But the refugees outside kept multiplying. There had to be several thousand of them, all dressed in rags, their faces sallow and their bodies gaunt. It was impossible even to tell men from women. They were so thin that every scrap of fat was gone, leaving nothing but bones.
From a distance, they looked like malicious ghosts crawling out of Hell as they staggered toward the manor.
Everyone in the manor felt a chill at the sight. The Refugees appeared to have no weapons, apart from the odd wooden club.
But there were too many of them. They surrounded the entire manor like a flood, and that alone was enough to terrify the people inside.
After all, the manor had no more than two hundred defenders. They were strong, carried steel blades, and had dozens of bows, but none had ever faced a real battle. The sheer number of Refugees put them under crushing pressure.
Worse still, beneath the numbness in the refugees' eyes lurked madness. The way they stared straight at the manor sent a chill down every estate guard's spine.
"There's food in that manor! Break through, and we can get inside! We won't starve to death!" someone shouted from the crowd.
The Refugees, who could barely walk without swaying, suddenly had light in their eyes. All at once, they fixed their gazes on the manor, every one of them wild.
"Charge! Break into the manor! Take the food!" At that shout, the Refugees rushed straight at it like people possessed.
They jumped directly into the ditch. Some landed in the water and drowned, but even more kept charging across.
It was only a manor's ditch, barely deeper than a man was tall. Ordinarily, that would have been enough. Against these frenzied Refugees, though, the ditch was almost