Chapter 43: The Raven's Feast

"Gwynnis, my child, I know everything. Those evil northerners have come, haven't they? Let's leave quickly! Come with us to my grandfather's place in Inverness, it's absolutely safe there!" Sophia pleaded.

Twenty years ago, when the northerners first plundered the Annon River Valley, Sophia wasn't yet married and living in Targas, spared from their ravages. Even in the safety of the south, she had heard of the northerners' infamy.

Now, facing the real threat, her first instinct was to flee as far as possible. She strongly urged Gwynnis to abandon his domain and return with them to the Duke of Inverness in the south.

However, Gwynnis shook his head, declining Sophia's invitation. "Lady Sophia, I've made my decision. Months ago, your grandfather wrote to me, asking for your and Gideon's release. I've thought it over. Keeping you in the dungeon is not a long-term solution. Rest assured, once the Hafdanians leave, I will release you, Gideon, and Juliana. I promise."

Gwynnis spoke with conviction, his eyes unflinching and determined. His words brought a surprised smile to the spiritless Gideon and a relieved, thankful gesture from Sophia, who knelt and thanked Agnes for her mercy. Only Juliana seemed unfazed, her brief glance at Gwynnis quickly fading to disappointment.

...

Leaving the dungeon, Gwynnis saw the village ablaze. The Hafdanians' rampage had begun. Breaking into homes, they found nothing but broken wooden furniture, no coins, no grain. Unable to find any living souls to vent their fury on, they set the entire village on fire, the flames piercing the night sky.

Gwynnis, passing through the courtyard, heard cries from the shadows. The Targas people helplessly watched everything they had built engulfed in merciless flames. After burning the village, the Hafdanians didn't linger, splitting into groups and marching in different directions, including towards Windermere City to the west.

Gwynnis suddenly remembered he had forgotten to send a warning to his fellow vassals. Without any forewarning, the Hafdanians would likely ravage everything in their path. Although they had already departed, there was still time to send cavalry to Windermere City and other noble domains with the news. The Hafdanians, lacking horses, couldn't outrun Gwynnis's riders.

At that moment, Gwynnis was torn, contemplating the benefits of sending a warning. As a vassal of the Earl of Annon River Valley, he was duty-bound to inform his peers of the invasion, allowing them to prepare defenses. This would not only save his fellow nobles from losses but also greatly aid the innocent villagers.

It was his obligation as a vassal and noble, a vow he had made to Agnes during his succession ceremony. Yet, in the end, he watched the Hafdanians, torches in hand, march further away, his eyes cast down in resignation.

"No, I'm trapped in the castle. The Hafdanian army has completely surrounded us, nobody can get out. My cavalry is almost entirely wiped out in the battle with the enemy, and I'm seriously injured, confined to bed. I have no way to contact the other nobles."

"Sadly, you're on your own," Gwynnis said indifferently.

At that moment, a raven descended onto the castle wall under the cover of night, its eyes reflecting the blazing village and Gwynnis's retreating figure.

...

In the pre-dawn hours, most lights in Windermere City were extinguished, leaving the city almost in total darkness except for a faint light at the city gate.

"Bang, bang, bang!" A series of urgent knocks startled the half-asleep guards, who grumbled as they opened a small window in the wooden gate to look out.

"Who's there? The gate's closed for the night. Come back in the morning!"

Usually, the city gates would be closed at night, barring entry or exit until daylight. Even early visitors for the market had to wait.

This time, however, it wasn't the usual supplicating smiles or coins that greeted the guards, but a long spear, piercing through one guard's chest. Simultaneously, a horde of Hafdanians scaled the two-meter-high wooden walls and flooded into the city!

The guards hastily blew their whistles, their sharp sound cutting through the quiet night but abruptly ceasing the next moment.

"Attack!"

"Brothers, charge in!"

As the Hafdanians shouted, the first wave opened the city gates, allowing more invaders to pour in, their war cries echoing throughout Windermere.

The sleeping citizens woke up in terror, unaware of the impending doom until the Hafdanians kicked down their doors.

Cries and violent acts filled the city. Men were slaughtered, and women were dragged screaming into houses and alleys. The Hafdanians plundered every movable item in the homes; what couldn't be taken was burned.

Windermere, the third-largest city in the North, had more wealth than the impoverished peasants of Targas. The citizens' years of accumulated wealth, including money, jewelry, furniture, livestock, and poultry, were either stolen or destroyed. The city was left with nothing but blood and flames.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

"Black Eye" Brock laughed maniacally. He cleaved a young woman's head with his axe, her brains spilling out. He then sliced open her chest and abdomen, grabbing and swallowing her still-warm organs.

"Delicious, tender, and juicy! Ha ha ha, what a thrill!"

More carnage ensued throughout the city. In just a few hours, before dawn, Brock's 2,000 men devastated the entire city. Thousands were killed or captured on the spot, and over a thousand more, disheveled and screaming, fled the raging inferno, including Mayor Bonn of Windermere, representatives of various guilds, and other wealthy individuals.

Escorted by twenty or thirty guards, they fled into the forest.