The villagers cluster like sheep. Bright against the darkness it is as if they call to me. This set had plans not to be taken easily. They found brigands, better called fools, to place as an obstacle before me. Upon the hands of these fools I could smell the gold and silver they counted but will never spend. I see them as I see their benefactors — unworthy of living. They had no higher principles in play, they did as they were paid. The quality of their honour showed in the quality of their blood, for it easily dripped away.