Kapitel 11: Chapter 11: Tuff crowd huh.

The day was still young. In front of Hadrian stood a tall, tan man with a thick mustache and a bald head that gleamed in the sunlight. He towered over Hadrian, standing at nearly six feet—a height that seemed even more imposing given the boy's smaller stature.

The man's uneasy gaze shifted between Hadrian and the group of mercenaries behind him. "Who are you, and why are you in the town of Eretis?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Huh, must not know Kazimir sent us, Hadrian thought. Figures. That man never sends messengers on time.

Hadrian glanced up at Skyles with a smirk before turning back to the man. "We're here under orders from Kazimir of the Scythians to oversee this settlement for the foreseeable future," he announced, his voice steady but carrying a friendly edge.

The man blinked in surprise, his posture straightening as he processed the words. "We hadn't gotten word of this," he stammered, then quickly added, "Thank the lords Kazimir sent help." He hesitated, then offered his hand. "Sorry for the lack of manners. My name is Georgios. I'm a blacksmith here in Eretis."

Hadrian shook the man's rough, calloused hand. The strength behind it spoke of years of hard labor. "A pleasure, Georgios. I'll do my best to set things right here."

The blacksmith stepped aside, allowing the mercenaries to ride through the village gates. Leon, riding a few paces behind Hadrian, called out, "Where should we set up?"

"Tell the men to head to the center of the village," Hadrian replied, dismounting from his horse. Dust puffed up around his boots as he landed, and he patted the animal's flank before turning back to Georgios. "I want to make some announcements."

The blacksmith watched Hadrian with curiosity, then chuckled. "So you're the boy commander everyone's been talking about. I don't know why, but I expected you to be… a little bigger."

Hadrian smirked. "I'm only thirteen. I've got a few more years to grow."

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As they walked toward the town center, Hadrian couldn't help but grimace at the state of Eretis. Cobbled huts dotted the core of the village, their thatched roofs sagging as if clinging to life by sheer will. The wood looked charred, likely from past goblin raids, and the air carried a pungent mixture of burnt flesh and rotting debris. The paved paths were overgrown with weeds, and the few villagers in sight moved like shadows, heads down and eyes hollow.

This place is barely hanging on.

Hadrian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Most of the people are out in the fields. If I can reduce the number working on agriculture, more can take up trades, crafts—or join a militia.

As they neared the village center, the signs of poverty grew starker. Homeless men, women, and children huddled against walls, their faces pale and gaunt. Hadrian's jaw tightened. This has to be one of my top priorities. If the people don't have homes, they won't have loyalty—and humans shouldn't be left to suffer like this.

Georgios must have noticed Hadrian's expression because he spoke up. "It's bad, lad. The goblins don't just take livestock. They burn homes, ruin food stores… We've rebuilt as best we can, but it's like trying to patch a sinking ship with a bucket."

Hadrian nodded grimly. "That's going to change. It has to."

When they finally reached the heart of Eretis, the crowd awaiting them was larger than expected. Over two hundred villagers had gathered, their eyes heavy with skepticism. Silence greeted Hadrian's arrival—a silence that felt oppressive, as though the crowd had already judged him unworthy.

Skyles leaned in, whispering with a smirk, "Tough crowd, huh?"

Hadrian rolled his eyes. "I'll handle it."

"Sure you will," Skyles teased. "They'll be putty in your hands, princess."

Hadrian shot him a warning glare. "Call me that again, and I'll make sure you regret it."

Leon chimed in, his tone more serious. "Just tell them what you've done. They'll listen."

Hadrian shook his head. "It's not that simple. They're not going to trust a thirteen-year-old just because I say I'm here to help. I need to prove myself."

Stepping onto a raised wooden platform, Hadrian took a moment to survey the villagers. Their faces were lined with distrust, their postures tense. He cleared his throat. "People of Eretis—"

Before he could finish, a ginger-haired boy in the crowd shouted, "Why should we believe you?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder with each passing second. A middle-aged woman stepped forward, her face pale and tear-streaked. "I lost my boy in the last goblin raid. What do you know of loss?"

The murmurs turned into a roar of discontent. Insults and accusations flew through the air, and a rock sailed toward the platform, striking Hadrian square in the cheek.

"Argh!" Hadrian winced, staggering back. Leon was at his side instantly, shielding him with his arm. "Please, stop!" Leon shouted, desperation in his voice. Skyles, meanwhile, motioned for some of the mercenaries to intervene, but Hadrian held up a hand.

"No! Leave them!" His voice cut through the chaos, silencing even his comrades. Blood trickled down his cheek as he glared at the crowd. "You want to throw rocks? Fine! But if you want to survive, you'll listen!"

The opaque glow of the system screen flickered into view, visible only to Hadrian.

Superior Command Skill Activated: Effect in Progress: Loyalty +20%.

The crowd's aggression seemed to ebb slightly. The murmurs quieted, the tension shifting from outright hostility to wary curiosity. Hadrian seized the moment.

"I may be young, but I've fought goblins before—and won. I know their tactics, where they hide, how they strike. If you work with me, we can protect this village. But if you keep throwing rocks and shouting, the goblins will come back. And when they do, you'll be defenseless. Is that what you want?"

The villagers exchanged uncertain glances. Some still looked skeptical, but others nodded slowly. The woman who had spoken earlier stepped back, her expression softening.

Skyles chuckled from the sidelines. "Didn't expect that from royalty."

Hadrian wiped the blood from his face, glaring at him. "Get out there and tell them what they want to hear. I've got a militia to organize."

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As the crowd dispersed, Hadrian joined Georgios and Leon by the village's forge. The blacksmith crossed his arms, looking Hadrian over with a mix of skepticism and newfound respect. "You've got fire, lad. But speeches won't stop goblins."

Hadrian nodded. "I know. That's why I need your help."

Georgios raised an eyebrow. "What kind of help?"

"I want you to help me outfit the militia. Weapons, armor—anything you can spare. We'll need to set up defensive positions, too. Do you know how many men here have combat experience?"

The blacksmith frowned. "Not many. A handful, maybe. Most are farmers or craftsmen. But… if you train them, they'll fight."

Hadrian glanced at Leon, who was watching the exchange quietly. "Then we start training tomorrow. No more waiting for help that won't come. If we don't protect this place, no one will."