"Alright, if you're sure." You give his a nod before standing and brushing the forest floor from your rear.

"A couple things to keep you living a few more days. Stay away from the cities and towns until you learn the language, they don't speak English and using it will likely get you an escort from the guard to the guilliotine. Lose your head and it's permanent. And find new clothes. Good luck."

"Thanks," you say. He doesn't smile as he turns and disappears silently into the forest. Behind you branches crack again. Voices speak rapidly in an unknown language behind you. You turn to find the small man pointing at you. An armored guard stand at each side, both with crossbows aimed at you.

"A 'merican," the small man states accusingly. The guard on the man's right barks out what may have been a question. You smile and shrug, remembering the very recent advice not to speak English. That must have been the wrong answer as two crossbow bolts are fired at your chest. You cough up blood before dying the second time in twenty four hours.

Groups are good for this sort of thing.