When he passed, they would look after him in confusion, and so began the murmurings, as people vaguely recognized the former digger boy, wondering why he had such a fine sword at his hip.
They'd built a small wooden platform in the centre of the village to receive the Captain and his army on. On that platform there was a table laden with food and ceremonial gifts of weapons and water.
At the table, Greeves was sat with Judas standing behind him. Both were dressed better than Beam had ever seen them. Greeves had a green velvet coat over his shoulder and fancy shin high leather boots over his legs. His hair was oiled back and his beard was trimmed.
As for Judas, he'd also combed what little hair remained on his balding head, and he'd put on some of his cleaner clothes. He had a large axe sheathed at his belt rather than his usual baton, making him look quite the fearsome bodyguard indeed.
At the table, sat with Greeves was also the village smith, who was deemed of equal status because of his skill, and the relevance of it in hosting an army.
More murmurings went through the crowd as Beam stepped up on the wooden platform to join them. Greeves broke out into a smile upon seeing him, his tense expression fading for just a second.
"Haha! There you are, lad. Good to see you. Tell you what, I ain't half pleased you came. I've been worrying all morning that this bastard noble is just gonna cut me down where I stand 'cos it doesn't like the look of me. But now I'm figuring with both you and Judas guarding me, the chances of escape are a little higher, eh?" He said.
The smith raised an eyebrow in distaste as he heard Greeves talk, but he nodded to Beam anyway. The two had met briefly as part of the ore gathering quest that Beam had been forced to take part in.
"I see you're already planning your escape," Beam noted. There were three seats at the table where Greeves and the smith were seated. He could only guess that the third was for the village Elder, who as of yet was nowhere to be seen.
"Wait... Is that goblin blood on your shirt, boy?" Greeves noted in alarm.
Beam lifted up his arm to look where Greeves was pointing. "Oh, so it is."
"Thanks," Beam said, snatching it out the air, before tearing his shirt off and forcing this one on. There were a few whistles that managed to make it through the noise of the crowd as a couple of people caught a glimpse of him changing.
"Myyy, you're going to make my heart stop changing like that in front of me," Loriel teased. "Here, give me that old shirt. I'll take care of it."
"SOLDIERS APPROACHING!" A shout through the crowd went out again, and people started to quiet down for good this time.
Greeves motioned quickly with his head to Beam, who moved to stand behind him beside Judas. Side by side, the two looked rather ridiculous, with Beam being that much smaller than the giant man. But with the stern look on his face and the white scars on his cheeks, he still very much looked the part of a guard.
As the crowd quietened, the sounds of the approaching army replaced it.
Slow and steady rhythmic marching. A hundred feet landing together at once. It was a powerful sensation. Beam felt a brief chill listening to it, feeling its power. A hundred men, moving as one, unified into a single entity with a single purpose – it was an overbearing thought indeed.
It was only then that the village Elder deemed it appropriate to make his entrance. He briefly shuffled on stage. He noted Beam with irritation, before ignoring him and taking his seat in the middle of Greeves and the smith. His attendant – Beam wasn't sure if it was One or Two - stood behind him, on Beam's right shoulder.
Beam glanced at her briefly, before turning his direction back towards the front and the approaching army.
The crowd that had been previously encircling the entirety of the wooden platform quickly shifted, clearing the road and the path towards the platform.
The soldiers rounded the final bend in the road, and finally they were revealed.
Beam noted the spears at first, as they came into view. Deadly thing, twice the size of a man. Then he looked at the men that wielded them. Stern faced men, all in lockstep with each other. Rounded steel helmets sat on their heads and shirts of chainmail fell all the way to the top of their thighs, held in place by a belt.