[The British Isles, Wessex — March of 793]
Abbot Bendeict POV :
The morning sun spilled gently over the valley of the River Cerne, its clear waters winding past the small village of Cerne. Smoke curled from thatched roofs, and the sound of livestock carried faintly on the crisp spring air.
Abbot Benedict, a man of fifty years and steady faith, stood before his flock with quiet gratitude. He had seen darker times, and each day of peace felt like a blessing he dared not take for granted. The church he welcomed them into was a humble one , little more than timber walls and a simple cross but big enough to house the villagers.
Most of the village had gathered that morning, At the head of the assembled villagers and his own household guard stood Oswald, The thegn of Cerne.
At forty-nine, his back was broad, his hands calloused not just from the hilt of a sword, but from the weight of his responsibilities. For twenty years, this land had been his to govern.
He had not earned it with a hero's sword or a saint's piety. He had been entrusted with Cerne for the one quality the jittery and mediocre king, Beorhtric valued most, His ambition was a quiet, The dormant thing.
In 793, with the powerful Mercian King Offa pressing down on Wessex, Beorhtric had no need for rising stars. He needed anchors. And Oswald, steady and unyielding, proved to be just that.
"Lord Oswald," Benedict greeted, inclining his head. "It is good to see you among the flock this morning. Your presence steadies them."
Oswald returned the nod, his voice a deep rumble softened by years of restraint. "It is no great feat to walk with one's neighbors to the house of God. Yet I fear they lean on me more than I deserve."
Benedict's thin lips curved faintly. "A shepherd must walk before his flock, even if he doubts his own strength. You govern them, you protect them — and in that, they see God's hand."
The thegen glanced at the timber beams overhead, the crude altar at the front. "A fragile house," he murmured. "If storm or fire came, it would not stand long."
The abbot's gaze followed his, lingering on the timber. He placed a hand on his cross. "It is not the walls that endure, but the faith within them."
Oswald gave no answer at once. His eyes were tired, lined by years of burdens that no sword could strike down. Finally, he said, "Faith may hold the soul, Father. But it is the sword that hold the land."
Oswald turned, gesturing for his huscarls to quiet the villagers. Benedict raised his arms, ready to begin the Mass.
Beyond the valley, where the pastures rose into chalky hills, figures stood against the morning light.
"Can you believe just how lucky we are?" Mark laughed, looking at Jason, and raid officer, and the other players with them.
"The entire village in one place , The guards and the noble literally defenseless without even their weapons. Who knows when such an opportunity will present itself again?"
Even Jason, who still had doubts about his friend's recklessness, couldn't help but feel the pull of their luck. He tried to sway the officer. "Look, we said we're here to scout , fine. But do you know what a noble's ransom is worth?
Forget looting. We'll take plenty of that, sure, but add the noble's ransom on top of it. Imagine how much gold we'll make without any effort. We can even keep some for ourselves."
"No. Orders are orders. We wait for the guild," the officer replied firmly, trying to project authority. "Even if we get the ransom and the gold, it won't matter if any of us fight and get killed by the NPCs. Losing our armor sets isn't worth the risk."
"Fight?" Mark repeated, as if the word were the most alien idea in the world. "Why would we fight? Look at that building. What do you see?"
The officer frowned. "A church?"
"Wrong," Mark said, his grin spreading. "Timber. We block the gates… and burn it down."
"B… burn it down?" The officer gulped, his voice catching in his throat. "There have to be at least a two hundred people in there!"
The officer stiffened, trying to mask the crack in his voice. "Choose your words carefully, Mark. I'm the officer here, and I have my orders."
Jason finally spoke, his tone cautious but edged. "Orders, sure… but an officer's supposed to adapt to the field. You can't just parrot commands when an opportunity like this drops in front of us."
Mark smirked, seizing on Jason's words. "Exactly. Orders are for the blind. Leaders adjust, officers adapt. Or are you just here to look important while someone else does the thinking?"
The officer's jaw worked as if he were grinding the words before spitting them out. He stood silent for a long moment, pretending to weigh the choice.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose and gave a stiff nod. "...Very well. We'll proceed with stealth , Circle wide. No noise. Find something to block the church gate , carts, wagons, anything. Once they're trapped inside, we set it alight."
No one listened. Mark was already striding downhill, Jason on his heels, the others rushing after. The officer lingered a moment, his orders still hanging in the air, before grimacing and trailing after them, more follower than leader.
NOTES AND FUN FACTS
Thegns and Huscarls : A thegn like Oswald was a landholding noble, expected to protect his people and serve his king in war. His elite warriors, the huscarls, were professional fighters loyal to their lord rather than the crown. Ordinary villagers rarely owned weapons beyond spears or axes used for work.
Churches of Wood, Not Stone – The villagers of Cerne prayed in timber halls with thatched roofs, not towering stone cathedrals. A fire, accidental or deliberate, could wipe out the heart of a community in minutes.
Churches : In the 8th century, most Anglo-Saxon churches were still timber halls with thatched roofs, easy prey to rot, age, or fire. Stone churches did exist usually built for important monasteries or at the behest of powerful patrons (nobles) , but they were rare and costly. The famous monk Bede, writing a few decades earlier, even mentioned how many early stone churches collapsed because builders didn't yet fully understand Roman techniques.
After 1066 – The Normans made stone the standard, importing Romanesque architecture with massive towers and thick walls. That's when the landscape of England started filling with the great stone churches and cathedrals we imagine today.
King (Cyning) → Later King (no change, though Norman and later medieval kingship became more centralized and absolute).
Ætheling (royal prince, heir to the throne) → Later Prince or Crown Prince.
Ealdorman (powerful noble governing a shire or province) → Later Earl (under the Normans, "earl" replaced "ealdorman").
High-Reeve (regional official, sometimes military) → Roughly like a Count or high Sheriff.
Thegn/Thane (landholder serving a lord or king, military service expected) → Later Baron or Knight depending on their wealth and influence.
Huscarl (professional household warrior of a thegn or king) → Later Knight's retainer or Man-at-arms.
Ceorl (Churl) (free peasant, owned small land, owed military/fyrd service) → Later Yeoman (freeholding farmer).
Gebur/Cottar (lower peasant, rented land, worked a lord's estate) → Later Villein/Serf under Norman feudalism.
Thrall (slave, often captured in war or because of debt) → Slavery declined after the Norman Conquest, evolving (or devolving) into serfdom instead.