Dusk approached. A young woman walked home, accompanied by her grandfather. They were returning to their village, after a short fishing trip to a nearby river. "Thank you so much, my dear. These old bones of mine couldn't bear lifting two of these." Wheezed the old man while struggling to balance a tall basket full of all sorts of fish in his arms. Today was a good day. Their catch was extraordinary. The Khan may have taken their crops, but the Kingdom still provided, any way it could. The old man smiled behind a thick white moustache. "Don't you mention it. After all, it was you who did all the work today." The girl giggled. Delivering a sideways glance, the man's face lit up with another smile, this time one he could not conceal. "We'll make an angler out of you yet!" Said he. "After all, it's in the family."
The girl opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, a figure leapt from a nearby bush, tackling her and pinning her to the ground. The old man dropped his basket and ran to her aid, but before he could reach his granddaughter, he felt an arm around his neck, and a blade's tip against his back. Two more thugs emerged from the shadows, brandishing bucklers and axes. The bandit constraining the girl spoke. "Them's got but fishes, boss! Nothing else on 'er." The girl grunted and struggled spewing profanity at her assailants, knowing that screaming for aid would mean their death. She looked to her grandfather, sweating and now on his knees. Behind him stood a man of great stature, wielding a rather impressive sword. "Bah! Should've thought so. Damn peasants don't even have the decency of carrying a coin purse. The chief's voice, his accent was not the same as the ones of his cronies. It did not belie his origin. "We kill them. Now." He gave one of his men the evil eye. "And don't you do to her what you do to others. These ones are close to their homes and their screams will be heard." The chief raised his blade as the old man's eyes widened in terror. "Please, I beg of you. Just let the girl go. She won't say a word. We don't even know where your camp is-"
An ear-piercing clang was heard as the chief's blade clashed against another. The figure wielding it was using but one hand, yet the chief caught only a glimpse of it before an armored fist crashed against his face, shattering his nose. It moved, swifter than any fighter hoped to move, towards the one holding down the girl. A kick in the chest sent him flying a few feet back, reeling in pain, and a blade in the eye ended his misery. The hooded creature slowly turned around to face the other two bandits. The old man crawled towards his granddaughter, and they embraced. The thugs raised their shields, wondering how suddenly and from where could such a thing appear. A liquid dripped down one's britches. The figure slightly crouched, and let himself loose upon them. In a blink of an eye, two shields were split, one head was cleaved, and one throat was slit. He walked over the still warm bodies and towards the chief.
"I have peered into your heart, noble." He stomped on the man's shin, causing it to snap. The chief let loose a blood-curdling scream. I have peered into your underlings' hearts. They have no room for mercy. Your minions kill for gold. You kill for its' own reward. You are all guilty."
The young woman heard a sickening sound and raised her tear-stained head. She saw an armored man standing a few steps away examining them, cloak flailing wildly in the wind. Panic gave way to a grave realization in the old man's mind as the girl froze in terror. "Granfather, his eyes..." The creature turned around, shook the blood off his blade, and taking heavy steps, vanished into the wilderness. "We're safe. Speak not of it, my dear." He helped his granddaughter up and picked up the baskets, along with what remained from their contents.
"Speak not of it..."
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