“What are they doing down there?” said Falt, staring down at the village from a rock a way back.

“Looks like they’re gathering for some sort of council”, said Stiel, and patted his restless horse. He saw that well enough from the horseback. “What do you reckon?”

“I don’t know”, said Falt slowly, “but I’d like to find out. I’ll go down first and see what’s going on.”

Stiel raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He’d come to trust the man, he was harmless, and this little trip to the village of Qaiel had assured him that Falt had indeed been a victim of the circumstances during the ambush at his Stand.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll be back before sundown”, said Falt, dropped from the rock, and skidded down the slope towards the village.

Stiel dismounted, gave his horse a friendly pat, and then sat down with his back against one of those supposedly remains of that great mountain of giants. He sighed, looked at the sky and guessed that there were just over three hours worth of day left, then the darkness would start to sneak in. Plenty of time for Falt to get down and back.

He had a feeling, a disturbing feeling that something was wrong. Maybe he was wrong about Falt, or maybe it was something else.

Perhaps I’m just worried, he thought, about the Stand. Time is running out, a steady stream of hours and days, pouring away from me.

Sitting by the big moss-covered rock, almost nodding off, the glory of the Moranian Knights felt very far away.

***

Day turned to dusk, and Stiel was nearing Qaiel. Falt hadn’t returned, and the green-haired knight didn’t want to wait any longer. Besides, he still had that bad feeling, a growing one in his stomach. It was shared by his horse, who snorted and felt skittish.

Qaiel was a modest village, he knew that from his travels to the lowlands and the Windy Bridge that was his Stand, but now it seemed almost deserted. It was really just one dusty street, and some scattered one-story buildings. Simple dwellings for simple people, he thought, as he entered the small village.

“There he is!” a man screamed from a distance. The dusk was making it hard to see him, but he was a way in front of him, perhaps lurking in a doorway.

“Get him!” another man bellowed.

From the houses, five men emerged, all bearing pitchforks and clubs, advancing menacingly from the front.

“What is this nonsense?” snarled Stiel, and laid his hand on his sword.

“It’s payback time!” came a voice from behind, and Stiel knew who it was before he turned his head.

The burly thug from the other day stood there, spiked club in hand, and with him his companion.

“You killed my mate”, the thug bellowed, “and you killed poor Falt in cold blood, who just wanted to trade with you!” The thug then seemed to address his fellow villagers rather than him: “And all we wanted was to trade! Not fight! This so-called knight takes his rites too seriously! Will you kill a curious child next?”

“Liar!” roared Stiel, but he knew he was talking to deaf ears on this one. They may be gullible farmers and hunters, but they were outnumbering him, with five closing in on him, and another two behind him.

Still, vengeance was at hand, so Stiel violently turned his mount and thundered towards the two thugs, who barely got out of the way, cursing.

The thoughts were racing through the green-haired man’s head, as he galloped out of the village, chased only by taunts and curses from the villagers. Had they killed Falt? He still didn’t believe the poor man had been in on it, if he had he’d been in the ambush. So where was he? Dead or alive?

Alive seemed the more likely choice. There was no reason to really kill him, the thugs could scare him to silence for sure, they obviously had a strong hold on both him and the village.

Stiel made up his mind. “I’m a knight”, he whispered to the twilight, slowed down his horse and dropped from its back.

With his sword in his hand, and the shield on his back, Stiel darted from cover to cover, back towards Qaiel.

If nothing else, vengeance would be at hand.