Chapter 6 Part 1

There was nothing glorious about it. 

João, along with the others, had retreated to a point from which they could still see the crude wooden walls of Irmy. Insults and the occasional arrow came from the town, but they fell harmlessly onto the grass, too far to pose any real threat. 

Bodies littered the road. Villagers lay strewn among the white cloaks of the Templars. Some were still writhing, crying out for help — but it was impossible to approach, as the archers remained vigilant atop the walls. 

João's youthful fantasies of combat were in shambles. He had imagined honorable duels, heroic deeds, immortal glory... but what he found was chaos, pain, and blood. 

The older Templars whispered among themselves, and it didn't take a genius to understand the topic. With Bruno dead, the unit needed a new leader. 

"Still among the living?" Gabriel called out when he saw João. 

"More or less," João replied, lifting his helmet and revealing the massive welt on his forehead. 

Gabriel winced at the sight of the wound. The blow had torn the skin at the center of João's forehead, and if not for the helmet, his skull might have cracked. 

"Have you seen the rest of the group?" João asked. 

"Yes," Gabriel answered, exhausted, hands on his hips. "You seem to have taken the worst of it. The others just got a few cuts and bruises." 

João nodded and tried to move, but felt sharp stabs in his shins. They had taken several kicks. He imagined the bruises beneath the metal armor — his legs must look like a pillow stained with wine. 

"And now?" he asked. 

"We invade Irmy and wipe out those pagans," Gabriel said firmly. 

"Can't wait," João muttered, half-cynical. 

"But we have a small... big problem," said Pedro, approaching with his spear still in hand. 

"Survived intact, did you?" João commented. 

"Of course — except for a damned splinter in my finger because of this cursed weapon!" Pedro replied, winking with his usual cheeky humor. 

"But seriously," Gabriel interjected, "what are our immediate concerns?" 

Pedro sat beside them, sighing. 

"I thought it was obvious: we need to choose a new leader." 

João nodded. He wished it could be Vicente. But after everything they'd been through, it was almost certain Afonso would take command. 

"Who do you think it'll be?" 

"Afonso," all three said almost in unison. 

For a few minutes, silence reigned. Each lost in bitter thoughts, until Gabriel spoke again: 

"I can barely remember what happened. Just flashes… shadows, blows, screams. Behind the shields, all I could do was push the spear back and forth like a madman." 

"And the sounds..." João added, eyes distant. "The sound of flesh tearing… the sound of a man dying." 

"Attention!" shouted Vicente, breaking the silence. 

All the Templars gathered into ranks like the day before. But now, there were fewer. Far fewer. 

Vicente stepped forward: 

"We did not expect such a well-crafted ambush from the villagers of Irmy. We suffered heavy losses. Twelve of our brothers fell… including our commander, Bruno." 

João vividly remembered the moment Bruno fell. Before, he had not feared arrows. Now, every whistle through the air made his heart race. 

Vicente continued: 

"But we will not retreat before the pagans of this damned city!" — Some soldiers shouted in support. — "And so, we have chosen a new leader." 

Without further ado, Vicente stepped aside, making way for Afonso. 

He stood rigid, his gaze blank. Clearing his throat, he spoke with firmness: 

"I have been chosen to lead this expedition." — Murmurs spread, but were silenced by a sharp gesture of his hand. — "We will not retreat. Yes, we fell into a trap. But make no mistake: they lost more men than we did." 

João nodded. One only had to look at the bodies. The road was filled with dead villagers. 

"I am not foolish enough to order another direct assault. But we will watch this city like crows circling carrion. No one will enter or leave without my knowing. I will send scouts for reinforcements. In the meantime, we will conduct constant patrols, day and night." 

The plan sounded sensible. Everyone nodded, relieved. Afonso then raised his hand again and added: 

"But we will not sit idly waiting for reinforcements. Tomorrow, we begin building a catapult. We will stone Irmy until its walls fall!" 

This time, the enthusiasm was uncontrollable. The men cheered, shouted, beat their swords against their shields. 

"Sir!" a young man beside João shouted. 

"Yes?" 

"Why not start preparing everything today?" 

The answer came from Rafael, emerging among the veterans: 

"Simple, soldier. Today we have a more sacred duty." 

Silence fell. 

"Today… we bury our dead." 

And so, the Templars began to dig the graves of their fallen brothers, under a gray sky that bore silent witness to their sorrow.