The man wasn't particularly frightened by the mercenaries' words, but he changed his tone when he realized they weren't who he thought they were.
- Oh, so you're not Lord's idlers? - he looked at their patches. - Something familiar. And the cyclops ran away. A big cyclops. He came down from the mountains, broke the bridge, and ran away. Fat bastard. So, who are you?
After inspecting the remains of the infrastructure and the surrounding area, he explained:
- We are mercenaries. We help those in need, protect the oppressed, and punish the wicked. For money, - he rubbed his fingers in front of the peasant's eyes as a symbolic gesture to emphasize the importance of his last remark. - So, the cyclops... Why did he suddenly take a liking to your bridge? Does he have nothing else to do?