With the sword in hand, the exile kept heading in the one direction, the direction that lead past the knight, the direction that he hoped would end him up somewhere that he could find out where he was. He was wondering, if he were to find people, would they shoot and ask questions later, or would they give him 10 seconds to speak? He was not expecting a friendly welcome. A place where knights get slashed across the chest, is probably a place where its hard for people to trust eachother. The Exile took the dead knight’s sword for protection, would it label him a hostile, a raider? a marauder perhaps? would this sword he took for his defense, destroy him? He figured he would have other things to worry about, that perhaps he should worry about his next meal, or where he will sleep, but as much as he tried to refocus his mind, he could not help but think about the natives of this land.

Eventually the exile came upon a village, this was not a peaceful village where villagers would run around day to day doing their daily chores, it might have been a village like this once, if it wasn’t burning and there wasnt dead bodies piled around the ground, merchants without heads, women and children without eyes, They were more knights with eagle symbols on their crests, they were afew lying around, with blades lying to the sides. Silence was the only thing in the air, the exile looked upon this act of violence and slaughter, with unmoving calm eyes. Considering his history, it wasn’t like this was the first time he saw something like this. The Exile then heard footsteps, small creaky footsteps, followed by a small creaky voice ” typically we  conduct business with a Mr. Smith but seeing as how he is sitting there with his arms cut off, I think a business transaction between the both of us will be impossible.” The Exile turned to see, an old woman with a trade cart, and a bow in her hand, with quiver full of arrows on her back, she wore a white robe with a hood, although the hood was tucked back to reveal long gray hair, and a wrinkled face.

” What Army are you from boy?” she asked

” I belong to no army” said the exile

” what place do you call your home” the woman asked

” I have no home” said the exile

” Where do you sleep?” the woman asked

” I have no place to sleep” said the exile

” would you like a place to sleep?” the woman asked

” I would” said the exile

The old woman pointed at a stack of crates sitting at the corner of a burned house.

” I don’t know where your from, I don’t know why you are here, I don’t know who you fight or who you fought for, but frankly at this point I can’t say that I care, I need those crates on my cart and if you can handle that simple task, then maybe I will provide you with a place to sleep.”

The Exile had little choice, in reality he had plenty of choices, he could have slashed this frail old woman to pieces, but considering that he had no idea who she was, or who she was involved with, he figured from past experience that he should trust this old woman and take on her little task.

Crate, by crate the exile stacked them on this woman’s cart, these crates were heavy, and the exile sighed with relief once the stacking had finished.

“get on the cart” said the old woman

” we can discuss our history on our way there”