The fat man led Eric and his group all the way to the only surviving building in the center of the village—the Church.
In truth, it hadn't been intentionally spared. A large section of its front wall was blackened. It was the only brick building in the entire village; the arsonists had probably left in a hurry, not bothering to check the effect of their fire, which is how it managed to survive.
Eric entered the chapel. About two dozen raggedly dressed men were holed up inside, likely the other villagers.
One of them, a middle-aged man with a braided beard, stood up, gripping the axe at his side as he eyed Eric's group warily.
"Itamar, what are you doing?"
"Relax, Elman. If they were hostile, they would have made their move already. Besides, what do you think we have left to be taken, other than our lives?" Itamar shrugged nonchalantly.
As Itamar finished speaking, a wave of laughter rippled through the surrounding villagers, and they began to chatter amongst themselves.
