Chapter 7 SECTION 7 CANNOT STOP THE KILLING OPERATION

But these red boats didn't come for treasure or prize bulls, or to take women as wives and young men as slaves.Like Forge, robbers would butcher and dismember fur-fur sheep, trample smoked salmon underfoot, and set fire to warehouses for wool and wine.Yes, they will also take some hostages for smelting, but the purpose is only for smelting.Smelting magic would cripple them, strip them of all emotion and basic thought.The robbers don't take the hostages, they just leave them here to vent their debilitating pain on their loved ones.And those who have been tempered have no humanity, they can only ruthlessly sweep across their hometown and plunder their relatives like wolverines, this is the most cruel weapon of the people of the Outer Islands.I know what I see only because I have seen the tragic consequences of other raids.

I watched as waves of death flooded the town.The pirates of the Outer Islands jumped from their boats and streamed from the docks into the village, moving slowly and silently through the streets in twos and threes, like deadly poison in wine, some stopping to look for other ships on the shore.Most of the boats are open bottomed fishing dories, but there are two larger fishing boats and a merchant vessel.The crew was killed in the blink of an eye, squawking helplessly, flapping their wings and struggling like fowl when a weasel entered the henhouse.The sailors shouted to me for help with blood-stained voices, but the thick fog greedily swallowed up the screams, making their deaths as insignificant as the wailing of seabirds.Then, regardless of the value of the ship itself, the robbers set fire to the ship mercilessly and did not take any loot. That's all.

I can only witness this scene of tragedy, but there is nothing I can do.I coughed violently, and finally managed to speak in one breath. "If only I knew about these robbers," I said to the Fool, "if only I knew what they want. These Red Ship robbers are inhuman and do not reveal the true intention of war. How do we fight? But if I know them..." The Fool pursed his pale lips in thought. "They're just sharing the madness of their messengers, and unless you're mad as well, you can't understand them. I don't want to do that myself, because even knowing them won't stop these carnage."

"No." I don't want to see this tragic village again, because I have seen too many of the same nightmares.But only the heartless would stand by and see this as a poor puppet show.I don't want to see my people die, but that's all I can do.I was sick and disabled, lingering like an old man, unable to do anything, so I had to watch all this. I watched towns wake up from their slumber, people opened their eyes to see a strange hand grabbing their throat or chest, or saw a knife stuck in a cradle, and heard being pulled from sleep The child wailed suddenly.Little by little the lights of the whole village flickered, some were candles lit when neighbors shouted, others were torches or burning houses.Although the Red Ship robbers have been terrorizing the six duchies for a year, tonight's raid brought these residents into the action.They thought they were fully prepared, and having heard the horror stories, they made up their minds not to let the tragedy happen again.However, houses continued to burn, and screams were still heard in the smoky night sky.

"Tell me, Fool," I asked him hoarsely. "Tell me, what do people say about Muddy Bay? I mean the winter raid at Muddy Bay." He breathed tremblingly. "It's not easy, and I can't tell." He hesitated for a moment--"Everything is swaying, completely changed. Too many people and things are intertwined into chaos, Your Majesty, and the future will go from there unfold in every direction." "Tell what you saw," I ordered him. "They made a song for the town," said the Fool guiltily.He still held my shoulder tightly, and even through the pajamas, I could still feel how cold his slender, strong fingers were.A shudder passed through us, and I felt him struggling to keep standing beside me. "When people sing this song in the tavern, they will also beat the table with their wine glasses to beat the beat. It seems to be not bad. It is conceivable how brave these people are. They would rather fight to the death than surrender, so no one was captured and smelted alive , really no one." The Fool paused for a moment, and then commented in a funny tone: "Of course, when you're drinking your ale and singing, you can neither see blood nor smell burning corpses. The smell, let alone the screaming, but it's all understandable. Have you ever tried to write a rhyme for 'The Dismembered Child'? Someone has written 'Wild in Memory', but this rhyme Not quite in rhythm." His good-natured quips are far from amusing, nor are our bitter one-liners reassuring.He was silent again, my prisoner destined to share with me his painful knowledge of the truth.

I witnessed all this in silence.No rhyme can describe how parents put poison pills in their children's mouths to avoid persecution from robbers.No one can sing of the convulsions of a child swallowed by poison, or of a raped woman dying, or of an archer shooting his captive friends before they are dragged away by robbers. tragedy.I stared at a burning house, saw the inside of the house through the flames, and saw a ten-year-old boy whose throat was cut open by his mother with a knife. For the loving brother will not give her up to robbers or to the flames of greed.I saw the determination in the mother's eyes when she picked up the dead bodies of the children and walked towards the flames. It is better not to remember such a tragedy.But I can't just ignore it, because I have to know these things so I can remember them later.

There are still survivors.Some fled to neighboring fields or forests, and then I saw a young man with four children hiding under the pier, holding on to the piles on the bank in the freezing water to wait for the robbers to leave, others was killed while fleeing.I saw a woman in pajamas slip outside a house that was already on fire on one side.She held a child in her arms, and another child grabbed her skirt and ran away after her. Although it was dark, the light from the burning house still illuminated the tips of her hair.She looked around in horror, but the long knife in the other hand was ready to go.I caught a glimpse of a small, unyielding mouth and eyes squinted with rage.Then, a proud face in the firelight suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. "Molly!" I gasped and held out my claw-like hand to her as she pulled up a door, hissed the children into the wine cellar behind the burning house, and then quietly pulled the door open. down the door.Is this safe?

No.Two robbers came around the corner, one with an axe.They moved slowly and swaggered and laughed loudly, the whites of their eyes accentuated by the soot smeared on their faces.One of the robbers was a beautiful woman, strutting and laughing, her hair braided with fire-reflecting silver thread, looking unafraid.Two robbers approached the wine cellar door, and the ax-wielding robber swung his ax in a perfect arc to slash at the wooden door, when I heard the terrified cry of a child. "Molly!"