With a swift blow, he clocked the man clean to the side of the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the ground. The man groaned, and shuddered. Not quite unconscious, but not in a hurry to move either.
"The Order states that I've a right to defend myself if duly threatened," he said coldly, and stepped over the man. He remembered exactly where their trapdoor had once laid. A second room connected to the main hut – the only other room, if it could be called that. A degree of storage space in there, more of a larder than anything else.
Unswept straw kept it obscured, but he knew where the trapdoor was. He kicked it clear of debris, and pulled at it to heft it, and then he was climbing down the ladder, into the darkness, muttering to himself.
