Trian was stood in the centre of a wide semi-circle of people, hands bound behind his back with cutting twine. He looked imploringly from person to person, a crowd composed of both members of the Families and ordinary villagers. The two classes were ignoring ideas of status and social position in their efforts to get a better view of what was occurring.

Across from the half-circle of villagers were the refugees, all standing, those at the front hefting crude weapons made from whatever materials they could find. The glares on the faces of those at the front told Rial enough to know that things had only got worse since the night he had escaped.

The Kotaku stood in his robes facing directly at Trian, and through him towards the outsiders.

“This man broke our rules and aided a prisoner of the village,” intoned the Kotaku. None of the madness Rial had heard within the courtyard was apparent; only the authority and command the man was used to holding.

“Prisoner?” shouted Trian. His outburst drew hisses from the villagers. “Since when have we held… prisoners? Since when have we starved and tortured our own? Since when...?”

“…since our village became filled with those who would do it harm,” said the Kotaku, cutting off Trian’s words.

An angered mumbling crossed the crowd of refugees; the Kotaku’s eyes had turned on them as he spoke.

“He saved us! He saved the village, as we should be saving those who come to us for aid!” cried Trian.

“You will NOT interrupt again,” said the Kotaku, raising a hand.

Two bulky men stepped forwards and raised sword-tips to Trian’s throat. Rial hardly knew the two; a pair of huntsmen not associated with the First Family. Now it appeared they were the Kotaku’s bodyguard. Hierarchies and traditions had been shifting in many areas, it seemed.

“I brought the child back,” rasped Trian. One blade pushed deeper into his skin, a trickle of blood running from beneath the tip and down his neck.

“They killed her!” came a cry from somewhere within the mass of villagers, followed by a stream of low-voiced assent.

“The khiladri…” whispered Trian.

The second huntsman, the one who had not cut Trian’s neck, kicked hard at the back of the prisoner’s leg, sending him tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain. The first gave a swift kick to Trian’s ribs, winding him.

Rial, watching from his hiding place amongst the vegetation surrounding the square, was shocked. He had never seen such violence from his fellows. He struggled to peer through the mist that poured in increasingly thick.

“Father! Stop this!” came a female cry.

Rial hadn’t seen Tamarla there, standing close to her father. She grabbed at his robes, and Rial gasped in shock as the Kotaku knocked her away with an open hand. Concerned villagers reached down to help her stand, pulling her away. She disappeared into the crowd.

“It wasn’t them,” coughed Trian. “It was the khiladri.”

The Kotaku raised a hand again, stopping the two huntsmen from delivering further blows.

“The mountains protect us,” he said, robes trailing behind him as he walked over to look down at the prostrate Trian. “The khiladri protect us. We will find the one who killed the girl, however.”

The Kotaku turned and faced the gathered villagers, raising his hand to the sky as he spoke.

“This man refuses to speak the truth,” he announced. “He has repeatedly defied the will of the village, and now he protects murderers against his own people.”

Angered shouts echoed over the square, swallowed by the mist.

“Rial.”

Rial shushed Mead, hanging from his shoulder above the damp leaves.

“The punishment was to be exile,” the Kotaku continued.

Now the madness returned to his voice.

“However, that punishment was for freeing the traitor, whereas a far graver offence has been committed here…”

“Rial.”

“Quiet, Mead,” Rial whispered back.

“…calling for the most serious punishment.”

The Kotaku nodded at one of the huntsman, who raised his sword above Trian’s neck.

Everything happened in the next few seconds.

Rial leapt out of the bushes with a cry, drawing his sword from its sheath as he charged towards the would-be executioner.

The Kotaku’s hands dropped, giving the signal to cut Trian’s neck.

A stone flew from the crowd of villagers towards the outsiders, sending one to the floor.

And Rial heard Mead’s urgent whisper over it all.

“The khiladri are coming.”