The next day, they finally reached the marsh and stopped to look at it: the waters were covered here and there with patches of moss and aquatic plants and a thin film of mist floated above it. "We are nearly there: the village lies beyond the marsh", Osmund said. "What's the plan?", Mold asked. "Identify the heretic, get him and cage him", Ulric answered as if it was obvious.

"We can't bring the cage there", Dalywag noted, gesturing to their cart, which would no doubt end up stuck if they tried to cross the marsh with it, even if it was dragged by two strong bovines. Silence fell for a brief moment as Ulric glared at the swamp as if it had personally offended him, his eyes narrowed to slits of ice and steel, "Then we will leave it behind and drag him here!" he growled, irritated with the inconvenience.

Jan quietly cleared his throat, "Uh, not trying to be a nuisance here…". "That would be the first time in your life", Sarevok commented with a small amused grin and the Gnome shot him an unimpressed look. "Har har. As I was saying, this swamp is a bit too deep for me. I will need a lift", he said, staring pointedly at the Deathbringer. "And why are you looking at me?". "You're the tallest here, Binky, so if I ride on your shoul-". "No". "But…". "No. Ask again and I will drown you in this filthy water with my own hands".

Meg chuckled, "It's okay, big brother, I'll carry him", she said, kneeling down to let the Gnome climb on her shoulders like a child, "Hold on tight, but please don't tear out my hair". "Don't worry, Your Loveliness, I would never damage such precious tresses! Why, as my great-great-uncle Ludwig Jansen always said…", Jan cut himself off as he caught Ulric's gaze, a gaze that promised horrifying pain if he said another word, "Nevermind".

The group began crossing the disgusting swamp, Ulric at the head of the line and the others following him closely as they tried not to throw up at the stench and the sickening sound of the murky water sloshing around them, it felt like walking through pudding and it was not a nice feeling by any means. After twenty endless minutes, they finally reached the other side, Meg let Jan down and they all cleaned themselves as best as they could with some rags, though it didn't help all that much.

"Eeeeewww", Imoen grimaced, "It's worse than when we had to walk through the sewers in Baldur's Gate!". "At least there were no carrion crawlers roaming around in the swamp", Meg comforted her. "Yeah, no, I wouldn't bet on it: I felt something brush my leg at some point and I'm pretty sure it was not a log", the pink-haired thief replied, making her long-time companions chuckle.

The group walked for a few minutes in the mercifully clean and grassy glade, passed a narrow bridge above a river and reached their destination, the village that was rumored to have been spared by the plague for no discernible reason.

The place, surrounded by a tall and sturdy fence, was completely silent and quiet, but it was an odd kind of quiet, the kind that usually precedes a violent thunderstorm. A girl saw them and scurried away and some of the villagers peeked at the newcomers from the windows or doorways, suspicion and wariness etched on their faces. "This place gives me the creeps", Imoen whispered at her sister, who nodded and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

The silence was getting deafening as they reached the small square, the villagers seeming to surround them and the mercenaries getting ready to draw their weapons in response. What made the village even odder was that there were no children in sight anywhere: the youngest people living there were already in their late teens. A short, bald and stocky man approached the group, eyeing them carefully, "What brings you to our village?", he asked, his gaze fixing first on Sarevok and then on Ulric, not knowing which of the two was in charge.

"We seek refuge", Ulric lied, discarding his usual cold and sharp tone for a (marginally) kinder one, "A place to rest and nothing more". The shorter man smiled, though it was painfully obvious that it was fake, "Then you are welcome", he said, walking forward and offering his right hand to shake, "My name is Hobb". The envoy to the bishop shot a quick look at his men and then moved his sword to his left in order to shake Hobb's hand, "I am Ulric". "Were you attacked?". He nodded, "In the forest".

"You did the right thing in coming here, this forest can be quite dangerous", Hobb said and his gaze fixed on Osmund for some reason, before he once more looked at the leader of the group, "Can I ask what you were doing there?". "We were bringing comfort to those who suffer", Ulric lied and the other man couldn't really hide his skepticism, shooting a quick but pointed glance at their weapons. "Comfort? From what?", he asked, frowning. "The spreading of the plague. Did you not get word of it?", the terrestrial knight replied.

"Only rumors", the villager said in a careless tone, smiling again, then he walked away and made a gesture, "Come with me". As soon as he was out of earshot, Wolfstan approached his leader, "What's going on?", he asked in a low voice, gripping his shield more tightly. "Let us play along for now. We must be shrewd to unmask the necromancers", Ulric said, then stared at each of his men as his tone hardened, "No one acts unless I say so", he ordered, sheathing his sword.

They all followed Hobb, who was all smiles. "Tonight we will give you food and a place to rest. Tomorrow we will escort you to a safe part of the forest", he said pleasantly, his fake friendly demeanor making Sekhmet's fingers itch with the desperate need to fireball him into oblivion: he reminded her too much of some people she had met in her homeland, where intrigue, assassination and dirty work were an everyday thing. Meg, Imoen and Anomen, for their part, had a sudden reminiscence about their time in Ust Natha: this village had the same air of hidden danger as the Drow city and that was saying something.

"Are we not welcome here anymore?", Ulric asked their host, throwing his earlier words back at him. Hobb stopped, "Of course you are. But why should you stay?", he simply said, resuming his walk. They arrived to the docks, where a woman was washing her clothes, though she quickly rinsed them, grabbed them and left as soon as she saw the group. "Here are the buckets, you need to wash yourselves", Hobb said and while the ladies found his words insulting, they couldn't deny that he was right: their walk in the swamp had left its smelly, slimy mark after all.

"The women will go first", Ulric decided and he and the rest of the males moved out of sight while Meg, Imoen and Sekhmet undressed and washed themselves as best as they could before putting on their spare clean clothes. The men then took their turn, but while they were taking their weapons off, a pale woman with long blond hair wearing a light blue cotton dress walked up to them, bringing Hobb and two girls along.

"Welcome to our village. My name is Langiva, I will treat your wounds", she said with a smile and Dalywag shot her a lewd grin. "And I will treat yours", he replied, making her smile disappear. "We have no need for your assistance", Ulric replied sharply, "Our wounds have already been healed by the women travelling with us".

She pressed her lips in a thin line, obviously pissed off at his dismissal, then she nodded at the girls and turned on her heels, leaving at a quick pace and Hobb followed her like a lost puppy. "Looks like you upset the bitch", Sarevok smirked, amused. "If she turns out to be a witch, I will do much worse than just upset her", the bishop's envoy replied with a shrug as he finished undressing.

After they were all clean and clothed again, the men rejoined the ladies and they all climbed on a sort of ferry boat, which was little more than a large piece of wood with a rope tied across the stream. On the other side, they found a small church and Ulric, Sekhmet, Meg, Anomen and Osmund got inside out of instinct. The place was obviously abandoned, judging from the cobwebs scattered around, the thick layer of dust and the stench of mold.

Ulric looked around, he seemed both suspicious and disappointed, "This church has not seen worship for a long while", he noted, picking up a cross made of braided branches and placing it on the altar with decision, as if that simple gesture could restore the place to its former glory.

"It's a disgrace that they would leave it to fall to ruin", Sekhmet commented with a grimace, "Where I come from, we would never do anything like this! Our churches are always kept clean by the acolytes, there are statues and tapestries to celebrate the glory of our Lord, while here…It's…It's a shame". Meg nodded, "The churches where I come from may not be luxurious or fancy, but we do our best to keep them clean at least", she agreed, "Even if it's not always easy".

"Why not?", Osmund asked, curious. "We open the church to those in need of shelter, food and healing", she said with a smile, "It's our sacred duty to help those who have no other place to go and nobody else to turn to. Some say that our churches are more like broom closets full of beggars and wh**es, but so what? They are people like anyone else and they need someone to care for them and help them just like anyone else".

Sekhmet nodded, "Amen to that", she agreed: even if she was a Kossuthan, she too tried her best to help those who needed it, mostly because growing up in Thay had taught her how ruthless and unfair life could be and she had become more compassionate because of it. Ulric shot her a small but warm smile, "It is admirable of you to want to help those in need", he said as he walked out with her, their hands brushing together, bringing a small blush to their cheeks. When they reached the dock, they saw two girls, a blonde and a brunette, approaching Swire and Dalywag with clean clothes.

The torturer shot the ladies one of his disgusting grins, "Will you keep us warm tonight, young ones?", he asked as they put the clothes down. The girls ignored him with disgusted grimaces and then shot a flirty smile at the younger and definitely more attractive Swire, but he ignored them in turn. Thing is, Swire wanted to get the mission over with fast, so that he could go home to his wife and children at last: he had only accepted to join this goddamned journey to earn the money to feed his family and he wasn't interested in some creepy village sl*t.

Ulric frowned as his keen eyes noticed something on the blond girl and he quickly walked up to her, "Child", he called. She shot him a questioning look, but before she could even speak a word, he grabbed her pendant and violently ripped it from her neck, making her let out a startled gasp. He looked at it more closely and his frown deepened: the pendant was circular and had a small cross with a black outline engraved in the centre, surrounded by an outer ring of black drops.

"I-I found it", finding herself on the receiving end of his glare, the girl tried to justify herself, even if she didn't really know why he was so mad at her. "Where?". "In the marsh", she answered with a shaky voice, then she hurried to get on the ferry and left with her friend, who rubbed her back comfortingly. "Every village we passed through has its graveyards full", Ulric said as he clenched the pendant, "Yet here there are no graves, no burnt bodies…". "We can't damn them just because they suffered no losses", Osmund shot back, still a bit shaken by his leader's seemingly unjustified hostility.

"A group of men was sent here for our same task. Four men, they never returned. They were led by a man like myself", the knight replied, showing them the pendant, which was a perfect replica of the one he wore and that he took out of his shirt, "This symbol is worn only by the bishop's envoy".

Silence fell at those words and the meaning behind them, until Sarevok broke it. "If these creeps think they can take yours the same way, they don't know who they're messing with", he stated and Ulric gave him a grateful nod.