When a voice called out to him, Beam had to glare hard into the shadows to see where it came from. After a moment, his eyes adjusted, and he noted a particularly big shadow.
"Oy! Beam! Over here!"
Beam moved towards them. Sat on a bundle of barrels, there was Judas, waiting, with chainmail over his chest as though he had been wearing it his whole life. There were five soldiers with him – the squadron that Lombard had promised.
The men seemed clearly comfortable with each other. From the way that Judas was lounging about, he too felt comfortable amongst them. That ability of Judas' to seemingly get on with any man was something that Beam marvelled at.
The men straightened a little as Beam approached. The large majority of the soldiers treated him with respect now, some even feared him. All knew of the feats of the Mountain Slayer, even if they looked down upon the peasantry.
"I see you've got yourself some equipment," Beam said, nodding at Judas' chainmail, and the sword at his hip.
"He's been on the field as much as any of us, so I figured I ought to get him kitted out. What good's an oxen like him if he gets taken out on the first slash, after all," a soldier said in reply. Beam recognized his face, but he didn't know his name.
"We've been told to listen to you today," another man spoke up. Beam recognized him as a sergeant from the red patch on his arm. "Are we set to go?"
They were clearly eyeing Beam's appearance, covered in filth as he was. The question seemed to contain another. 'Do you want us to wait until you clean up first?'
"Beam..." she murmured. It had been a while since they'd spoken. The quiet boy that had finally spoken to her properly nearly a month ago had gone through some dramatic changes. Once, he lost himself in obscurity, and now he seemed to be at the centre of every major happening. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"It's just mud," Beam reassured her. "Where is everyone?"
"And blood, from the looks of it," she said. "They have you fighting..." She didn't hide the discontent on her face as she glanced at the soldiers. Clearly, she seemed to think that they were forcing him to fight. That they were using him as one might a slave.
The soldiers looked away uncomfortably, but none of them tried to explain themselves. Even if it was a peasant, an old woman's look of condemnation was universal. They did feel ashamed of themselves, to a degree, to be outdone by a boy, and to be relying so thoroughly on a boy. But the thing was, in their defence, he was no ordinary boy.
They would have said as much, but without a picture to describe just what they meant, they would have only been digging their hole further.
"Everyone is on edge. So many children have gone missing. It's a terrible thing. Everyone's angry. No one trusts anyone. People have raided each other's houses, calling them suspicious.
They've all been at each other's throats," the old woman explained.
"Has anyone been hurt?" Beam asked. He'd heard that Nila was at the centre of the villagers, that she was inspiring their information gathering. Though it worried him to hear that the villagers had forced their way inside each other's houses, he found it hard to see that as a particularly bad thing – at least from his perspective. It merely served to narrow down options.
The old lady shook her head. "No... Nila's been fighting to keep everyone under control. But they're gathered now, outside the Elder's house. They're calling for him, since he's yet to answer. Those who've had their children taken by him, they're leading the rest of them... What about you, Beam? What are you going to do?"