Beating down on the man's face, the sun causes him to shield his eyes.
"All this marching is going to kill me…"
The comrade to his right chuckles.
"I'd say we're almost there, hang on for a little longer, John."
Another soldier padded up slightly and chined in.
"Can't believe they're sending 200 of us for one person, it's insane!"
"I guess they don't want a repeat of the last time."
One of them sighed deeply while shaking his head.
"This better be worth it, I know this area isn't exactly hostile to us Englishmen, but I'd rather be with the main forces than out in some trash clump of villages in the slums."
"Honestly, I'd rather be on this assignment instead. There's enough of us to take on pretty much any single force in the area."
John groaned.
"That's what I'm worried about. Why send so many of us to take out a farmer?"
"Well that farmer isn't staying a farmer for long, John."
The man rolled his eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"My cousin told me a small group of followers have started to gather around them. The general said we need to take them out now before something worse comes of all this."
"Then why not send 50 of us? 200 seems like way too much for a small legion of peasants…—"
His battle brothers both shrug. John rubs his nose slowly while clearing his throat.
"—I mean come on… If you ask me, I think he's just mad that his brother died in that little village. What idiot raids a town with 25 soldiers."
"I heard 14 of them died."
"To a bunch of raggedy farmers? What a disgrace to the king…"
"Two of the survivors kept babbling about some sort of demon in the village."
"Really, grown men shouldn't make up such idiodic stories to cover up their own weakness."
"I don't know John, they were pretty sure of what they saw."
"And what'd they see, a giant monster with wings and horns?"
"Idiot, demons can appear in human form too. They were going on and on about a kid with a sword."
John laughed loudly, causing the other soldiers, originally out of earshot, to look his way.
"A kid!? Half their little band was wiped out by a kid?"
"Only a few of them were killed by him, but they're convinced he was a demon. They say even with a spear in his heart, he kept fighting."
"Pffft… Like I'd believe that junk."
"I'm serious. They said he fought like a beast. When the two survivors got there, another two soldiers were already on the floor dead and the demon was badly injured. Even with injuries, they said he could dodge and deflect arrows in an instant."
"What a ludicrous fairytale."
"The part that scared me, is how he killed an archer."
"Oh yeah?"
"They said he ripped the spear out of his heart and threw it at the archer a hundred horses away!"
"Who measures in horses!?"
His buddy shrugged.
"Doesn't matter, both men were adamant they were going to die."
"They ran?"
"Of course, how do you think they lived to tell the tale?"
"Disgraceful, that all seems like a bunch of horse shit if you ask me, Martin."
Seconds of silence passed as John's friend searched for a rebuttal.
"HALT!"
Their commanding officer's voice boomed out among the front of the crowd.
Both Martin and the other soldier, who'd mainly been silent, quickly fumbled into their respective spots.
Each and every soldier stood at attention side by side with one another. 20 rows of 10 men stood on the dirt path, still as a mouse standing before a lion.
John's feet ached as he stood tall near the front of the army.
He'd been a soldier for years. Surviving multiple treacherous battles of this impossibly long war had hardened him into a tool for death.
His longsword had become his best friend, his armor had become his greatest ally, and his mind had become his greatest tool.
Years of fighting yet his body was unblemished, a testament to his innate battle prowess.
Martin, the person behind him, was not as experienced. The young man had just recently joined the fight against the devilish French army. This was his first mission, and he'd been using John as a way to calm his fear.
As Long as John was here, Martin had little to fear.
That was Martin's belief at least.
John couldn't promise Martin would be safe, but telling the young soldier such a thing would do nothing but strike fear into the boy.
It had been many years since someone so happy interacted with him. Most soldiers were tired and depressed from the long war they'd been fighting for years.
At times, John wondered if all the fighting was worth it.
I mean for christ's sake, 200 men were being sent to murder a peasant and their group of lackeys.
Was this really what they should be wasting their time doing?
His commander walked down the line slowly before stopping John's row.
Reaching his arm out, the commander cleared his throat.
"All men on my left will be staying here and setting up a small camp. All men on my right will come with me to scout the village."
60 soldiers stepped forward, and 140 men backed up.
"The majority of you will set up camp while the minority of us will ensure the information I was given is correct. If all is correct, we will return within the hour and commence an attack on the target. After successfully exterminating our target, we'll rest at the camp you'll be setting up for the night, and then we begin our march back towards the main army."
Without another word, the commander began walking as the 60 men, including John, began to follow closely behind.
Looking back, he could see Martin staring blankly at him.
A small wave was all he could reply with.
Martin waved back.
They'd be back soon, so there was no need for the young soldier to worry.
Atleast 20 minutes had passed in silent marching.
This force seemed a bit too large for scouting in John's mind, but questioning his commander would just be foolish. The trouble it'd bring him wasn't worth the breath it took to speak out.
A large arrow slung past John's nose and impaled his comrade.
"What!?"
Quickly, everyone drew their weapons and shields before glancing around.
"AMBUSH!"
More large arrows flew towards the soldiers, and each arrow pierced the men's shielders with no resistance. They came from all directions in a quick successive volley.
Half the soldiers had already been ran through before they could react.
"What the hell is happening!?"
John's breath began to quicken.
Was this some new kind of bow?
How were his comrades' shields being broken so easily?
Looking around in a panic, John's eyes fixed on what had punctured his brother in arm's armor.
"They're shooting…"
Swords…?