Ch. 149 That is a full 1,500 people!

“What should we do? What do you think we can do?” the knight asked back in despair.

That is a full 1,500 people!

By comparison.

No, there is no need to compare; this number already exceeds the number of professional troops owned by this small kingdom.

And this small village, with a population of no more than 300, only has twenty-something Soldiers.

The Anglo-Saxon army is not something the Celtic army can compare to.

Even though the Anglo-Saxons have already occupied the fertile lands of southern Britain.

But these barbarians, who only arrived here from Northern Europe a dozen years ago, have never lost their passion for raiding.

Some Anglo-Saxon villages don’t even have much arable land! For them, the autumn harvest is synonymous with going out to raid.

But the Britons are different. The Britons have never had the custom of raiding others, and unlike the Anglo-Saxons who believe in Odin and Valhalla, they don’t have ancestral armor and weapons in almost every household.

When war comes, the Anglo-Saxons can quickly conscript a large, well-equipped, and brave army from among their subjects.

As for the Britons, the only ones capable of matching them are the scarce, full-time professional troops, and the conscripts pulled from farmers who have no idea how to fight.

It could even be said that in the south, the Anglo-Saxons led by Vortigern are even more united than the Britons, who are now divided into seven small kingdoms.

“How long until they are here?” the knight asked.

“At most two days. They have already raided one village, and no one survived!”

“Two days!?” the knight exclaimed.

In two days, after conveying this news to the King, there is absolutely no time to assemble conscripts.

The sudden attack by the Anglo-Saxons this time is perhaps with the determination to completely conquer this country.

So, what can this village, standing before the sturdy shields and sharp swords of the Anglo-Saxons, do?

There are only twenty trained Soldiers, the village is only surrounded by wooden walls, and the only relatively sturdy thing is the earth fort that belongs to the knight himself, located in a corner of the village.

“We must leave here!”

This village absolutely cannot be defended.

The knight was not avoiding battle.

He was just not stupid enough to waste his own life and the lives of his men in a battle that could never be won.

If he were following his King, charging at the Anglo-Saxons on the battlefield, he would be the first.

But a 1,500-man army, in front of this village, could kick down the village walls even if each Soldier just kicked it once.

“Assemble the Guards, I want to make a speech.” The knight said, clenching his fists.

He took a deep breath, and after making up his mind, he stood up.

“Before that, bring me my armor!”

After that horn sounded, people didn’t actually feel much panic.

Not everyone saw those few Anglo-Saxon cavalrymen standing on the edge of the field.

Although that deep horn blast, which signified that war was imminent, would not and could not lie.

A Soldier who blew the horn without cause when there was no emergency would be sentenced to hanging.

And the galloping scout was the second piece of evidence for this bad news.

But people didn’t know when the Anglo-Saxons would come, or how many would come.

They believed in the sturdy outer walls of the village.

Not all villages have the financial resources to build such defensive facilities.

Since they were the minority, the people in the village had the arrogance of the minority, thinking that this village could block the attack of the Raiders.

“If you ask me, no matter how many of them come, we can drive them back.” In the tavern, most people remained optimistic.

“Those cavalrymen were scared off by our walls!” someone who saw the Anglo-Saxon cavalry said with a smile.

“What if those were just scouts?” the few sober ones proposed this conjecture.

“So what?” a young man said: “I’m not afraid of those bandits; I know how to use a sword.”

Other patriots chimed in.

“Are we leaving here?”

Melina noticed the changes in the village, and after returning to the inn, she asked Mia.

“I’m not sure,” Mia replied.

The things they knew were definitely no more than the villagers.

It’s possible that it’s just a group of Anglo-Saxons, not many in number, like the Raider party they encountered in the wilderness before.

Standing on the second floor of the tavern, looking at the distant horizon, she felt a bit hesitant.

The village gate had already been closed, and everyone who was outside the village had entered.

It wasn’t clear if it was an overreaction.

Perhaps such an attitude was actually somewhat reasonable.

Only in front of Mia, Artoria, Kay, and Wilden did those Anglo-Saxons appear vulnerable.

But for the ordinary people of Britain.

The story of a ship, a dozen or so Anglo-Saxon Raiders slaughtering a village, was not a legend.

An officer under a knight walked into the tavern.

This was where most of the young and middle-aged men gathered.

“We need some help,” he said loudly: “Is there anyone who can help us maintain order?”

People looked at him.

“Are the Anglo-Saxons coming?” someone who was still holding a wine glass shouted.

“That is exactly right!” the officer answered, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“We need some capable men who have never committed a crime…”

“To fight them!” the people in the tavern cheered.

They seemed to have already seen the scene of the men in the village holding weapons, standing on the city walls, together repelling the Anglo-Saxon invasion.

They protect their own land, gaining victory under the protection of the Goddess of Britannia, and of course, the Lord.

The officer’s voice coldly shattered their fantasy.

“No, it’s to ensure your neighbors don’t cause trouble while packing up. We must hurry and leave here.”

“What do you mean by that?” someone slammed their cup onto the table and asked indignantly.

“This is the order of Sir Egde!” The officer raised his voice, facing those who were clearly unwilling to obey.

“We must leave our homes, folks. Only by going to the city is there a chance to escape this disaster.”

“Is that really what Sir Egde said?” People looked at each other in dismay.

The good reputation the knight held among his people made it difficult for everyone to accept.

To flee, to abandon their homeland—could that really be an order that knight would give?

“Yes,” the officer nodded. “It is the order given by Sir Egde.”

The air in the tavern fell silent for a moment.

In ordinary times.

Even moving house would be a monumental event.

And for these people, most of whom were born as farmers, a house might be the greatest inheritance left to them by their ancestors.

Everyone knew what would happen if that group of barbarians, who only knew how to destroy and plunder, occupied this place.

“Damn it!” Someone slammed the table hard, the loud noise clearly audible even in the courtyard outside the tavern. “Are we really to abandon our homes, our land, and hand it over to the Anglo-Saxons?”

“We must resist!”

“That’s right!” The men whispered to each other, and within a few breaths, the discussion turned into loud shouting.

“We’ll stay right here!” Someone yelled at the officer. “You lot of soldiers, and the lord, and whatever other messy folks there are, leave if you want! The Anglo-Saxons can’t drive us off our land!”

Clang— The officer drew his sword. With a thud, he plunged it into the ground.

“Enough! The Anglo-Saxons have fifteen hundred men. If you think you can deal with them, then go ahead!”

He stared at the heckling crowd before him with eyes hidden in anger.

The farmers, who had just been clamoring for a fight, couldn’t say a word.

“How many?” an old man with a graying beard asked tremblingly.

“Fifteen hundred,” the officer replied. “And,”

“I grew up with you all in this village; I am just like you. And as an officer, I am even less willing than any of you to leave the land I am supposed to protect!”

“But this is for your own good, because this is the only way to save everyone. Sir Egde must report this bad news to the King. Only when we join forces with the King and gather all our strength in one place will we have a chance to strike back.”

The officer scanned the crowd, over and over again.

People looked at him, listening intently to what he had to say.

“Do you understand?” the officer asked.

Not many people replied, but no one talked back anymore.

“Very well. Is anyone willing to volunteer to help the bailiffs maintain order? Those willing need only report to the barracks to receive a reward.”

The officer had finally returned to the original topic.

“I will.” A muffled voice sounded, and a man raised his hand.