Loïck watched the corpse of the commoner with scorn. They had no place on a battlefield, only serving to fill in the gaps left by the true warriors of the army. Or they could be used as diversions. On a second thought, they served their role perfectly. As fodder.

Loïck turned around and walked back to his horse, which had diligently stayed in place. It was trained to do so after all, like it was trained to fight with him. He shouldn’t have finished the peasant off, but he didn’t like half-kills. Either you had a kill, or you didn’t. Plus, it was merciful. In a certain way.

It was faint, a friction of leather. But he still heard it, and quickly turning around, he saw an old man charging him. What a fool, the man was better equipped than the other peasants, but still a commoner.

He easily took the first blow with his shield, and looked his enemy up close. A middle-aged bearded man, and this wasn’t his first battle. It would be his last though. They exchanged a few more blows, the enemy using his shield to deflect his attacks rather than taking them head-on.

Suddenly, Loïck took a surprising hit to the head. The blow was overreached and weak, but it was a hit nonetheless. With renewed anger and fury, Loïck grabbed his sword with two hands, quickly shaking his shield off, and began raining blows over the older opponent. It was a risky tactic, but he relied on his heavy armour to resist any weak and quick blows the soldier might get through.

It was unnecessary though; the old man was driven back, desperately trying to defend himself. A horizontal hit with the great sword broke through his guard, and landed in his side. The enemy groaned and sprang back, but Loïck didn’t let him rest, following up with devastating attack to his head.

Loïck satisfyingly watched his opponent fall to the ground, with a huge dent in the helmet. The man would soon die, if he wasn’t already dead. Nobody survived having a dent in the head. With a confident and victorious smile, Loïck stuck the sword in his throat, effectively finishing the man off.

His arms were exhausted from the relentless attacks, so he quickly headed towards his horse again. He suddenly realised how dangerous it had been to leave the horse, and made a mental note to avoid doing that again, even if it was to finish an enemy off, and fall behind on the kill count. He didn’t want to lose to Jason again, but the horse could just as easily have been struck down, or stolen.

Suddenly, he anxiously looked right, thinking he had heard a sound. Then he heard another sound coming from his left, and this time, he heard it clearly.

He immediately turned on himself and swung with his sword, and he heard a surprised scream and the breaking of bones. A young fellow had received his swing with the head, and had fallen down while unleashing a series of screams and plaints. Only one problem, this man was no enemy, but one of his own.

Loïck took a quick look around, and seeing nobody close, he once again finished a man off. But this time, he didn’t take pride in it. Not much shame or guilt either, they were on a battlefield after all. These things tend to happen. He just didn’t want people to think that he was one of those idiots, killing people by accident. It was a proof of lack of control, and clumsiness, some would say. Hurrying away from the scene, he mounted his horse and rode away in the night. No witness, no crime.

Loïck rode into the camp, watching the joyful men-at-arms celebrate their successful attack. Dawn had come, and they were finally back. Loïck arrived at his personal tent, where his page stood and waited.

The boy was eleven years old now, he recalled. His squire had chosen him, and until now he had been diligent in his duties. Loïck dismounted, and took off his great helm, finally getting a breath of fresh air. He passed his hand through his thick and dishevelled dark hair, which almost reached his shoulders.

“Page, take good care of Mars. He’s done well today.” Loïck said, referring to his horse.

“Yes, sir. And... Em, my name is George...” The page said, daring a quick look to the knight’s face.

“Right.” The page led Mars off to be relieved off of its armour and saddle, and then brushed and inspected for eventual wounds, however small they were. There was always a risk of infection or worsening an injury, and warhorses of this quality of breed were rare and expensive, even for a man with his means.

Loïck walked into the tent, where his squire sat quietly.

“Nikolaus! You feel better, yet?” Loïck asked, while putting the great helm down and passing the heavy and high-quality chain mail over his head, throwing it in a pile with his great helm.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry for the trouble.” Nikolaus said as he looked down at his arm. It had been injured during their sparring a few days ago.

“No matter. I killed for the two of us.” He declared with triumph, while taking off his hardened leather tunic and then taking on some comfortable wool garments, protections against the cold.

He then sat himself down on the skins, relaxing.

“I’m very relieved to hear that.” Nikolause said in well hidden sarcastic tone, which Loïck nevertheless heard and ignored. “So, the war is over?” He asked while hadning him a water skin.

“Wouldn’t count on it. These Salisiens are stubborn; they may just retreat to their castles and wait it out...” He said, taking a sip from it, and then letting out a sigh.

Sieges could be long and tiresome affairs. On the bright side, they would be able to continue looting this countryside. Peasant women were filthy, and nothing in comparison to the highborn beauties he had tasted, but they were so much easier. While a noble lady required weeks, sometimes months of courting, a peasant could simply be taken and discarded without any sort of consequence whatsoever.

“Nikolaus, go find some soldiers. Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can have some fun.” He said with an anticipating smile. Whether this victory had been decisive or not, the war hadn’t been officially ended. They could still loot and plunder to their heart’s content.

The next morning, Loïck rode out with a close friend at his side. Jason was a fellow knight, one he had encountered when he first swore oath to Lord Wilhelm. They had on numerous occasions gotten drunk together, and otherwise just appreciated each other’s company. He was probably his closest friend as of now.

Behind them there were a couple of dozens mounted soldiers, as well as Jason’s squire.

“How far away is the village?” Jason asked him.

Loïck shrugged with a helpless smile. “I don’t know. I figured there’d be one eventually.”

Jason’s shook his head. “If we don’t find anything, I swear, I’m gonna take out my frustration on you.”

“I can lend you my page. My squire is still in bandages though.” Loïck said with a wry smile, and Jason chuckled.

They didn’t have to ride long though, as the fields soon came into view. The village hadn’t been plundered yet, as the army had just arrived in the region. They set in gallop, as to not give the villagers much time to hide away their valuables, in other words their daughters.

They heard some warning screams, which they discarded. They rode in the centre of the village, and dismounted. Loïck saw a few men assemble together with their families. He didn’t see any girls, unsurprisingly. Instructing a few soldiers to keep an eye on them, he and Jason walked into the nearest house.

The crude door opened, and they entered in a single room.

“Wow, those guys were quick to hide them away.” Jason said with an amused smile. They began pulling things apart, but found nothing.

“Jason, search the next houses. I’m gonna have a talk with those people.” Loïck said. Jason nodded with a grin, and disappeared into the next hut. He then walked over to the villagers standing in a mass in the centre, with soldiers on all sides.

“Okay guys, the first to tell me where the girls are hiding, gets away without a single scratch.” No movement. He drew his sword, which provoked a series of gasps from them. “And if nobody tells me within the next ten seconds, I’m gonna make somebody a head shorter.”

A moment passed. Then a man took a step forward. “I will not tolerate this. You...” He didn’t get any farer before Loïck decapitated him. A few soldiers’ brows rose with surprise. It was actually quite a difficult feat to behead somebody in a single swing, which required an excellent blade and a good amount of practise. Loïck had gotten both in excess.

A woman erupted in tears and began begging him, telling him that there were no more girls, that they had all been taken... He cut her down without mercy. She annoyed the hell out of him, being loud, annoying and ugly.

“Now, does anybody have anything to say?” He said as he crouched down and cleaned his blade on her clothes.

Then he heard Jason come out in triumph, dragging out a screaming girl by her hair. She was by no means a beauty, but she wasn’t ugly either.

He grew a little frustrated, his friend having already found a girl while he was still here trying to get something from these morons.

He turned towards them again, and sighed while effortlessly swinging the sword in a circle with his wrist.

“There’s my daughter! She’s in that house!” A panicked little man shouted with despair.

“Why, thank you! That wasn’t so difficult!” He said while with a grateful smile on his lips. It was entirely faked though. He made sign to the soldiers, who began ransacking the other houses, while some pulled the more mature women away from the group. Uproars emerged, more people were cut down.

Loïck walked into the house, and searched through it. He grew increasingly irritated as he couldn’t find her, but then, a woman suddenly stepped of a room he hadn’t seen yet.

Instead of hiding, she simply came forward. Taken by surprise, it took him a few seconds to react. Then she shocked him even further.

“Please, take me away from this place.” She told him, her face and voice revealing a mixture of fear and hope.