NOVEL NEXT Chapter 199 "History repeats itself even in this world."
199 "History repeats itself even in this world."
From atop his horse, Henry scanned the desperate faces of the villagers before him. Unlike the villages in Stahl or even Aritreia, this one held no young men, only frightened women and elders, clutching poorly made farming tools. Their hands trembled as they faced the armed troops that appeared in the middle of their village.
"Get off our land!" an elderly man shouted, his voice rough but frail. His skin was dry and cracked like sun-scorched, dry earth, and his thin arms shook as he raised a rusty sickle - "I may be old, but I will be sure to take down at least one of you if you try to attack us."
Leier, riding beside Henry, glanced at the old man. Her hand hovered near her short swords for a moment, but she didn't reach for them. "What are your orders, my liege?" she asked, her blue eye steady as she looked up at Henry, who sat tall and still, like an unmovable ancient mountain.
Henry didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the villagers, who were like cornered, desperate and trembling lams, afraid to meet the bad wolf's eyes - "What happened here?" - he asked, his voice calm but demanding respect - "Where are all the able-bodied men?" It was unusual for no young men or warriors to have emerged, given how easily he and his troops had entered the village. He faced no resistance, unlike what he expected.
The old man's eyes shifted nervously between Henry and the cavalry behind him. The Snowfire horses, with their fur as dark as dried blood, stood perfectly still as their red eyes gazed at back at him, eagerly awaiting to stomp them. The old man's grip tightened on his sickle, but he looked back at the frightened faces behind him and realized he had no choice but to answer. "The king's troops came through days ago," he said, his voice trembling. "They took every man over twelve, said they were needed for the fight up north. Took all our food too, left us with nothing. There's nothing left for you to take. Please… leave us in peace." Silence hung heavy in the cold air. Henry's eyes swept over the villagers, old men, women, and children clutching their crude farming tools, taken in desperation to be used as a weapon. Despite their fear, there was a hint of resolve in their eyes, an instinctual courage born out of desperation, like cornered rats ready to bite back.
"You have nothing to fear," Henry said, sensing the fear in their eyes and trying to reassure them "We are not here to pillage. We don't need your food. I prefer to travel light." He nudged his horse forward, closing the distance between him and the old man. "And even if we did, what could you do? With nothing but women, children, and old bones to defend this place?"
The horse's breath puffed in the cold air of the northern kingdoms, and the old man instinctively took a step back. The villagers followed suit, retreating as they gripped their tools tighter, their faces pale.
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Henry leaned forward slightly. "You can't stop us," he said, his tone dropping, "but you don't need to. You are now under my rule. I do not harm those who submit. So…" - he locked eyes with the old man - "I will give you one chance…drop your weapons and step aside. We only wish to pass."
The old man hesitated, his eyes searching Henry's for any hint of lies or deceptions. But he knew he had no choice. Behind him were only the vulnerable, women, children, and elders. His hand shook as he let the rusty sickle drop to the ground, the noise echoing through the village, like a thunder breaking the silence.
He turned to the villagers, his voice heavy. "Everyone, drop your weapons and step aside!" There was a pause as the people exchanged fearful glances. Slowly, one person dropped their weapon, then another, until the entire group followed suit, stepping back and clearing a path for Henry's cavalry.
"Good," Henry said, his voice calm as he watched them. Many of the villagers kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact, while a few clung to each other, whispering prayers. They were afraid to see a blade falling towards their necks and forcing them to meet their ancestors. The only one who continued to look at him was the old man, his eyes wary and ready to courageously meet his end, if it needed.
"Is there any noble household in this village?" Henry asked, not minding them or giving orders to kill.
The old man shook his head. "No, not anymore. The king's army took them to, everyone, even the children and women."
Henry nodded, understanding. It was a common strategy for rulers to take hostages, a tactic to keep nobles loyal and ensure their cooperation. "A common move," Henry thought as he looked to the gray skies. "History repeats itself even in this world."
It was quite a common thing for rulers to take hostages in order to ensure the loyalty of nobles and their willingness to fight. This tactic was more common in medieval and early modern periods when central authority was limited and kings needed to be reassured, applying pressure and control over the nobles.
In Ancient China, during the warring states period, the chinese rulers often used hostages to secure alliances or ensure the loyalty of nobles and vassal states. The children or close relatives of nobles were taken to the royal court to guarantee their cooperation. If a noble rebelled or failed to fulfill their military obligations, their family members could face death. It was the same for feudal Europe, the Mongol Empire and the France of Louis XI. The practice of taking hostages to ensure that the nobles were going to willingly cooperate was used.
Without another thought, Henry nudged his horse forward, signaling for the troops to advance. The villagers trembled as the horse's hoofs hit the ground. The sound seemed to be like the horn's of hell calling them all, announcing their deaths. However, this sound kept distancing itself, until it finally disappeared and they finally had the courage to open their eyes and look around. They survived. Not a single drop of blood was spilled.