The young farmers who had fled earlier finally arrived at the King's palace, weary and shaken. They recounted their harrowing encounter with the beast, describing in vivid detail how they had barely escaped with their lives. In their innocence, they believed the King would show understanding — that he would listen, reason with them, and perhaps even offer protection. But they had yet to learn the true nature of the man who sat on the throne.
The king, still unconvinced by the young farmer's account of a beast attack, dispatched a group of soldiers back to the land to investigate the incident for themselves. Though the boys swore by what they saw, the king believed the flying—beasts had long been declared extinct. He saw the story as nothing more than a desperate lie to mask an act of treason. Without a second thought, and without granting any chance for explanation, he ordered their execution. Their families received no justice—only the cold return of lifeless bodies.
At first, the community lay in peaceful silence, its morning calm unbroken. But soon, that stillness gave way to the sound of grief—an overwhelming tide of weeping that swept through every home and street. The king's soldiers had arrived, grim and wordless, disposing of the lifeless bodies of the young farmers—none of them even twenty. Their families watched in horror, helpless as sorrow took over the land. Grief became the language of the day.
Without wasting a moment, the King's soldiers began recruiting new farmers—by force. They dragged young men from their homes, some not even eighteen, ignoring the cries of their families. The King's fields had to be tended, no matter the cost. And now, short of workers—because he had slaughtered the last—he cared only that the farming must continue
They rode away in a wooden carriage alongside the newly recruited youths, leaving behind a community drowned in sorrow and silence.
Meanwhile, Agor and Rey, who had witnessed the entire scene at the King's land, were still frozen in shock over what had just happened. But soon, the distant sound of galloping hooves reached their ears, growing louder with each passing second. Without hesitation, they scrambled for cover, hiding themselves among the thick brush.
The soldiers gazed upon the blood-stained field, the scent of death thick in the air. Though the evidence clearly pointed to a beastly slaughter, they knew all too well the nature of their king—unyielding, cruel, and unwilling to entertain anything he deemed foolish. To tell him the farmers had fallen to a beast, especially when he believed such creatures extinct, could cost them their lives. So, driven by fear and desperation, they devised a plan to cover up the truth, weaving a lie that might spare their heads.
As soon as the soldiers disappeared from sight, Agor and Rey emerged cautiously from their hiding place. Uncertainty clouded their minds, unsure of where to go next. After a brief moment of hesitation, they decided to return to the farmers' quarters—the only place they had known as home.
Upon arriving, they were met with an eerie silence. The air was still, heavy with uncertainty. They believed that some of the farmers might have escaped the beast's attack, and if so, the farmers' quarter was the only place they could have gone—no one was permitted entry into the King's palace.
They were both uneasy staying at the farmers' quarter, the air thick with fear and the lingering scent of death. Desperation pushing them beyond reason, they made a bold decision—to sneak into the King's palace. They knew the risk; it could cost them their lives. Still, they went anyway, their faces wrapped in cloth, the bloodstains on their clothes yet to dry, silent reminders of the horror they had narrowly escaped.
On their way to the King's palace, Agor and Rey walked in heavy silence. Not a single word passed between them. With their faces partially concealed beneath blood-stained cloth, they kept their heads low, avoiding the gaze of every passerby. The risk of being recognized—or worse, caught—was far too great.
They were already nearing the King's palace when whispers began to reach their ears—rumors that the farmers who had initially escaped had been executed by the King's command. At first, they kept walking, brushing the talk aside. But as the same grim tale echoed from different mouths, the weight of it made them pause. A silent understanding passed between them: it wasn't worth the risk. Without a word, they turned and began the quiet journey back to the farmers quarter.
After several minutes of walking, they finally arrived at the farmers' quarter. But they knew it wouldn't be long before the King's soldiers showed up. Without wasting time, they came up with a plan—to escape and return to their families before it was too late.
They took nothing with them—not even a few belongings—for carrying anything might raise suspicion. Leaving everything behind, they quietly began their journey.