Part III: Battle of Burgundian
It was three hours past midnight when Brayden returned. All the men were asleep, save Albert.
"How many men?" Albert cried out gruffly.
Brayden was startled. He had not noticed his captain, standing attentively by his tent. "I estimate forty, but more likely less."
Albert nodded gruffly. "We will attack now."
"Now? This early? The men still snore, and I am exhausted."
"It is the only way we can make up for our inferior numbers. Grab a few pails of cold water. Wake the others."
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Several buckets of cold water and many anguished, startled cries later, all the men stood awake before Albert. Most were groggy, all were wet.
"There are about forty men in the village. We will attack now. Grab your clubs. Also grab a few torches."
No one questioned Albert.
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"What's that noise?" Clovis arose from his bed. His wife lay besides him, his children in another room.
His wife, Clotilda, awoke. "Go back to sleep. I am tired, you are hearing things." She rolled onto her side.
Clovis was not sure. Quickly, he grabbed his ax. "I will be back, Clotilda." He was whispering, so as not to wake the children.
As quietly as possible, he darted outside when- THWACK- a dull weapon hit his head. He was out cold before he touched the ground.
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Brayden lifted his club. An unconscious body lay before him. He nimbly stepped over the body and reported to his captain.
"I found a man who heard us and had stepped out of his hut. I knocked him out."
"Did you leave the body there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fool! If one of the guards discovers it, they could raise the alarm! Go hide the body!"
Brayden was sneaking back to the body when suddenly- BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Loud animal-hide drums began beating. The sound of war. The village had been alerted.
I am an idiot!
"Set the huts on fire, burn the huts!" Albert was screaming commands. Already, men were streaming out of huts, battling the English invaders.
Suddenly, Brayden saw a man charge at him. Lifting his club, Brayden parried his blow, and then knocked his assailant on the head. The blow was fatal.
Meanwhile, Albert was fighting off his own men. Men with torches were burning down huts. The smoke and the fire confused the defenders. Some men were already on fire by the time they came out of their huts. Women and children were crying, running out of huts into the main square.
As the dust settled, the English tribe members had emerged victorious. Almost the entire Burgundian force had been destroyed. The remaining townspeople stood in the center of the village. Huts were burning.
Suddenly, a very large BANG was heard. Glass and wood flew everywhere,
Breyden cursed. He had forgotten about the storage house.
The alcohol must have just gone up in flames.
He reported this to Albert.
He was incensed. "WHAT?!That could have been worth a million pounds of gold!"
"Indeed. I suppose it is too late."
The captain sighed. "Very well. No use crying over exploded alcohol. Go ask the villagers if they know anything about the production of this drink."
After about two hours of pantomiming, Breyden told Albert the message of the villagers.
"There were three men who knew how to produce the alcohol. All three are dead. They were in that house over there, right next to the alcohol cellar."
"NONE KNOW?"
"Yes. None know." It was then that Breyden remembered the bottles he had buried outside. He hoped they were still intact, and made a mental note to pick them up later. He did not, however, tell anyone of the alcohol.
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For the rest of day, the troops scanned the ashes of the village for anything useful. Little showed up. The fire had burned almost everything. The village was in ruins. Albert also devised a plan for the villagers.
"Breyden. Come here."
"Sir?"
"You will escort these villagers back to Lhwnton. The town government can decide what to do with them. Until then, you shall treat them well. I will assign a few more of my troops to you."
"Thank you."
"Another thing. You are captain."
Breyden gulped. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Don't let me down. The rest of my men will continue exploring this vast, wild world. Farewell."
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In the evening, Breyden, fifteen other English men, and about a hundred villagers left towards the southeast, towards Lhwnton.
