Twenty miles away from the Mooston border, the Little Lady villagers have stopped to let their mules gather their strength. They have been running for the whole night with the storm holding them back. Rain falling and stopping every minute, and fiery growling wind pushing them back with force. The poor villagers themselves are exhausted and covered with sweat and mud. They are not used to such urgent and turbulent travels. Mothers are barely holding their babies off from wailing and crying, and the older folk are all running out of patience and energy. Some of them are even questioning this endeavor. What if the threat of the constable was just a babbling of a desperate dying man? They have left everything behind and trusted their deacon and their doctor in this runaway adventure. Landon, their leader, is looking at the dark sky. He as well noticed the same pattern as the day the purgers visited them. Margery comes closer to him.
"It's happening again, the rough thunderstorm", she said looking at the dark horizon.
"Yeah, the weather is mighty foul these last days", he replied.
The pair sits on a cart and a silence looms over them. Each one is drowning in his own thoughts. Landon cannot seem to shake off the deacon's last words to him, how he described the cruelty of the constable. Have they really crossed the path of such a monster? Can they escape from his grasp? The doctor turns around and takes a good look behind him, staring at the dark horizon. He senses an uneasiness doing so. He can't help but imagine the constable's troops right behind them. Margery on the other hand, is having much brighter thoughts. She is recalling the moments she spent with her father in the inn, how they worked together, how they cleaned the mess the drunken men left there every night, how they rebuilt and repainted the walls when the Murdokians first arrived. She also remembered when her father used to take her with him to Castle Mercy, where he served Lord Jaime there, way before any Murdokian intrusion. How she would play with nobility children as they treated her as one of their own. It was all bitter sweet memories that she remembered when she realised she won't see her father nor her inn again. Just a week earlier, she was an ordinary innkeeper of her little village, now she is running away from execution by hand of the mightiest power in the land. She snaps from her nostalgia bubble and stands up.
"We should get moving doctor, Mooston is just a two hour ride away, we could make it there before the storm hits its peak"
"I agree, let's rally the villagers". He stands up as well and starts clapping his hands, "Brothers and sisters it is time to move again, we are not too far away"
Landon mounts his horse with Margery on its back and guides the villagers towards their escape. Even now, he cannot shake the feeling that their pursuers are close.
Constable Marlon, atop his massive steed and flanked by his mighty armed force, follows his hounds. Unlike Bronn's, they picked up a scent, a strong one, and are following it ferociously. The wind helped carry it. The storm worked in the constable's favor. They are trained military men with big armor and relentless studs, following a pack of helpless harmless peasants, with old mules carrying them and their things. He is confident, no he is certain that he will catch them. Marlon was always a man of flair and overexpression. If he had an ounce of power over anyone he wouldn't hesitate a moment to show it. He is ruthless and unforgiving, sadistic even. Half of the forces of Keep of the Hammer are unleashed, and for what? Lowly pack of peasants. The deacon disrespected him and went against his sacred orders, and for that he has to give the adequate punishment. The hounds stop and start barking, they have found something. This is where the villagers made their stop. The constable's forces reached it, incredibly fast. As expected from Marlon's top men.
"This is where they stopped for a good shit and piss", said one of the knights mockingly.
"And to regain their strength. Their mules must be at their limits by now", added general Carlan.
"They are getting tired, that's good. The storm is doing its toll on them as well. Come on lads, let's catch these rats", said the constable as the whole troop screamed and laughed savagely. Not so far from the constable and his men, the mules refused to advance. Their worn out old bodies could not keep up with the intensity of the escape, and the storm just made things worse. Thick mud stalled their steps, and the cold shattered their fragile strength. Lighting strings are starting to shock the sky and thunder is rumbling the land under the villagers' feet. It's close to hitting its apex. The villagers grew furious and anxious, their escape plan slowly falling apart. They took too many trivial things with them, and have not fed their mules well, not that it mattered anyway in such a weather.
"Landon! The damn animals won't move", screamed a bunch of them.
"We're stuck here! What should we do?", their complaining and screaming carried on.
They had every right to complain and panic. Their mules stopped advancing while their executors were catching up fast to them. Landon too started panicking, this situation is unsalvageable, the only solution was to continue on foot.
"Leave the damn mules here, and leave your things. We will take turns riding the horse with the women and children as priority. Let's move, now! We cannot let them close in on us".
Landon's speech gave the villagers the moral boost they needed. They did as he ordered and continued their escape. Doctor Landon proved to be a good leader, the deacon's faith in him proved to be true. Every time he spoke, he brought life and hope into the poor peasants' hearts. He was their beating engine that kept them going. Deep down all of them are feeling grateful to him. The deacon destroyed the village, and the doctor restored it. Slowly but steadily, the group started to move, taking turns on riding the doctor's horse. The storm is growing bigger but their determination to leave all the mess behind kept them moving. It's the elders' turn now on the horse. Landon helps one of the old villagers up on the saddle, then leads the horse, with Margery walking beside him.
"I can't thank you enough, Landon, you held these folk back together. I know I've been harsh on ya, we all were, but it's all for the good of the village"
"Ah it's nothing Richard, all forgiven. I'm just doing what I always swore to do, help the village in any way I cou—".
Before the doctor could answer the old man, an arrow pierces the poor villager's left eye, with its pointy end traversing the skull and carrying the eye socket making his whole body lean back and dangle off the horse. Landon realised at that moment that they had been found. He always had the uneasy feeling that something was catching up to them at a steady pace, yet he could not afford to spook the already shaken villagers.
"Everyone, duck your heads! They have found us", screamed Landon with the top of his lungs.
Landon grabs Margery and the both of them duck under the horse, waiting for another arrow. The others, as frightened as they were, could not hold still, and started running in all directions. Another arrow hits, then another, then another. Each arrow downing a body till they stacked upon each other. A handful survived, but not for long, as the shadow of the constable and his dreadful army looming in the horizon.
At that moment, Margery could not contain her tears. She was trembling like a feather. Her people were picked apart like rodents, falling one after the other, and it was her turn next. Landon holds her closer to him, shedding a tear himself. He could not protect the daughter of his dear dead friend, he could not protect the people deacon Andres entrusted to him. It's all over.
The constable and his men arrive at the scene. They marched towards what's left of the village, trampling the dead bodies with their steeds' hooves. He looks down at the cowering survivors.
"Raise your heads, you are in the presence of the governor of Bloomheaven", said the constable with a prideful tone.
Landon slowly raises his head, Margery in his embrace.
"Please, I beg of you, spare the children. And her"
The constable steps off his saddle, leans in toward the crying girl, and brushes her hair with his fingers.
""Such pretty eyes... a pity I'm gutting all of you tonight"
"No you can't do this", screamed Landon, "She is innocent in all of this, it was I who took in the purgers and convinced the deacon they were no threat. I nursed them back to health, I'm the village's doctor you see".
A silence looms over them, broken only by the thunder and the heavy rain.
"What is your name"
"Landon, my lord"
"You're a brave man, Landon. For that I shall grant you your wish"
The constable nods to his men, who raise their swords and slaughter the remaining of the villagers, women and children alike. A blood bath coated with dreadful mercilessness and a thirst for murder. Landon almost loses his mind over the brutality of those monsters. What the deacon warned of proved to be worse than anyone's expectation. He feels sick to his stomach, chest tightening and tears running down his shivering old face. And yet, he still held on to Margery, preventing her from witnessing the horror.
"Why?", cried Landon. Why indeed. Why is the constable going out of his way, gathering his mightiest men to slaughter a bunch of powerless peasants.
"Why you ask? I enjoy it. I really do", replied the constable coldly. "Nothing better than putting rats back to their rightful place. Your deacon, disrespected me, ignored my orders and cursed me. How can such a lowly creature be allowed to infringe the law and not be punished for it?"
"But we didn't do anything, these poor souls never did anything, they were innocent! How can you sleep at night knowing that you robbed good folk from their right to live?"
"I sleep just fine, Landon. Blood never stains my sheets"
He gets behind him and puts his hands on the doctor's shoulders.
"What about the purgers?"
"May the gods dam–"
The constable plunges a knife in his right shoulder and wiggles it. "What about the purgers". Landon screams from the pain yet holding Margery as tight as he could.
A voice from under Landon speaks, "I..I will tell you about them"
"Margery no"
"It's fine doctor, they are here for the purgers after all", whispers Margery. Or so she thought.
"And what do we have here, the charming beauty has finally decided to grace us with her voice. Please go on."
Margery tells him about the purgers, how they look like, what armor they wear, what weapons they wield. Any little detail she picked on when she observed the two men back at the inn. She mentions their injuries and how they fought the higher incubus for hours.
"Fearful men I assure you", said the constable, his hand still wiggling the knife plunged in Landon's shoulder. "My search party is doomed to fail then, shame".
The man was right, back at Bloom forest, bodies were torn apart, heads decapitated, Murdokian armor shattered and sprinkled on the ground. Bronn's body split in half with worms gathering on his intestines. The search party succeeded partially, they found the purgers. Bringing them marked their failure.
Constable Marlon pats on Landon's head and takes out the knife from his shoulder and grazes his neck with it.
"The purgers will eventually show themselves to me, I know it. As for you, your deacon should have kept his gaze to the ground".
He slices Landon's neck, his blood flooding the cowering Margery still in his embrace. She screams and wails, her end has prematurely come. It wasn't about the purgers and how she helped them, the man before her simply enjoyed the killing and the blood. Her and her village were caught in a bigger conflict, where monsters rule. A conflict of obedience and power, of submission and authority. Marlon closes her mouth with his hand. She takes a final look at him and all she sees is a cold cruel smile. This is her end. He slices off her neck with the same bloody knife. She falls to the ground a corpse. With rain drowning her and washing off her blood.