The Devouring Knight

"My Lord!" Krivex's voice carried across the courtyard as he strode toward him.

Lumberling didn't wait for questions. His tone was steady and decisive. "I know. Prepare everyone. This won't be a raid or a march of soldiers, it will be an exodus. We'll be escorting ten thousand souls to Liraeth's territory."

Krivex's brows furrowed. "Ten thousand…" He exhaled slowly, the number sinking in. "That will slow us to a crawl. We'll draw eyes from every direction."

"That's the price," Lumberling said firmly. His gaze swept over the training yard, already picturing columns of frightened families and heavy carts snaking across open roads. "We won't move like shadows this time. Every bandit, every scout, every enemy will know we're moving. And we'll fight them. This time, none of us can falter."

Krivex gave a sharp nod.

Lumberling's hand curled briefly into a fist before he unclenched it. Many might not survive. No, he would make sure most did.

He turned back to Krivex. "Send word to the goblin village. Tell them to abandon the second base. The sub-captains and Shade are to head directly for Liraeth's territory. They'll help reinforce her defenses until we arrive."

"At once," Krivex said, already signaling one of the runners. A pair of messenger birds were quickly brought forth, their dark wings rustling as orders were tied and released into the fading sky.

Lumberling straightened, voice carrying as more of his captains and soldiers began to gather. "Listen well! We move before dawn. Pack light, carry only what you need to fight and survive. From this point on, every step matters. Every breath matters. We are the shield that stands between death and those who cannot defend themselves."

The air tightened as the weight of his words sank in. No one spoke, but their eyes gleamed with grim determination.

For a brief moment, silence ruled. Then Skitz broke it with a crooked grin. "Guess we're done with peace and quiet, eh?"

A ripple of low laughter passed among the captains, but beneath it was steel. They knew what awaited them.

Lumberling allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "Peace was never ours to keep. But we'll make sure they reach it."

...

Before the dawn broke, the gates creaked open, their iron hinges groaning as if reluctant to let so many lives spill beyond the city's safety.

One by one, then by hundreds, the people poured out, families clutching what little they could carry, carts creaking under bundles of food and blankets, children stumbling sleepily beside their parents.

Not everyone came. Some chose to remain behind, clinging to their homes despite the danger. Baron Roland had not forced them, he could only protect those willing to follow. Whether those that choose to stay would survive was left to luck.

The column stretched far across the road, a river of people flowing toward uncertain safety.

Jen rode near the front, light armor strapped over her slim frame, her eyes wide as she took in the sea of people. "It's… it's a lot more than I imagined," she murmured.

Uncle Drake, riding beside her with his usual unflinching calm, gave a grunt. "And every single one of them is counting on us not to fail."

At the very front, Captain Derrek barked orders, his voice carrying across the din. "Keep your lines tight! Essentials only, drop anything that slows you down! Stay together!" His soldiers moved through the crowd, urging stragglers forward and helping families balance overloaded carts.

Baron Roland rode close beside him, his banner snapping in the early wind. His tone was calmer, reassuring those too frightened to move. "Steady now, no pushing. We'll make it through if we stay in order. Stay close to your kin."

On the flanks, Eldric and his squad of recent recruits moved tirelessly, guiding the flow of people and scanning the woods beyond the road. Their armor was mismatched, their drills rough, but their presence gave courage to the people walking beside them. Eldric's steady voice carried encouragement. "Eyes ahead. Don't look back. Every step forward is a step toward safety."

Behind it all, at the tail of the column, Lumberling rode with his captains and vice-captains. Their horses and mounts formed a living wall, a shield between the refugees and whatever might come from behind. The heavy tread of boars thudded against the dirt, their riders scanning the horizon with cold, watchful eyes.

Lumberling's gaze swept the endless line of people before him. He could feel the weight pressing on his shoulders. If an enemy came, the people would flee forward, and he and his soldiers would be the wall that stood until the last.

Skitz rode up beside him, his grin faint but sharp. "We're the end of the line, huh? Fitting. If death comes from behind, it'll have to step over us first."

"That's the idea," Lumberling said quietly, his eyes never leaving the road.

...

For days they trudged forward, but their progress was painfully slow. The column of ten thousand moved like a wounded beast, halting often. Children cried, elders stumbled, and wagons groaned under the weight of belongings people clung to as though their past lives could shield them from what was coming.

Every few hours, they were forced to rest. Ordinary folk simply couldn't endure the endless march, not with their homes strapped to their backs.

By the fourth night, a heavy silence lingered over the camp. At the largest campfire, the leaders gathered, Lumberling with his captains, Baron Roland with his officers, Eldric seated stiff-backed, and the tired but sharp-eyed Captain Derrek.

Derrek broke the silence first, his voice low but grim.

"At this pace, we'll need two months before we even set foot in Viscount Liraeth's lands. Two months of this… and each day the chance of attack grows."

Baron Roland exhaled through his nose, staring into the flames. "Then tomorrow, order everyone to leave behind what they don't truly need. Food and water only. The women, children, and elderly will ride the horses and wagons, we'll push the rest to walk. Pride and keepsakes won't save lives."