"You smell bad," Khaos stated bluntly.
The monk did not react to the insult. He simply looked up at the boy, his blind eyes seeming to pierce right through the wooden defenses.
"I have walked across three broken continents," the monk spoke. His voice was raspy, dry, and ancient. "I am Brother Silas of the Atrai Kingdom. And I have come to issue a warning."
Down in the square, the heavy wooden doors of the tavern burst open. Borum charged out into the dirt street. The massive Village Chief carried his heavy, double-bladed hunting axe. Throm the blacksmith and several other villagers followed closely behind him, their faces tense and ready for a fight.
"Atrai?" Borum rumbled loudly, stepping right to the front of the gates. "The golden kings of Atrai have ignored this valley for three hundred years. We pay no taxes to your crown. We follow no laws of your courts. Why is an Atrai monk standing at my gates?"
