It was such an easy thing, to see the enemy as faceless nobodies. It’s what they did in the war, it was the only way to justify any of it. Uniforms made it even easier, and a wash of nameless Guardsmen sounded like a thing that nobody could ever miss. Anonymity turned violence into a tool, a necessity which Robin refused to succumb to here. Every man who pulled steel against them would be an Englishman, and that was a crucial thing to remember. It kept that hungry beast at bay.

“So we’re not supposed to kill them?” someone croaked in the back. It was another new recruit, a short sort of frog man named Charley Dancer.

Robin shook his head. “Only if you have to.”

“I swear, if they hang Will and Elena,” Alan tried to sound braver than he was, “I’ll kill them all myself.”

A few men nodded in grim approval.

“That was Elena’s promise,” John Little added, “and I stick to it. Whoever’s responsible for one of our deaths, has got it coming back.” Robin noted that more people rallied at this than when Alan had said the exact same thing a second earlier. “Any problems amongst?”

Robin had another lecture prepared, but nobody could tell John Little no. His burden in all of this made him unchallengeable. “None, none,” answered Charley, folding his frog face. “That’s a promise I can live by. Just wondering if they might feel the same.”

“If who might feel the same?” Arthur asked.

“The Sheriff’s Guard. What if they don’t take to having their men killed none neither?”

“That’s a good point, Charley,” Robin jumped in, happy for the opportunity. “Just remember, anyone you attack might be a Scarlet, or an Elena, or a Much, to somebody else.” Or a William. “No need to make any more enemies than we already have.”

“Excepting we haven’t killed any children.” Little’s voice was harsh. “That’s not the finest of lines.”

Again, there was no way to disagree. Robin proceeded cautiously. “Even still, we cannot act as the wanton criminals they make us out to be. Once we get Will and Elena back, they’ll still need to answer for what they did. Without the support of the people, we cannot accomplish anything.” He had returned to prevent any more senseless death, not to add to it. “Alright everyone, once around!”

Robin twirled his fingers in the air and the body of men groaned and leaned into a run. He had trained them to do sprints around the field at random times, to get used to unexpected bursts of excitement. “Where’s your sword?” he yelled at David of Doncaster, who sighed and ran back to retrieve it. John Little walked at an obvious leisure, so he tapped John’s flanks playfully with the flat of his sword. “Best get used to running, John.”