"What a lavish display." The officer strode over. "The soldiers at the front are starving as they risk their lives, while you lot hide out in the village eating fine white flour. With food like this, you won't find a second household like yours in the entire village."
Old Buck stepped in front of the flour sacks.
"Sir, the children brought this back from far away outside." Old Buck spoke carefully. "Usually, we eat bran mixed with sand at home."
The officer shoved Old Buck aside.
"Cut the bullshit. Any supplies of unknown origin will be confiscated under the charge of collaborating with the enemy." The officer waved a hand. "Take those three sacks of flour and that half-rack of ribs—all of it. And the horses by the door too. Lead them straight back to camp!"
Two soldiers strode forward and reached for the ropes binding the flour sacks.
The cloth curtain to the kitchen was lifted.
Saina emerged wearing an apron speckled with oil. In her right hand, she held upside down the thick-backed cleaver she had just used to chop ribs, and she strode toward the center of the courtyard.
"Where did this pack of dogs come from?" Saina stepped directly in front of the soldiers. "Blind enough to come into my courtyard and snatch away my livelihood."
The officer looked at the village woman in an apron and immediately began cursing.
"You filthy commoner, courting death!" The officer took a step forward, his large hand covered in black hair reaching straight for Saina's collar.
Saina did not even raise her cleaver.
She simply extended her left hand and grabbed his incoming palm. The utterly terrifying brute strength of a fourth-tier knight erupted through her finger bones.
Saina's palm clamped with absolute precision around the rusty iron helmet