You sided with the villagers

The whip swept towards the innkeeper and almost as swiftly the throwing dagger you kept strapped to left wrist slipped into the slaver’s throat and he collapsed backwards, clutching at his throat. You crossed the room in three quick strides and ripped the knife from his throat. Blood spurted as the slaver bled out on the floor. “Where are the rest of them?”

The innkeeper was staring at you in shock, but his wife responded. About ten were upstairs, with most of the…entertainment slaves. The other twenty, including most of the serious fighters were sleeping in the stable, along with, probably, the local prostitutes and a couple of other local women, not volunteers. Their daughter was hiding behind her parents, somewhere between shock and vindictive joy.

A cruel smile crossed your face as you sheathed the blade, after cleaning it on the slaver’s jerkin. “Get me the keys to the rooms upstairs,” you commanded. With the keys in hand, you headed upstairs, walking silently, despite your armor and the dagger in your hand. You opened the first door and saw a heavy slaver, sleeping on the bed, a woman who’d once been beautiful curled at his feet, hands chained together, and to the wall. A few steps brought you across the room and you cut his throat in a single motion, while holding him still to keep him from thrashing too much. The **** woke, but at a gesture of your blood covered knife, she fell silent.

Swift steps carried you to each of the other rooms and the **** of the slavers and the capture of four sex-slaves, who, for the time being, you left in the rooms. After collecting armor from the floor of the one closest in size to you, you commanded the folks downstairs to go and “Get the girls out of there and cleaned up.”

“What about the folks in the stable?” the innkeeper’s wife asked.

“I’ll handle them. Oh, and we’ll settle up who owes whom what later. If you were to loot the folks I just killed, that would annoy me,” you reply. “Now,” you turn to their daughter, “show me to the stables, if you please.” As the innkeeper started to say something, you continued, “You really don’t want her to see what’s up there.”

The buxom redhead looked indignant, but the chance to be alone with her rescuer was worth more than the chance to see the dead bodies. She grabbed your, none-blade-holding, hand and pulled you out of the inn. “You saved me,” she whispered, “I’m so grateful.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Oh, yes, I’ll be happy to show you, but not here, no one can know how…grateful I was, since I’m pretty sure you ain’t marrying me.”

“Good guess, lass. What’s your name?”

“Brigitte, and you?” she asked, as she led you towards the stable.

“Erwin. When can you get away?” you asked, calmly, a fuck was often part of your payment, not a surprise and though Brigitte was a fine looking woman, in a low-cut dress, it took a lot more than a bar wench to turn your head, even back then.

“I can sneak away for an hour or two this afternoon, there’s a small cave we use to store beer, no one knows about it,” she gave you directions, before heading back to the inn, leaving you outside the thatched stable containing twenty heavily armed, if hung-over slavers and something of a tactical problem.