Bastion

the fact that about half of the villagers were sidling away, this might be the thing that did it. They weren’t entirely sure what was making them so uneasy about what the Headman was saying, but—there was something about the way he was insisting that the village could stand alone that was making them think otherwise.
    And that was when everything clicked for Mags. Because, of course, the last thing this village could do would be to stand alone. And once they made that plain—
    “I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” Mags said, as Dallen moved up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jermayan. “If that’s what you really want, then bein’ left completely alone from now on is what you’re gonna get.” He raised his hand casually, as if none of this mattered in the least to him, and looked critically at his fingernails. “Be a shame when this town gets burned down by bandits, but, hey, that’s what you wanted! Hope you are all good at rebuildin’ fast, on account of you’re gonna be doin’ a lot of it after word gets out.”
    “The Guard will be overjoyed to discover they won’t have to ride out this far just because someone lost a sheep or a cow,” said Jakyr, picking up Mags’ cue. “And they’ll be thrilled to scratch this place off the list of towns they need to safeguard the next time a really big raider band sets up around here. And I can tell you from experience that once word gets around that you no longer have Guard protection, as my young Trainee pointed out, you will be a target, over and over and over.”
    :Well done, boy!: Jakyr Mindsent, :I’ll take it from here.:
    Now the villagers who had been pulling away from the Headman moved right away from him, with murmurs of real alarm. Everyone here still remembered what life was like when bandits held The Bastion, and no one wanted those dark days to return.
    “They’ll also be thrilled that they won’t have to clear the road, once the snow starts, or mend it in the spring,” Jakyr continued, with a malicious grin. “But of course, you are all independent! You can do that for yourselves! You don’t need the Crown’s help! I’m sure you all cannot wait for the snow to start so you can get out with your sledges and pack those roads down! It will be just like a winter festival every day! And when the roads and the bridges need mending? Well, I’m sure you can all take the time away from your fields and herds and run out immediately to mend them!”
    At this, a couple of the Headman’s supporters started to move away.
    Jakyr’s smile had become positively poisonous. His voice held entire volumes of malicious pleasure. “It’s true, you’ll save on taxes, because you won’t be paying them to the Crown anymore, but do you know what it will cost you to hire mercenaries to guard you? Bard, would you happen to know that?”
    “The last time I was pricing a mercenary to act as my bodyguard, it was ten silver pieces a month and food and lodging,” Lita replied, standing hipshot, with her arms crossed over her chest. “So that’ll be fifty silver a month for a company of five, and either you’ll be building ’em a place to live, paying for ’em to be put up in the inn, or five of you will have a new houseguest who might take a liking to your wife or daughter. Ever tried to get between a merc and a girl he fancied?” She chuckled dryly. “Of course, you might get lucky. The lad might not be the sort that fancies women. Then you’ll only need to be able to keep him off your own back.”
    A few more of the Headman’s supporters peeled away. Now he was standing in front of no more than half a dozen, but he didn’t yet seem to notice.
    “We don’t need to hire mercenaries! We can defend ourselves!” he shouted. “What do you take us for?”
    “Farmers. Herders. Hunters. Woodsmen. Mothers. Servants,” said Jakyr. “You all have things you need to do every day to make a living. When will you have time to do that and learn to handle weapons? Hmm? Swinging a sword isn’t like cutting firewood. Bandits and raiders do nothing all day except practice to kill people—except, of course, when they’re actually killing people. Do you really think the lot of you would be a match for an equal number of bandits?” His face darkened. “I’ve seen what happens when that’s tried. It’s called a massacre.”
    “And even if you was,” Mags put in, “You’d have to get there afore they stole your sheep or your silver or your