The tax collector's voice echoed through the village three times, and the village chief's door was the first to be kicked open.
Su Li stood behind the blacksmith shop's courtyard wall, watching the commotion outside through a crack in the bricks.
The seven soldiers split into two groups. One followed the tax collector to the village chief's house to set an example, while the other began knocking on doors one household at a time.
Old Buck came out of the main house with his pipe clenched in one hand, his face as dark as iron.
"They're here again. We only paid last month—how many days has it even been?"
Martha followed behind him, both hands twisting in her apron, her voice trembling.
"Dear, we only have that little bit of flour left. If we hand it over again, we really won't have anything to eat."
Su Li walked over and lowered his voice.
"Uncle, when they come, don't step forward. I'll handle them."
Old Buck shot him a glare.
"You'll handle them? You're just some green kid from out of town. Who do they think you are?"
"Whether they recognize me or not, let's see what happens first."
Someone pounded on the courtyard gate.
"Open up! Grain requisition!"
Old Buck tucked his pipe into his belt and strode over to pull the gate open.
Two soldiers stood outside, one tall and one short. Their leather armor was spattered with mud, and each held a wooden club.
The taller one swept his gaze across the courtyard and sniffed.
"This house's chimney is still smoking. They must have grain stored away. Go in and search."
Old Buck blocked the entrance without giving way.
"This is a blacksmith shop. The chimney's smoking because we forge iron, not because we're cooking."
The shorter man