The only living people left on the battlefield were Sauer, Jakob, and Bösch. The corpses of two dozen soldiers and civilians littered the ground, their hands grasping at their necks, while only two Beans seemed to be truly dead. Sauer avoided the Beans moving towards him as he ran to the stables. Bösch and Jakob had begun to slow down, exhausted from the continuous fighting. Though Bösch had sweat pouring down his face and Jakob was gasping heavily, they did not give up.

Sauer slowed. He glanced between Bösch, Jakob, and the open route to the stables. Should he help them? Could he help them? The bodies of soldiers much more capable than he lay dead on the battlefield, the remains of many more scattered throughout Dijon by the massive Bean creature. If they did not have a chance against the Beans, then what chance did he have? Even Bösch, the most competent soldier in Dijon, was unable to fend off the Beans for a considerable amount of time.

What chance would Sauer have?

He would have none.

He gritted his teeth and continued running towards the stables.

In the distance, four soldiers on horseback approached, holding farm equipment in front of them as improvised spears. Schmidt led them, riding a pure white stallion, screaming. Not the confident scream of a soldier prepared for battle, but that of a scared child.

Sauer slowed, watching the scene with a sense of confused awe. He knew their plan was insane, and, by the looks on their faces, they knew so too. Yet they returned to help Bösch and Jakob.

The four horsemen rode towards the two soldiers, running over Beans in their path as they avoided the Empire tents. Sauer watched from a distance as Bösch and Jakob stopped fighting, jumping out of the way as the horses trampled the Beans.

And then, Sauer heard whistling.

He turned towards Dijon, seeing a cloud of white beans three meters across dotting the sky. He had a feeling the massive Bean creature would not miss this time. “Run!” Sauer shouted as Bösch jumped onto the horse with Schmidt. “Get out of the way!” Jakob jumped onto another horse, the soldier riding it pulling back on the reins to turn around.

Three of the horsemen were able to make it out of the massive Bean creature’s final attack, the cloud of beans raining down on the earth as though it were a smite from God Himself.

Jakob’s horse whined as the rider pulled back on its reins, stopping in its tracks. As the beans fell to the earth, they shredded Jakob, the horse, and the soldier as though they were as fragile as paper. They did not even have time to scream.

The attack destroyed the corpses and remaining Beans just as mercilessly, leaving nothing but shredded, bloody grass and broken muskets littering the battlefield outside the eastern gate.

One of the horsemen picked up Sauer as they retreated towards the stables. As they rode, Sauer watched the remains of Dijon get farther and farther away, the massive Bean creature the new centerpiece of the town. He thought about his time there, the last few months of his life. He thought about Gladisch, sacrificing herself to save others, and Wagner, killed needlessly by the massive Bean creature as a result of his own cowardice. He thought about Schmidt, returning to battle, screaming like a child, Bösch, leading his men with no regard for his own safety, and Jakob, who died helping Bösch.

And then he thought about himself.

He took a deep breath and turned away from Dijon. What happened had happened. His colleagues, his friends, were dead, countless civilians and Empire soldiers slaughtered, Dijon destroyed, overtaken by the Beans.

But he was still alive, and he was going to try his best to stay that way.

The remaining soldiers stood outside the stables, holding farm equipment defensively in front of them. The surviving soldiers had little injuries; Rob’s injured arm was in an improvised sling, and fresh bruises and welts covered Bösch’s face and forearms.

The Bean reinforcements had already begun to follow the survivors, though there was still a few hundred meters between them. The massive Bean creature roared from within Dijon, then stood for a moment before turning back west.

The survivors regrouped, preparing for their journey back into friendly territory.

In total, only Sauer, Reist, Schmidt, Rob, Bösch, and twelve other soldiers and civilians remained of the more than one hundred people that had been at the improvised camp only four hours earlier. Only three horses were left alive, given to the injured and weakest survivors.

Bösch and Rob rode together on Bösch’s white horse. Two people rode on each of the other two horses, the rest of the survivors following on foot, half walking, half jogging. It was before midday, and they would be able to arrive in the French city of Besançon by nightfall.

They were silent as they retreated east, the only sound being the clopping of the horses’ hooves.

For once, Sauer was too tired to think.