Quoted By:
“Pah! All a man needs to sustain him is a little fire in his belly! Righteous hatred for a worthy foe can warm a man during the coldest night and keep the fiercest hunger at bay. Remember this, Naruq! Remember the word of the Sword Saint and make way! Make way!”
Radan just shakes his head in disbelief as the two of you take your leave. Thankfully, the old man doesn't resume his hollering – despite his words, he's likely going to spend that coin you gave him on something to eat. By the time that you rejoin Janos on the road, the half-breed bailiff looks more than a little frustrated, with an equally annoyed farmer standing at his side.
“About time, sergeant. Do you have any idea how much time you wasted on that fool?”
“Watch your tone and have some respect for your elders,” you snap back at him. “You can make an old man's day, just by giving him just a few minutes of your time. Now, what's the problem?”
“It's a band of drifters, officer, I think they're Alik'ri.” The exasperated farmer is all too happy to vent about his troubles, now that you're here. “The savages arrived on my land in the middle of the day, they've set up their rain catcher on the field where I grow my lentils. When I asked them to leave my land, they just looked at me like I was mad. One of them even drew her sword and chased me off!”
“Finally, a little excitement,” Janos remarks. “I'm ready to teach these desert rats some manners.” His words stoke some anger in your heart, but you don't reprimand Janos for them. It would be a waste of breath.
Instead, you follow the farmer down the road, further away from the city. You've easily walked half a mile by the time that you arrive at his farm, though it hardly seems worthy of the name. A lonely hut can be seen by the road's edge, surrounded by fields of dry, sandy soil. Some sprouts seem to growing out of the tilled earth, but they're not very impressive. In the middle of one of these fields, you see them – half a dozen figures that surround a strange structure. It looks almost like an inverted tent, several sheets of tarred canvas loosely hanging between a series of poles. The fearful farmer keeps his distance, while you and your men approach the nomads.
“You are trespassing on the private land of an Imperial citizen!” You try to speak as loudly and clearly as Ulbazar did and sure enough, the travellers turn their heads to face you. “To make matters worse, you threatened him with physical violence! You have one chance to move on, or we will have no choice but to forcibly remove you from this property!”
“I made no such threat,” one of them says. In the Alik'ri fashion, she has covered her face and most of her body in billowing fabric, loose and light enough to remain cool, but just thick enough to protect her from the sun. “I simply did this and the coward ran away, with his tail between his legs.” Sure enough, she draws the slender sabre that hangs by her side.
