Before him stood three frightened farmers. They wore crude brown hemp clothes, their bodies marked by sweat and the dark tan of long days in the sun, their skin sunburned red and peeling.
One held a pitchfork, while the other two clutched hoes. It was one of these farmers who had shouted at Renato moments earlier.
They looked like villagers from nearby, and they did not seem particularly well-off.
Apart from the urban poor in the slums, did anyone in the south still wear hemp clothes these days? Renato frowned as he studied their clothing.
More than that, none of the three even had a decent pair of leather shoes. Even beggars in the slums did not walk barefoot along the roads.
The tall warrior's silent scrutiny alone had already left all three trembling, the hands holding the pitchfork shaking violently.
Renato strongly suspected that if he took a single step forward, these villagers would turn and flee in terror.
"I am Renato of the Fernando Family. I happened to pass through here after losing my way." He tried to relax his voice and keep his tone gentle. "What is going on here? Where is your lord?"
The three villagers exchanged glances. After a moment's hesitation, they finally lowered their farm tools. The villager who seemed to be their leader reached over and smacked the somewhat slow-witted farmer beside him. Only after the man belatedly withdrew his pitchfork did the leader cautiously rub his hands together and bow obsequiously.
"My lord from afar, please be generous and forgive us. We're all honest farmers. We heard a loud crash just now, then saw a dark shape in the field. We thought those long-eared black devils had come killing again, so we rushed over and ended up offending you..."
Renato could tell