The Ironborn shouted arrogantly across the fields, using the foulest language to mock the people who lived on this land and its lord.
"Ha ha ha! Look at those farmers! They're more cowardly than sheep!"
"All they know how to do is farm and run! They don't even have the guts to look at us!"
"What Black Lion? Looks more like a sick cat to me! And his people are just the same!"
Amek laughed along with them, but as he did, something suddenly felt wrong. His gaze fell on the things the farmers had left by the edges of the fields.
He had a growing sense that something was off. An inexplicable chill crawled up Amek's spine.
The things scattered across the fields weren't hoes, sickles, or any other farming tools. They were neatly stacked suits of armor and weapons: rough leather armor, cloth armor studded with pieces of wood, and even several suits of chain mail that gleamed faintly in the sunlight.
When he looked up again, sure enough, figures were gradually appearing along the distant field ridges and at the edge of the woods. There were men and women, standing far away, neither approaching nor leaving, as if they were watching a play that had something to do with them.
The Ironborn were still mocking them as cowards who had come to watch the spectacle, but Amek's heart was beating faster and faster. To his horror, he saw those strange spectators standing in the distance calmly putting on the armor that had been left by the fields, piece by piece.
Why did he feel...?
A thought that nearly stopped his heart exploded in Amek's mind. These people weren't here to watch! They were counting their numbers!
"Kill them!!!" Roars and curses erupted from every direction, cutting off