Oldred did not leave immediately. Inside the slaughterhouse, now silent save for the dripping of blood, he moved with the efficiency of a soldier arming himself on the battlefield. First, he walked to the door, where the meat cleaver was still defiantly embedded. With a single, powerful pull, he wrenched it from the groaning wood. He examined its sharp edge under the flickering lantern light, feeling its deadly balance.
Then, his eyes fell upon a large hammer lying near a workbench. This was no ordinary hammer. It was a giant meat tenderizer, a war hammer disguised as a kitchen tool. Its head was far larger, heavier, and wider than a common mallet, its surface studded with blunt spikes designed to crush bone. Beside it sat a rotting barrel that emitted a horrific, sour stench. Its contents were... "pig feed"? At least, that's what was scrawled on the page of a filthy recipe book lying open next to it, with a list of ingredients that would make a normal person's stomach churn. Oldred only glanced at it briefly before taking the heavy hammer. Its wooden handle was slick with grease.
He stepped out of the slaughterhouse, moving from that small, foul-smelling hell into a cold purgatory. The silent, biting night wind immediately hit him, making his military coat flutter and the brim of his hat tremble. The air outside felt sharp and clean, a relief after the dense atmosphere within. The forest surrounding the village stood like a wall of darkness, utterly silent, devoid of the sound of crickets or any other normal nightlife.
With a practiced motion, he concealed both of his new weapons beneath his thick military coat. The cleaver's handle was tucked behind his back, while he hooked the heavy hammer to his belt, hidden yet easily within reach. Once his arsenal was secure, he briefly removed his military cap. With a few short, firm pats, he knocked away the dust and filth of the slaughterhouse that clung to it, before setting it snugly back on his head. It was a small movement, an almost unconscious ritual—a soldier readjusting his uniform, wiping away the traces of the battle just fought, and preparing for the next.