"Hello, young lady. Would it be too much to ask for a drink?"

The girl he addressed was no more than sixteen and dressed in a modest but well-tailored dress. She was likely the daughter of the farmer, rather than one of the farmhands. He had been hoping to make a slightly less direct arrival, but his foul luck ensured that he was greeted by one of the household. At least the girl, with her big brown eyes and dull face, might not make more of his presence than he wished her to.

"Of course," the girl said, cheerfully skipping across the yard until she was in front of him. "We always are gracious to our guests. Please, feel free to draw from our well. I'll run inside for a cup."

She made a quick gesture towards the well by the edge of the fields, then sprang into the house, as eager as a little rabbit. Jerod could barely keep from laughing at the simpleness of these people. They knew so little of the way of the world. What did he have to fear of being discovered?

He walked to the well, casually as possible so that no onlookers might suspect anything out of the ordinary. He drew up some water. Might as well take a drink while he still could, he reasoned. Besides, it would keep them from suspecting.

Once he had refreshed himself with the clear, cool water, he slipped the small packet of powder from his pocket.

War didn't spare anyone.

Especially not those who sowed the crops of the enemy.

Tearing the packet open as carefully as possible so that none of the powder was lost, Jerod held it over the well. The acrid stench of the poison almost overwhelmed him, even at arms-length. He would hate to be one of these farmers. Even if they did deserve it for supporting the Rillens.

Suddenly, he remembered that the girl had said she would bring back a cup. She had been in the farmhouse long enough to get a whole basket of cups, but she hadn't come back yet. Jerod wondered why.

He got his answer with the sharp point of a blade at his throat.