calm Abigail's hand.
"Please allow me to take care of this village. I know you said your husband was the elder, and now that responsibility falls to you. But please, allow me to aid you. Let me help you rebuild, to improve the village's defenses and help you all recover from this?" He finished with a deep, respectful bow.
Vanessa looked at him, her eyes searching his face. She glanced at the crying masses, then at the body of an old man lying nearby, his lower and upper halves severed by a crude orc axe. A profound weariness seemed to settle over her.
"Hmm... let us talk tomorrow," she said, her voice flat. "The weather today is filled with rain... not a good day for such heavy decisions." She was not speaking of the sky, but of the tears that soaked the earth.
"Ah... yes. I'm sorry for being inconsiderate," Amon said, quickly straightening up.
"It's okay, I know you meant well," Vanessa said, her gaze drifting back to the body on the ground. Seeing her stare and the similar looks of despair on the other villagers' faces, Amon knew he couldn't just wait.
He lowered himself to the ground and placed his palms flat against the soil. Channeling his remaining mana, he focused on the rows of bodies. With a soft groan of shifting earth, the deceased lifted into the air, held aloft by an unseen force. Simultaneously, the ground at the edge of the village opened up, and earthen coffins, rough but sturdy, pushed their way to the surface. One by one, the bodies were gently lowered into their final resting places. As the last body was laid to rest, Amon used his plant magic. Vines and roots snaked across the mounds of dirt, weaving them together before a carpet of soft green moss and a scattering of small, white flowers bloomed over each grave, creating a peaceful, beautiful final resting place.
"I will return tomorrow morning," Amon said, his voice barely a whisper as he kept his head held low.
"Once again, I'm sorry for your losses." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the village and into the dark clearing, leaving the silent, stunned villagers to their grief and their newfound, impossible hope.