From the moment he stepped into the cold morning air, a sense of urgency overcame Malt.

It was as if a fire had started. The village folk scrambled about in a panic, their most prized possessions clutched close to their chests as they all congregated toward Nasir’s manor-turned-bunker. Fruits and other bits lay strewn across the pathway, no doubt disturbed by one of the many scrambling villagers. In the short time he’d been aboveground, he’d been bumped, or otherwise collided with nearly half a dozen people.

Those that caught onto the looming danger before the announcement had already taken the time to organize their belongings. The others weren't so lucky.

Through ajar doorways and propped windows, he could see children being dragged from their belongings, he witnessed the elderly harshly and hastily rushed from their rockers, parents having to abandon the homes they’d spent years making memories in. He’d witnessed many things on that short little walk, enough to fill him with a deep loathing of those who’d caused such turmoil.

Of course he understood that he and Nasir had a part in it as well.

From a few feet down the road, he could see a man standing literally atop the central well. He was obviously out of his element, eyes darting as he tried his best not to slip off the structure’s slanted roofing. Malt could make out Nasir’s robed figure beside the man, nonchalantly feeding the man a message whilst leaning on the well.

The man dared to lean a little closer to Nasir, nodding frantically as he took in his words. After a bit, the man forced himself as upright as he could, cupping both hands to his mouth.

“Only take what’s necessary! I repeat, only take what you absolutely need!” He took a moment to catch his breath, glancing at Nasir in confirmation. “Food and clothing, that’s all! After the hunters come to gather weapons, make a mess and lock your doors!”

Malt could hear furniture being thrown about as the man spoke. Hunters, easily identifiable by the adorned spears they held at their sides, rushed from door to door, rushing from the people’s homes carrying scythes, threshers, axes, anything that could be used as a weapon.

Shortly after the owners would come by and begin their deconstruction. Shelves were to be tipped against doorways, tables flipped and chairs thrown. Anything that could deter, or at least inconvenience any would be looters.

Although their expressions were reluctant, the villagers went about this action with unquestioning efficiency. If their harsh circumstances had given them anything, it was a stalwart determination to survive, no matter the cost. The forest, as well as centuries of mistreatment by humans had etched within them an unflinching pragmatism. They knew what had to be done in spite of the sacrifices.

As he approached the well, Nasir looked at him with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve given up on the whole ‘good boy’ act, huh?”

It was quite obvious what he was referring to.

Adorning his frame was an impressive amount of armor. Solid steel plate encased his chest, arms, and everything below his knees. The rest of his body sat laden with layers of gambeson and thick mail, stitched and riveted together in an effective, yet unsightly manner. He’d brought a helmet as well of course, a trusty old kettle with an accompanying coif, that hung from a tether at his waist.

All in all he was armored less like a soldier, and more like a tank. The inordinate amount of padding made him nearly impervious to blunt trauma. Nothing short of a direct, non-glancing hit from a hammer or polearm would be enough to seriously threaten him. Needless to say, cuts and hews had become a non-issue. Even the sharpest of blades became defunct, considering that there wasn’t a spot on his body not covered by at least a layer of mail atop gambeson, if not by solid steel.

Such imperviousness obviously gave him a massive advantage in combat, and it was all only possible because of his newfound strength. If he’d donned such a setup a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t be able to jog a dozen meters before tiring. As of now, he could move around as if he were only wearing a hauberk.

Malt glanced about before responding. Some of the village folk stole quick glances at the dull gleam of his figure, usually vacating the area with increased vigour. Some, mostly the children, looked at him with eyes of fear, and maybe even muddled animosity. Many of them had likely grown all too familiar with the sight of an armor clad human, after all. A majority of them simply went about their business though, maybe sparing a nod of interest before rushing off. By the looks of it, most had already noticed the ways in which he was different from the others. Village gossip was a scary thing.

Malt slowed to a halt before the grey, resting one hand on his helm and another on the messer hanging loosely by his side.

“I figure it’d probably be best to stay in armor from here until the attack ends.”

Another smirk.

“How are you going to relieve yourself?”

“...I’ll figure that out when the time comes.”

After that the two simply stood there and watched as the chaos unfolded around them. Malt felt an obligation to witness it all. This was a result of their plan after all.

It was highly likely that they were being watched at that very moment.

A select group of hunters under Nasir had been roaming about the forests with prey other than boar in mind. Throughout the past week alone they’d ambushed and struck down a dozen separate scouts among the underbrush.

Despite their best efforts, there was a good chance that a scouting network was already in place, and that their movements were being sent back to the bandit’s camp with relative accuracy.

As incompetent as the infantry/arrow fodder were, their higher ups were experienced military men. They were not to be taken light off, lest the consequences be catastrophic.

The message that the village was fortifying had in all likelihood already reached the enemy chain of command, but at this point it would be too late. Their main force should have already set off, and reorganizing would be a pointless endeavour as the same would happen all over again.

The idea was to present an opportunity to the naturally opportunistic aggressors. To bait them into attacking before they could fully congregate and solidify their forces. It was more preferable for both sides to come to the battlefield prematurely, as if the enemy had time to completely collect themselves, the village would stand no chance.

Nasir had deemed this to be the strategy with the highest likelihood of success, and Malt agreed for the most part.

There was no longer a use in contemplating whether the plan would work or not.

The matter had already been decided.

Now, all he could do was to await the reveal.

And so he watched, watched as his and Nasir’s decisions either doomed or saved the lives of those in front of him.

***

Night had already settled, and what a hectic one it was.

Everyone save a couple hunters, who were busy scouting the surrounding area, had already been crammed within Nasir’s walled sanctuary.

People were situated everywhere, whether it be sitting on the grass in the yard or against the interior of the perimeter wall. There was just enough space in between to allow some of the older kids, Nadia and Ana among them, to distribute bowls of steaming stew.

The ma’am and Jackie, along with a truly cracked team of mothers and grandmothers toiled away upon a makeshift kitchen atop the porch. A prodigious amount of meat and vegetables, as well as entire jars of seasoning were tossed into massive cauldrons that had served the purpose of laundry washing just hours prior.

Misha was busy tending to Kirk, along with practically every small child in the entire village. She’d been dumped with the responsibility, but didn’t seem bothered at all. From Malt’s angle, it was hard to believe that she herself was still very much a child.

It was all quite festive despite the dire circumstances at hand. Maybe it was because the anxiety and panic had calmed, or maybe it was because people were simply tired of the chaos for the time being. Whatever the reason, villagers spoke and laughed under the warm glow of lanterns that hung upon the ropes overhead. It was very much a ‘calm before the storm’ sort of situation.

Malt trudged over to a far, dark corner and let the weight of himself and his armor down onto the porch’s edge with a creak. He undid the leather holding his messer and placed the thing down, but still within arm’s reach.

Then, for the first time in a while, he let out a long, exasperated sigh into the cool night sky. He let the banter of the villagers drown into the background, mixing with the chirping of grasshoppers nearby. It’d been a hectic day indeed.

The silence was gone as soon as it had started.

Niko and Ana, accompanied by Nadia and Mari, sauntered over in a group. Nadia smirked at him as they approached, though there was a hint of concern in her eye.

“You look horrible.”

A dishevelled smile appeared on Malt’s face as he leaned back onto his palms.

“I suppose I’m a little worse for wear.”

They all crammed in to sit beside him on the porch, bowls in hand. Mari eyed the messer, irked. She tipped it over and onto the grass with a thud before taking its place. Niko passed him one of the two in his hands, and Malt graciously accepted.

As they exchanged banter and largely useless conversation, he got the feeling that they had many questions about his getup, and for good reason. Despite this, they seemed to be letting off in light of his fatigue.

Jokes were exchanged as they traded comfortable banter. They of course also took part in the mandatory ‘make fun of Ana and Niko, but mostly Niko’ portion of the night, much to the former’s silent amusement.

It was a pleasant night, one that he’d likely look back on in times of strife. Yet there was still obviously something gnawing at him, and at everyone.

Tomorrow would be the final day for an uncertain amount of those present, and it was as if they were trying to make up for this fact.