MEANWHILE, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BEE-HUMAN CONFLICT, THERE WAS A MAN LUCKY ENOUGH TO STILL HAVE HIS VISION.
His name was Zash Meresh. A few days ago, he led his small mercenary warband to this tiny village in search of a place to "borrow" some food from.
Lowering themselves to small robbery when mercenary contracts ran dry was nothing new, and this part of their kingdom was so remote, the villagers probably didn't see a tax collector or a guardsman for years.
Who knew that the place would be under an attack of malevolent forest spirits?
Now the entire warband was tied like pigs and stuffed in some shed, and it was only the unwillingness of the locals to stain their hands with the sin of murder that kept the mercenaries alive when they were blind and helpless.
Even Zash, who was lucky enough to keep his eyesight, couldn't avoid several extremely painful stings.
