Many were pinned to the ground or bound with coarse ropes, forced to remain conscious and watch as their spouses were violated by the very men who had raided their fields.
They were made to endure the heart-wrenching, anguished cries of their wives as the strangers forced themselves upon them.
Which ended up becoming a form of psychological torture that began to break the spirit of the village as much as the physical violence broke their bodies.
While these heinous actions naturally garnered the deep-seated and simmering resentment of every surviving villager, Henry remained entirely unmoved by the suffering he had facilitated.
On the contrary, he was quietly pleased when he noticed the immediate change in the way his men addressed him as he moved through the encampment.
No longer were the ranks silent or indifferent toward his presence; instead, the soldiers were vocal in their admiration, offering him boisterous words of praise and saluting with newfound vigor whenever they saw him walk by.
To Henry, the screams of the villagers were a small price to pay for the absolute devotion of an army that now viewed him as a true leader.
"It's been a full day since we successfully took over this area and established our foothold," Henry remarked, his voice echoing slightly within the confines of the army's grand main tent.
He was currently seated at a heavy wooden table, the surface of which was covered by an expansive strategic battle map that detailed the surrounding viscounty in painstaking detail.
Across from him stood his primary army commander, Sir Godfrey, a man whose presence was as intimidating as it was mysterious.
Godfrey was clad in full, gleaming plate armor that allowed for no visibility of his facial features, though the craftsmanship of his suit was distinctively more grand and intricate than that of any other knight in the service.
Outside the tent, a handpicked squad of elite knights stood as a living wall of protection, ensuring their leaders remained undisturbed.
"I believe we should not linger here for much longer and should instead continue heading deeper into the heart of their viscounty," Henry continued, his finger sliding a small wooden marker representing their forces toward the center of the map. "While we still have the overwhelming advantage of surprise on our side, we must strike at the more significant hubs before the McClain lords can muster a proper defense and fortify their positions."
To Henry's slight surprise, Sir Godfrey did not immediately agree, instead slowly shaking his helmeted head in a gesture of disagreement.
"My lord, I must ask you to forgive my dissenting opinion, but I believe it would be far more beneficial for our long-term success to change our focus," the commander stated, his voice muffled but firm behind his visor.
"Rather than a deep thrust into unknown territory, I suggest we focus on systematically capturing the string of villages and towns located along the border." He leaned forward, tapping several pieces at the edge of the map that represented the smaller, more isolated settlements within the McClain viscounty.
"Such places will be far less guarded than the interior strongholds, and their defenses will be practically nonexistent compared to what we would face further inland," Sir Godfrey continued, explaining his logic as if he were a veteran strategist.
"If we were to progress toward the heart of the land too quickly, the security would definitely get tighter with every mile, and we would find ourselves wasting far more resources and men than if we were to secure these border territories first. Moreover, there is a secondary benefit to this approach that we cannot overlook."
Henry raised an eyebrow, motioning for the knight to proceed. "By capturing and occupying these villages one by one, we create a series of defensive buffers," Sir Godfrey explained.
"In the event of a sudden retaliation from the McClain main host, we could hold the entire civilian population hostage. This would effectively slow their advance and force their commanders into a diplomatic or tactical stalemate, giving us the time we need to reinforce our positions or call for reinforcements from lord Viscount himself."
Henry remained silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the map as he pondered the man's words and the supposed benefits of the proposed plan.
He had to give the commander a great deal of credit; the man truly was the real deal, possessing the ability to figure out such a complex strategic shift so quickly.
Henry was particularly impressed by Godfrey's willingness to contradict his original plan whilst not showing an ounce of arrogance at his own experience; not many soldiers in his position would have the courage to displease their superior with such a direct counter-proposal.
It made Henry realize just how valuable a piece Godfrey was on his chessboard, and a sense of satisfaction filled him at the thought of having such a competent mind at his beck and call.
"Commander!"
"Commander, please, you must come quickly!!!"
The tranquil, strategic atmosphere within the tent was suddenly shattered by the sound of high-pitched, frightened screaming coming from just beyond the canvas walls.
The voices were filled with a level of panic that suggested something far worse than a simple camp dispute or a disgruntled prisoner.
Both Henry and Sir Godfrey's expressions turned solemn in an instant, the air in the tent suddenly feeling charged with an unexplained tension.
Without a second thought or a word between them, the two men stepped through the tent flaps and out into the open air of the village square to discover the source of the commotion.
"G-Good lord... what in the name of the heavens is that?" Godfrey gasped, his usual composure failing him as he cursed at the sight that greeted them.
Within the outskirts of the village, and stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction, was a swirling wall of pitch-black fog that was thicker and more opaque than anything the commander could have imagined in his worst nightmares.
It wasn't merely a mist; it was a dense, rolling mass of darkness that seemed to consume the light itself as it advanced toward the encampment.
Not only that, but the very sky above them had undergone an instantaneous and terrifying transformation, turning a sickly, bruised shade of grey.
Dark, heavy clouds had blotted out the sun entirely, reducing the visibility to a twilight gloom that felt unnatural and suffocating.
In a single, heart-stopping moment, it was as if the entire geographical area had undergone an instant transformation into a realm of darkness.
The familiar sights of the village were being swallowed by the encroaching blackness, and a profound, chilling cold began to seep into the bones of every soldier present.
It was a phenomenon for which none of them had been prepared, and as the first tendrils of
the black fog began to creep closer towards the village, a sense of impending doom settled over the Montgomery army.
