You hear something

It took you awhile to get your breath back, but you have to soldier on. After all, the people in the village knew Doneti was heading down this road to find you and who knows how long it is till they send someone else. You throw away the dress smeared with both Doneti's dried cum and blood. As you change your dress, you really wish you had brought another pair of shoes. Apparently, even a man's head can contain quite a bit of blood.

Finally, after a half hour of cleaning you've come to a problem that, to be entirely honest, you never expected to have to deal with on your travels. How exactly do you dispose of this fat bastard's body? You attempted to carry it a bit farther off the open grass to an area behind a bush, but you could barely lift it. You tried breaking a few of his bones to see if that would make it easier to no avail. To make matters worse, maggots started growing and eating out his eyes and you're worried that the stink of him will follow you wherever you travel. "Well, I might as well leave him here," you say aloud. It is not really the best choice, but he isn't on the road. When the crows come for him, you're sure he'll be spotted, but hopefully by then you'll be long gone. Hopefully. Hope hasn't exactly been working for you so far, you realize, so you decided on an alternative course of action. It took you a few minutes to start the fire and with the help of Doneti's **** his disgusting corpse is now aflame. You can't help but admire your handy-work, and apparently neither can someone else because you start hearing.. clapping coming from behind you.

At first, it was so faint you thought it might be some strange animal you’ve never seen before travelling the woods, however, the clapping became louder and louder until you could swear it was no less than ten feet in front of you. To make matters even more confusing, you start to hear a boisterous laugh.
“Ha! Lass that was mighty impressive work there. I couldn’t help but smile as it took you so long to figure out how to dispose of the cretin,” said a voice that appears to be coming from straight in front of you. “Oops, forgot about this,” the voice said and suddenly there was a body to go with the voice that came as-if-out of nowhere.

He had dark, long mangled hair and he was quite unshaven. His clothes were ragged and one of his ears were cropped: the mark of a criminal. Among all his poverty, there was a gleaming gemstone tied to a leather cord hung around his neck. The gem as blue as his hard-set eyes. He wasn’t particularly old, not like your father or Doneti, but it seems that stress made his youth disappear.

“Who are you?” You ask while taking a few steps back. You’ve already been accosted once and it doesn’t hurt to be prepared to run.
“No need to get all apprehensive; I mean no harm.” He takes a sort-of flashy half-bow you suspect to impress you. “My name is Mathis Lormand of Ronet, a town that is a bit of a walk down this here road, and you would be?”
“Madeline d’Bonatel,” you respond.
“Ah Madeline, what a beautiful name, and I take it you are from the village of Bonatel to the South of here?”
You nod in affirmation.
"I believe I have a bit of a confession to make Madeline. I have been following you ever since you set out of your village, mostly out of simple curiosity and the fact we seem to both be traveling in the same direction," he says.
This random invisible-criminal man has stalked you all the way here!? Okay. Breath easily Madeline you tell yourself. That must mean that, "So, I take it you heard and saw everything that transpired here?"
"Of course," he says matter-of-factly.
"And what do you have to say?"
"Just that the bastard tried to extort you for sex, which you gave up to him your honor at that, and that he still tried to and pardon the pun fuck you over at the end," he says.
"So you have no qualms whatsover about what I have just done?"
"Absolutely none, I am after all a rebel of types my-self," you then proceed to ask him to specify what exactly he means and he says, "Well in the town of Ronet my family, the Lormands, had long served on the town-council and had in many years past held the position of Mayor. I was raised with what you'd call a silver spoon in my mouth, however I liked to live an actual life. I spent my days drinking, fighting, and singing with my half-brother Remar. Many a day was past between the two of us in our favorite tavern The Drunken Guardsmen. It was on one such day that my family and many others were thrown out of the town council as our Mayor took power for himself.
"What do you mean took power for himself? Mayor's, even in our small villages, do not have authority over the guards or the village coin?" You ask completely enamored in his tale of his town's politics.
"Well, this Mayor of ours wanted more and more authority for himself. He stepped upon the traditions of our town, and even set up a **** market. The council prepared a vote of no-confidence, but the Mayor had promised certain elements outside the city a part of the tax revenue as well as their share of any of the council-members' property. In any case, once Remar and I heard what was happening we and the other younger men of the families gathered together as many townspeople and loyal guards we could and fought against the Mayor and his mercenaries. The town's central square became a bloodbath as we lacked the arms and heavy armor worn by these mostly foreign men, I seem to recall an Ork or two among them."
"How did you survive?" You ask.
"Well, the mayor arrested many of us and he offered us a choice, after-all he couldn't be seen executing a quarter of the town's people and remain in control very long. We could accept his rule and be granted a portion of our families property back, and the promise that he would restore the council at a later date, or we could leave the town permanently. My brother Remar chose the first the option, while I opted sort-of for the latter."
"Sort-of?" You inquire.
"It was a ruse on my part. Myself and the others who took the second option then formed a rag-tag group of bandit-rebels. We attacked the Mayor's caravans. We raided the homes of local farmers who supported him, and we even attempted an ****. After about a year, however, a traitor in a our ranks revealed our hideaways and secret entrances into the town and we were all caught one-by-one. The Mayor branded us as criminals," he points to his ear as he says so, "and he sent us to the King's Prison so that no one in the Kingdom would be the wiser. As long as the King gets his taxes, he cares naught at all for the people."
"You are a fugitive then."
"Yes, much like you."
"Like me?" You ask incredulously.
"You stole silver that you believed yours by right of hard work from what I assume to be your overbearing father, like I stole from a Mayor that stole my family's fortune for his own greed and authority. You will now be wanted not only for the silver, but also for the **** of a guard now no?"
"I guess you are correct, they'll assume I've killed him."
"The punishment for the **** of a guard is not a very good one, especially for a woman. Prison, enslavement, mutilation, and **** likely await you, much like me."
"What are you trying to sell me?" You ask of this charismatic man.
"Well, I am a bit tired from the road and I have not eaten anything. I've managed to escape the prison and the authorities by using this here gem I got from the King's mine, and I believe I know of a way we can both use it. Share food and drink with me, and I'll get us safely to Ronet, where I swear my half-brother Remar will help us avoid any further trouble and provide a place to stay for a little while. Besides, why are you leaving your village anyway?"
"I just wanted to see the world a bit, I got tired of the village," you respond.
"Well, is this not just the perfect opportunity? What do you say?"