Thread: What is broken can be fixed. (Luana Blodwyn x Irlandais)

Some of the uptight posture left his shoulders when Rurik noticed that it wasnt the commander himself who would be making the report today, instead it was that loathsome captain whose name hed never quite bothered to learn. The man was cruel and fairly dim witted, a mix that made him perfect for the leading small groups of men in the conquest of sacking farming towns. It was work that Rurik himself found deplorable, he of course understood that it was the easiest way to end a siege like the one that Lord Eastmarch had earned himself. Cut off the food supply and starve them out within a few months, but why couldnt they do that by setting up a barricade? The looting of farms and slaughter of smallfolk was only going to salt the wounds and make other, and perhaps more influential, lords rebel in the same way before the same happened to them. No matter his opinion Rurik was still outranked, so he forced himself to stand and press his fist against his heart in a quick salute before the man spoke. Surprise hit him as the number rolled out into the stuffy air of the tent As few as that? The reaction should not be mistaken, Rurik was almost as against the taking of slaves as he was of the murder of innocent farmers and their families, but surely it was a better alternative than more blood to be ploughed into next years fields. Frowning and quickly picking up a blank roll of parchment Rurik made towards the opening flap of the pavilion, pointing out as he went past the captain Commander Ballard ordered you to take any you could alive, I suggest that next time he lets you off your leash you instruct your men to remember which end up a sword is the sharp part. He didnt wait around to hear the indignant response, the commander was too lazy to punish anything that didnt happen right beneath his nose. At worst Rurik would just have to sleep with a dagger under his pillow for a few days in case one of the dogs the man led came sniffing after him, looking for a treat from master once his work was done. Instead he stepped out of the tent and made his way towards the area where new captives were taken. Above the usual cacophony of wailing and sobbing there was a far louder voice, a womans voice, and a rather displeased woman at that if the string of curses was anything to go by. Having spent the last six months surrounded by soldiers who were little more than former street toughs and muggers-made-knight Rurik had picked up his fair share of foul language, but he had to admit that the amount of creativity the woman was showing with the obscenities was impressive. His first guess was that it was the red head he was warned about, which suddenly made him wonder if the threat about his fingers might have been more literal than first assumed and in that case who had been the man stupid enough to find that out the hard way? Despite the mental image that he found rather amusing there was no laughter to be heard, it was too much to force himself to smile or laugh while peoples lives crumbled around him. As the line of captives came into view Ruriks practiced eye swept over them for a quick count, sixty people in total. He was about to write the figure down when he remembered that wasnt quite what the captain had said, twenty six women, thirty four children and one wildcat. That made sixty one. With a growl of displeasure Rurik made the count again and came up with the same number, there was certainly somebody missing and the empty link in the line of chains told him it had happened after the arrival at camp. That meant that someone had been breaking rules and taking captives to rape inside the encampment. Since they wouldnt be bringing her back to hand in come morning for fear of punishment that meant that by dawn the womans head would likely be in a different tent than her body, an unfortunate side effect of not all of the men caring if their company was fresh. Progressing down the line and assigning each captive a number and writing down their age Rurik begun to hate his comrades all over again, as he did every day. There were children as young as four, and a toothless old woman of seventy. One girl told Rurik she was seventeen, and after fixing her with a hard stare he wrote down fifteen on his list. Girl, anyone else asks youd best tell them youre fifteen he instructed before moving on. The girl wouldnt know it but the age at which captives were no longer considered children was sixteen, Rurik had just saved the girl from being bought and sold as a whore most likely. It was an empty gesture in truth though it just meant shed end up scrubbing dishes for a year before someone decided she was old enough to bend over a table. At the end of the line Rurik stopped, face to face with the red head he had been able to hear the whole time. Dried blood was spattered over her face, and by the lack of any obvious wound it wasnt her own. This time rurik did struggle to hide the grin, wishing hed been able to see her put one of the animals that were doing this to them down in the dirt in a pool of his own blood. As ever he only spoke a single impersonal word to the captive, his pen poised above the parchment ready to write the answer down. Age?