The dark cloaked man spotted a figure coming towards him in the distance. Even from here, he could see his unsightly form; the clothing of a twisted carnival jester, flipping his knives around with a large scar over one of his eyes. Most disgusting indeed. However, Valek couldn't complain too much. After all, here was a witch willing to sell out his own brethren for a couple of silver coins. And if this was the caravan constantly mentioned in the reports...then this single act alone would serve to foster the Clergy's eternal goal of purging this world of evil.

And yet....there was hatred in Valek's soul. Hatred for this coward, no, this fool who had abandoned his comrades for profit and power. A low life beyond humans, but above witches. Then again, at least witches were ignorant of thier sin of existence. Regardless, Valek moved his horse to the side of the forest, making it easier for the deformed clown to see him. His face stoic and grim, he awaited for the witch's betrayel to take place right before his very eyes.

"May God above have mercy on your damned soul, witch," he muttered to himself. "Let us pray He forgives mine as well."