It was difficult to go against the natural order like that. Difficult to overturn the norms of society. Soldiers fought, and villagers farmed. That was the way it was. But in times without soldiers in the village, when the goblins came, or the mountain beasts wandered too close, it was the men that fought, for there was no one else.
They needed to be reminded of that. They needed something to startle them out of their fear, their acceptance of death. They needed the slightest bit of momentum to push them in the right direction. The honest words of a young girl managed that, to some degree.
"…But if they're so strong, why are we losing?" One man asked. It was only natural. Not all men were fighters. Not all of them could summon up the aggression needed to slay a man.
His question was a valid one. It hung in the air like a foul smell. The others that had begun to speak up eagerly and boastfully suddenly went quiet, as the magnitude of the threat in front of them was once again reinstated. The possibility of victory was their primary concern.
"They haven't lost yet," Nila said. "Did you not hear them shout? Just because there's smoke doesn't mean it's over. And since you all were saying that you could take a Yarmdon down with you, how about I take down five? Actually, ten, since I'm that much stronger than you."
She grinned ruefully, sticking her tongue out at them. Their anger exploded all at once. It was the hunters especially, those that had already been building up a resentment towards Nila for her recent antics over the past weeks.
"You're too full of yourself, girl! You can barely draw that bow of yours!" Came one shout.
Half of the other men were on their feet at that, shouting at each other and shouting at her. She watched them all, unable to keep the smile off her face. She was hit by a sudden realization: humans really were simple creatures.
Even in their darkest moments, drowned out by impossible despair, and the crushing weight of an impossible fear, they could still find it in themselves to give way to rage, or even laughter.
'So that's what a good leader does…' She realized. He guided the emotions of his men, so that they could display their truest strength. That was where morale came from. She realized too that she didn't have it in her to perform such a task. She couldn't lead a party of people. The most she could do was talk to individuals.
In the end, all the villagers had needed was a little push, something to stir the pot. They'd been ready to take care of the rest of that themselves.
"Aren't you lot riled up?" Came a sudden voice. The angry murmurings of the crowd died down as they turned to look at him. Greeves and his group of prostitutes ran along beside him.
There was blood on that woman's hands, Nila noted. That woman who always wore a perfect smile. She wasn't smiling now though.
Greeves too, who always wore an aura of confidence, he looked haggard and weak. There was a sword in his hands, and blood on his clothes. Nila did not know it, but the man had overcome a Yarmdon to reach them, even if it had been a surprise attack.
"Is it battle that you're looking for? Is it? Why haven't you been on the front lines already? This is why the nobility treat you like dogs. You can't get moving until someone cracks you with the whip. Well, rejoice.
I'll whip the lot of you. I have a dog of my own on that front line, by the name of Judas, I'm thinking it's time to snatch him back," Greeves said.
Angry barks came his way.
"Piss off, merchant! This is no fight of yours."
"I would have thought you'd be half the country away by now, cowardly as you are."
Greeves held up his hand to quiet them. "Don't misunderstand. You lot mean nothing to me. Fight, don't fight. You're dogs to the very end. Stand here and weep, as the Yarmdon butcher your children, and rape your women."
He spared a glance at Nila. "I'll wager that the only reason you're showing the slightest bit of fight is because this girl goaded you into it. That's the difference between you and me. And I'm a dog all the way through, just like the rest of you. But I'm a dog that spits on the Gods, and their fate, the impossible odds that they thrust against us.
Doubt it if you like, I'm going to fight these Yarmdon whores, even as you cower in fear."
Nila raised her eyebrows in shock. Every word that Greeves uttered was dripping with venom. There was pure malevolence steaming from his tongue. His eyes were haunted by darkness. The more he spoke, the more a dark rage projected out from him. When he said to the villagers that they meant nothing to him, she truly believed it.
"You'll fight?" Judas' man from earlier spoke up. He'd worked with Greeves for a long time now. He was more surprised than the rest of them. He would have thought that Greeves was the last person to fight on the frontlines. "Why bother?"
It was a question echoed in the eyes of the rest of the villagers, even as they looked at Greeves with hatred, pure loathing. The prostitutes behind him cowered under their glares. Only Loriel stood tall. Nila didn't understand those people, and their darkness.
"Why? Because I'm a damned good merchant, that's why. I know shit all about warfare, but I feel the flow of value. That boy, his worth is only going to increase. I'm not letting an investment of that size die so early. I'll fight, because I don't believe we'll lose."
The man paused a moment. "…You payin'?"
"Aye," Greeves said, without pause.
"Then I'll fight with ya," he said. The cruel and the criminal, they had their own kind of respect. Greeves was the darkest of them, who'd risen up high enough, that he could walk freely in the light of the normal world. They admired that. They trusted his competence. The man was crueller and more cunning than any of them.
They believed in that cruelty more than they believed in pretty words and nice-sounding sentiments.
The man rose up, and with him, six other men followed. Six dangerous men. They'd been waiting in the wings, as chaos descended upon the village, and they'd delighted in it. They'd sat in wait for a fitting opportunity, a juicy amount of meat to dig their teeth into. It was not what they'd expected, but they'd been thrown meat anyway, and they dove on it happily.