Derrix turned away from the busy old woman, content with her answer. He stared at the bloodied men he had slaughtered, and knowing now that they were dishonorable men he simply nodded in recognition of them rather than make a fuss about their gruesome deaths. 

	The golden eyed stranger tapped the body of the dead bard with the toe of his boot, and his eyes wandered over the dead man’s possessions. There were two magical scrolls, a hefty and very valuable ring on his finger, and who knows what kind of priceless potions filled the man’s knapsack.

	Clearly slavery was a lucrative business around this town, Derrix concluded silently as he leaned over to place the dead man in a more dignified pose, rather than splayed out. Even if they had broken a code they didn’t even know of and fell as dishonorable in Derrix’s eyes, he wished he had a shovel, to at least put them out of sight for the town’s people.

	He looked around quickly for a place to at least drag the fallen men, after all these corpses were by his hand.