You are tired from spending the night waiting for the manticore, but at least your cramping has abated by the time you near the church. It was a long, cold night trying to stay both still and alert.
You can see that a service has ended recently. Despite what had occurred before, it is clear that either Amalric still has some sway in this community, or that fear has brought them back to his sermons. Most of the villagers seem to have attended. The church itself seems cleaner somehow.
As the villagers mill about the church lawn, you can see the miller approaching them. He stops just outside the church grounds. Although you are still some distance away, you can hear his voice clearly.
"Last night, I buried my youngest son," he says, "but not in this hallowed ground." There is some murmering among the villagers; clearly, they have heard this news in the morning sermon. "Many of you knew my Wybald. He was a good boy. He did what was needed when winter threatened to bury us all. As we all did." He pauses to let that sink in. "As did we all," he repeats. "We undertook those sacrifices togehter. We undertook those risks together. We risked the loss of life, of our dearest blood...And now these strangers come, stirring up evil against us, and they will have us say that we did these things for nothing. For nothing!"
The crowd murmers and fidgets.
"I will not have it," the miller says. "I will not have it. There needed to be no more death here. My boy need not have died. Kell's Reach has already paid our share of sorrow, and more."
You are still some distance away, but you could shout and be heard, if you wished to.
