Abbot Benedict POV :
Abbot Benedict's hand trembled upon the wooden cross, yet his heart was strangely calm. He could hear the villagers sobbing, the huscarls whispering desperate prayers, the children whimpering into their mothers' skirts. Lambs, all of them , frightened, defenseless, looking to him as their shepherd.
Lord, I am afraid, he confessed inwardly. Afraid not of dying, but of failing them. What will become of these little lambs, if wolves devour the flock?
His eyes rose to the armored strangers, their steel shining brighter than any crown he had ever seen, their voices mocking both God and king alike. What are these men?, They scorn faith, they scorn law, they scorn birth and honor. A world without bonds, without covenant, without You… what horror is this?
And yet, as he looked again at the children pressed against their mothers, something deeper stirred. If I must be the wall between the flock and the wolf, let me stand firm, though the timber of this church should fall. If my blood must be spilled, let it cry out louder than my voice could ever reach. Let them see, O Lord, that even unto death, Your servant does not yield.
His grip steadied. His shoulders straightened. Peace, strange and fierce, filled him.
If I cannot save them from the sword, let me guide them by my death. If my life cannot turn these men, perhaps my martyrdom will. Into Your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.
Then he stepped forward, lifting his cross high.
"In the name of God Almighty, by the authority of His Holy Church and the See of Rome itself, I command you" His eyes locked upon Mark, then swept over the others.
"Kneel. Lay down your pride, lay down your greed, and repent before the throne of Heaven. Do not mistake your armor for strength. All flesh is dust, and to dust it shall return. Bow before the Lord, while His mercy is yet offered to you!"
The villagers gasped. Some wept openly, clutching their children. Even the huscarls, unarmed and hopeless, pressed forward to shield Oswald, their teeth bared like men facing the wolf. But none moved to stop the Abbot, for they knew he stood not as a man, but as a servant of God.
Benedict strode closer, holding the cross out before him as if it might pierce their armor, his voice rising in command.
"By Christ's blood I command you , kneel! Kneel before the Lord of Heaven, cast down your pride, and repent! For your souls are weighed this very hour!"
The words rolled through the church like thunder.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
The bells stilled. The monstrous sword dipped. Even Mark's mocking posture faltered, as though some unseen weight pressed against his shoulders.
For the first time since the giants had burst through the doors, silence fell like a holy shroud. Hope flickered in the villagers' eyes. Some wept with trembling smiles, whispering prayers that this shepherd's courage might yet turn the wolves into lambs.
Then a shadow moved.
From behind Mark, one of the armored figures stepped forward. His fist, clad in steel, The blow struck the Abbot across the temple.
His words died on his lips as his body crumpled to the floorboards, the cross slipping from his hands. Gasps and cries tore from the congregation, the sound raw and desperate.
"We're keeping this one."
He hauled the Abbot's limp body outside. The congregation sat frozen, their fear thick as smoke, the last hope of deliverance snuffed out with the priest's fall.
A new voice broke the silence . One of the armored men stepped forward, posture square, his tone colder than steel.
"Enough wasting time. Gather the villagers into one place. Secure the noble. And strip the church of its treasures before we move on to his hall."
Another voice, younger and casual ,called out from the back."What about the villagers? We've got the cart and timbers outside. when do we Burn them?"
The villagers sagged beneath the weight of their words. Some wept openly, others clutched their children to their breasts, but none dared stir.
The words of the armored giants echoed in their ears , the casual talk of burning them alive, as if they were nothing more than brushwood for the fire.
Thegn Oswald stood rigid, jaw set, his face carved from stone. Before him, his huscarls spread their arms like shields of flesh, barring the way with nothing but their bodies.
They had no swords, no spears ,only their oaths, their courage, and the knowledge that wolves had come for their flock.
The officer's helm turned. His reply came flat."No need. Keep them penned here. Post two of ours to guard the doors while the rest sweep the church and the noble's residence. We'll take what we need first."
At that, two of the armored giants strode toward Oswald.
Oswald stiffened but did not flinch. His huscarls, though unarmed, surged to his defense, placing themselves in front of their lord.
"Stand down!" Oswald barked. His voice cracked like a whip in the hushed church. "You'll throw your lives away!"
But they would not. Loyalty bound them tighter than fear. With a roar, the huscarls hurled themselves at the giants.
Steel flashed. The clash lasted only a heartbeat. A gauntleted backhand sent one man sprawling, his ribs crushed with the sound of snapping wood.
Another huscarl was caught by a descending blade , split from shoulder to breastbone before he even struck a blow.
The villagers screamed, some trying to rise, others frozen in terror. Blood stained the wooden floorboards before the altar.
Thegn Oswald roared, the sound raw, more grief than battle-cry. He surged forward, ready to throw himself at the giants, to die with his men if he must.
But as he lunged, a hand caught his leg. He stumbled, nearly falling. Looking down, he saw the huscarl who had been struck aside, his body broken, blood leaking from his lips. And yet, even in ruin, the man clung to him.
"My lord… no…" the huscarl gasped, voice wet and thin. His eyes, glassy with pain, still burned with devotion. "Live… for them…"
Oswald froze, the strength drained from his limbs. Around him, the villagers sobbed, their thegn brought low not by enemy steel, but by the desperate grasp of a friend who would not let him share the same fate.
The officer scoffed, his tone cutting like iron."Enough , We don't have time for cinematics. get him."
Oswald did not struggle. He stood tall as they seized him, his silence heavier than any chains. Behind him, the villagers wept, their world collapsing with every step that carried their lord away.