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

[Irlandais]

The canvas of the pavilion was playing havoc with the papers, with every errant breeze into the tent would cause cascade of parchments to become airborne and Rurik would have to send one of the clerks he had been assigned chasing after them. It had almost become a game to him, helping to break the monotony of sitting around and waiting for his days’ work to actually start. By the eighth time however the amusement had worn off and he decided to put an end to their stupidity. Standing he crossed the rugs that had been strewn to form a makeshift floor and squared up to the taller of the two clerks. The man was probably of average height but the crown of his head only came up to Rurik’s chin. That fact wasn’t wasted in the pale skinned cretin, evidenced by the way he shook slightly and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

That was nothing compared to the half squeal of terror as the taller man snatched the knife from his underling’s belt, holding the blade towards his gut for half a second before flipping the hilt towards the man and holding it up for him to take. As the man reached out with a trembling hand Rurik pulled it back an inch, as if telling him to wait. Very slowly as if talking to someone singularly unintelligent Rurik pointed to the knife. “Paperweight.” The man took the knife back and tottered off towards the stack of papers. Rurik forced himself to calm a little, he blamed the war. It had everyone’s blood running hotter than usual, and sitting behind a desk as part of the ‘quill cavalry’ as it was informally known gave him no way to vent frustration. Only a few miles behind the front lines he was stationed, yet the most he saw of battle was the occasional wounded soldier when the men returned to camps in the evening.

Darkness was just starting to fall when the familiar beat of horse hooves thudding against the churned up soil breached the tent walls, it was about time that the commander returned, no doubt with another list of ‘spoils’ for Rurik to write up and send back to the capital for tax purposes. With a snap of his fingers to get their attention he dismissed the clerks, letting them know that they were done for the day with a wave of his hand towards the door flap of the pavilion. As they left Rurik stood again to check his appearance in one of the looted mirrors along the tent wall, not wanting to appear dishevelled in front of his superiors. He needn’t have bothered, as usual his jet black hair hung in effortlessly straight curtains down to the bottom of his neck, framing the features of his face. A perfunctory check to his uniform, a blue overcoat with the royal lion emblazoned on the right breast, told him everything was in order. Making his way to back behind the desk Rurik sat upright, waiting for the new arrivals to camp to make their way in.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

First came the drumming of hoof beats then came the boots and then the screams. Havoc was everywhere, blood was everywhere. It was not a battle, it was a slaughter. Barely armed farmers and tradesmen, hardly able to feed themselves let alone fight off the attackers. All because they swore fealty to the wrong lord. Many were brave, taking up pitchfork and scythe as bravely as any knight held a sword. Even more were cowards, fleeing at the sight of their attackers, pushing women and children out of the way or into the hooves of a galloping horse. The men were killed, it was quick but slow. Their attacks took their time, hacking the limbs from victims as they begged for mercy, but there was no mercy that day. Women were taken in their homes or on the streets, those unable to fight.

One tried to help. Tried to herd screaming, frightened children away. Truly, terrified children were far harder to herd than cats. Some would not move, others moved too much. Enid had never been so frustrated. As she chased one child back to the group and managed to get the group to move a foot forward more children fled the group as fires sprung up on their homes. She was frustrated and sweating in her simple working dress of dark green. "Come on, we have to go!" She shouted, trying to hold her temper at bay which could be a fiery as the mane of red hair on her head. One child wouldn't move so she scooped him up and carried him the few feet to the group. It was hopeless, she wouldn't get them away into the woods.

"There's more here!" she heard a man shout. Looking up her wide green eyes met with the man's, she read his intent as he charged her. She set the child down and ran back at him with a wild yell. It took him by surprise as she slammed her full weight of a whopping 120 lbs at five feet and two inches tall. Perhaps small but she was strongly built and buxom to boot. Taken by surprise the man was knocked to his back. In a wild struggle she took his sword and managed to bloody him, ramming the pointed end into his neck. Blood spurted, splashing her face. By her trade she was not unused to blood, but knowing she was the cause made her take a pause. It was took long.

She didn't hear the horse or the man that came up behind. One moment she was straddling her victim, his lifeblood on her face and flowing from his neck. The very next all was dark.

It was late afternoon when she woke. Her hands and feet were bound and she was slung across the front of a saddle like a sack of vegetables. She was across some man's legs. Sense bade her stay still and feign unconsciousness, but duty won out and she looked up for the children. "Ah! The spitfire's awake!" The man above her said with a loud chuckle. "Where are the children?" She demanded, trying to see through the dizzying haze of her vision. "Oh some here and some there..." he said with a dark chuckle. "Most of them here in the slave train...some of them...well...parts of them are here and some are there." Enid saw red, "you son of a bitch!" She screamed and began squirming and fighting. The man just laughed and gave a push, knocking her off the horse face first. It was lucky she did not break her neck or even a tooth. Unable to move her arms of legs she landed in an uncomfortable heap. The man dismounted and cut the binds on her legs. "If you're not going to be a good girl and ride calmly...you'll walk...fast." He took her hands and lashed them to the back of his saddle. She could only stand an arm length from his horse, arms raised up and unable to lower. The man clicked at his horse and they set off at a brisk trot, forcing Enid to make a running hop to keep up. Her head throbbed in the first minute. It was thirty minutes before her legs gave out and the man slowed his horse to allow her to walk slowly. "Now will you be good?" He questioned. Enid shot him a glare and the man shrugged, urging his horse to a slow trot.

This went on until dusk. Enid was sweaty, her dress torn, bare feet bleeding, hair disheveled and dusty. Even as the man walked in ranks with his fellows she growled and hissed like a wild cat. "Ah finally, somewhere to store this one," the man said wearily. "Is the master of quills ready to take his tallies?" He asked while others chuckled. Enid swore a string of obscenities as she was half dragged and half carried to where the rest of the villagers were. She was one of the few young women who still wore a full dress, despite the hem being shredded and rips up the side. Despite her bone deep weariness it took two men and a punch to the jaw to get her in chains with the rest of the captives. Still more obscenities strung from her lips.

The captain walked into Rurik's tent and heaved a weary sigh. The shouting from the wild red head could be heard even there. "Thirty four children, twenty six women and one wild cat," he said, digging a finger into his ear. "If you go out to take count I'd steer clear of the red head...just as soon bite your fingers off."

 

[Irlandais]

Some of the uptight posture left his shoulders when Rurik noticed that it wasn’t the commander himself who would be making the report today, instead it was that loathsome captain whose name he’d 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 couldn’t 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 year’s 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 didn’t wait around to hear the indignant response, the commander was too lazy to punish anything that didn’t 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 woman’s 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 people’s 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 wasn’t 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 wouldn’t be bringing her back to hand in come morning for fear of punishment that meant that by dawn the woman’s 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 you’d best tell them you’re fifteen” he instructed before moving on. The girl wouldn’t 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 she’d 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 wasn’t her own. This time rurik did struggle to hide the grin, wishing he’d 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?”

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

The Captain huffed at the scribe. What did this little upstart with his quills and ink think he was talking about? It was sword and blood that made countries, made men. Not these petty scribes, the quill cavalry. He said nothing as the tall scribe left the tent. What could he say? He might rank over the scribe but they were, in many ways, worlds apart. He didn't need to waste the words on such a man.

The line of new slaves was a piteous things. Children sobbed in the arms of women who were not their mothers. Old women coughed and muttered, knowing their days were numbered. It would be the children and young women who would have a future...not much of a future. They eyed their captors furtively, it was painfully obvious they were frightened. When Rurik walked down their chained line they barely looked at him when he questioned their age. He meant nothing to them just as they knew they meant nothing to him. The children were terrified but they didn't look at the man with the same hatred as those who were older. There was a blind trust to them. Grown-ups were supposed to take care of them right?

Enid had halted her curses and slurs as the large man walked down the line of her people, her chained people. She watched him like a mountain lion watches a fawn walking amongst the brush. Her eyes were narrowed and her body coiled as if ready to pounce. He was getting closer, asking each person the same question. His eyes distant, his tone impassive.

At the very end he got to where she was linked with a young woman just a couple years he junior. There was something different in how he looked at her, almost as if he was trying not to laugh. Yes her position must be hilarious. Well she had killed one of his own. See if he was laughing if her wrists and ankles weren't linked with the girl beside her. He spoke, the same impassive tone and the distant look again. Enid spat at his toes. "Two and twenty," she snarled out. If he were closer, if she wasn't tied to the other young woman, she might have slammed her head into his parchment, spilled his ink and scattered his quills. "I hope you sleep well tonight, sir," the sir was snarled out as thought she had fangs. "Perhaps in a year I will see you again, you can pay the brothel master for a night in my bed. Now away with you, I tire of your presence." Unlike the others her head was held high, despite the palpable rage she exuded.

 

[Irlandais]

If he had been a petty man Rurik might have threatened or worse yet struck the woman for the insults and disrespect she was showing him. Even easier still he could just order one of the men standing around to slit her throat and never write down that she had ever existed on the list to be sent back to the capital. After all, who would question the ability of a scribe to count as high as sixty? Despite that power he held there was no desire in Rurik to see any of those things happen, something that might not quite be the same with the next person that came along. The faster that she learned that the safer she would be, and if he was seen to be going soft on one of the captives he knew that the men would be taking her away next and he’d take the blame. The situation benefited both of them, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

With an inwardly directed silent sigh Rurik took a single step closer, within his own reach of the woman but where her own chains would prevent her reaching him. It felt a cowardly thing to do, but it would be what his comrades expected. “You’re a pretty young thing, I’ll grant you that. But the girls who warm my bed at night do so willingly and are in no short supply.” Without warning he brought his right boot up to the chain that held her wrists together and stepped down on it, dragging the woman down to her knees in the churned up mud. “You’ve guessed that men will have a use for your tongue in the future, it would be a shame for you to lose it before they have that opportunity”. To accentuate his point Rurik rattled his belt knife in its sheath, but didn’t draw the blade. At head height with the threat there was no way the woman could miss it, but instead of following through he kicked back at the chain so that it pulled the woman away from him to land heavily on her rear, spattering what remained of her torn dress with mud.

Without wanting to meet her gaze or hear whatever obscenities would follow Rurik walked away, he had his list and he’d provided what little help he could, both to the younger girl and more indirectly to the fiery red head if she had the wits to understand the nature of the situation. There was no reason for him to stay around and feel the guilt that wasn’t his to bear. So why was that steel eyed stare burned into his memory? “Because you know you’re wrong” a voice in his head told him “you’re not only letting them do this but you help them do it faster”. That thought chewed at him all night, on the way back to his tent, as he undressed to get into his bed, and even as he tried to sleep. The look of condemnation in those eyes, the dozens of people who had ‘never existed’. With an exasperated grunt he sat up and lit his oil lamp, made a promise to himself there and then.
Tonight he would be busy, it was the beginning of the end and it would be his hand that wrote the script. Wars were not won by murdering swine herds and turnip farmers, they ended with the sharpest implement imaginable, human wit. There would be many letters to write, all to be sent back to central command in the capital. A great many of them concerning Commander Ballard, his detestable underling captain and the horde of thugs that rode at his back.

He would likely never see the redhead again, but part of him knew that without someone who had possessed the backbone to stand up to him that way he might not have started this work until too late. “Maybe I will pay for that night if I get the chance, but it won’t be what’s between her legs that I’m after” he thought to himself, as he signed the first of a long stream of parchments.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

As he stepped closer the red head's posture coiled further. Just one more step and she could knock him down, possibly, without harming the woman next to her. Her eyes narrowed at the mild threat but the narrowed looked turned to surprise as the chain was stepped on. Weak from her struggle and her sheer outrage, not to mention the several miles tied to a horse she fell to her knees as his boot came down. She gave a small grunt as mud splashed around her knees, hands landing in the mud. Once down she looked back up to the man, anger still blazing from those wide green eyes, only more fueled by the situation. His threat mattered little, her life was forfeit anyways. That knife in his belt would be better served to slice the throats of every woman and child in the chain, it would be a mercy to them all.

The chain was kicked back and she was unbalanced, sent onto her rear. Mud spattered again, coating the entirety of her skirts and legs only slightly exposed by the rips and tears. "Son of a whelping whore," she snarled as she adjusted to stand back up beside the timid woman beside her. Filthy and still brazen her eyes followed the glorified scribe back to his tent. She wouldn't learn her lesson until a knife was drawn across her throat.

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It was a year since the Great Cabbage Seige, so it was called. The brutal commander and his men were dismissed from the services of the king after the war was over. The war had been over for three months and a time of perilous peace reigned. The peace of the realm was on a knife's edge, a single wrong word and the balance would tip. It was for that reason that multitude of balls, masquerades, hunts, feasts, any event that could make people forget and make the nobles stay peaceful between one another. So far it seemed to be working.

It was a late autumn ball, celebrating the harvest and greeting the coming winter with joy rather than fear. Lords and ladies were resplendent in their autumnal garb. It was as if the autumn trees had grown legs and arms and were whirling their way on the dance floor. The affair was grand and the man putting it on one of the grandest men in the city. Lord Karstark was the wealthiest man in the kingdom, it was whispered even richer than the king himself. He was a self made man, a merchant by birth and an up-start lord. Whatever the old blood lines said of him, they could not begrudge his feasts.

Weaving through the dancing lords and ladies was a bevy of pretty slave women. All sorts of women from the kingdom and further abroad. All the same and yet all different. Women with skin as black as coal with hair like that of a spring lamb. Others with pale skin, white-blond hair and grey eyes that were so pale they looked like frozen pools. Some were jovial, so accustomed to their place they truly believed that was their life and there was no other to be. Each dressed in loose gown of fine, sheer silk. No detail could be seen but in the fire light their lean, lithe bodies shown dark through the golden fabric.

There were some, however, that were not so jovial, though none were chained nor violent. A woman of early twenties with hair the color of a smith's forge marched between the men and women. She saw nothing but the floor at her feet. The fine clothing and how her hair was teased and curled into a sheet of curling ringlets were at odd with the hunched demeanor. She only stopped when called to pour more wine into a tankard. When her arms raised the sleeves of the gown slipped to her elbows to show the angry scars around wrists from a time of long chaining. Her ankles showed the same but the skirts of the dress brushed the ground to conceal them.

When all seemed satisfied she slunk to a corner to await another thirsty noble. Unseeing but for the ground.

 

[Irlandais]

Idly the chain that marked his office slipped between the fingers of Rurik’s left hand as the estate guard read his invitation. It was simple silver set of interlocked rings, but on every other hung a coin which had been pierced and threaded onto the necklace. Truly it was a gaudy piece of jewellery and the man hated wearing it, but the power that came with his new title ‘Master of coin’ was worth a little humility to be suffered. The climb to the post had been much faster than any of his predecessors, mostly doddering old misers who would rather see a thousand men executed than spend a single golden mark. The king himself was to thank for that, after a certain few letters reached him warning of the sedition planned by one (former) Commander Ballard and his loyal Captain he’d been most grateful.

With an exasperated sigh Rurik looked at the guard, what was taking so long? He was already late and Karstark had been wanting to meet with him in person. With a groan that he couldn’t supress Rurik noticed that as the man read his lips were moving and sounding out the words phonetically. With a snap of his fingers he caught the guards attention and tugged his chain into view “There is one of these in the entire kingdom, what with it being treason to make a forgery. It belongs to the master of coin as I’m sure you are well aware. I am him, now stand aside my good man and allow me to get inside before Lord Karstark decides to get off his arse and come out here looking for me himself”. That seemed to do the trick, as within two minutes he was inside and shrugging of his thick black cloak, to be handed off to some servant and carried away. It left him standing there in a black sleeveless overcoat with a white shirt beneath. Black flaring leggings underneath went down his legs to tuck into the top of a pair of mid-thigh high leather boots. Supposedly it was the height of fashion, especially with all of the gilded scrollwork down the seams, but all it served to do was make Rurik long for his old scribe’s uniform.

Once he entered the main ballroom the cacophony of mingled music, drunken singing and bawdy conversation hit him like a wall, the need for a drink becoming apparent if tonight was going to be anything better than horrific. A quick glance around and he spotted a serving girl standing at the side of the room, her red hair covering her features due to the way head hung low. “These southern lords have odd ideas of servant etiquette, do they not want them looking at guests now even?” he mused quietly while walking towards her. Taking a wine cup from the table beside her he held it up, a polite smile on his lips. “Excuse me milady, might I trouble your to pour me a glass if you would be so kind?”

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

She heard the approaching boots before ever she saw them near her own bare feet. There was no reason to look, just another man. In public like this it was safe, but never safe enough. The girl turned just a little but only raised her head the tiniest amount. The could see the cup, that was sufficient to pour. "Aye, m'lord," was she sole response as she raised the gilded pitcher and carefully poured his wine. It had a sweet bouquet that rose from the light blush red. Never a drop spilled she turned away from him once it was poured, face still enshrouded by the curtail of painstakingly curled fire.

It was then that Lord Karstark himself appeared. His rotund gut led the way. Stretched over him was cloth that very well could be made from the leave of an autumn birch. Brilliant coppery gold with a hint of rose. His leggings were white and all manner of jewels sparkled on his fingers and at his throat, though hidden by no less than three chins. His face was flushed but he still seemed keen enough, perhaps it was the walk alone that had flushed him so.

"My good Rurik!" He boomed in his jovial way. "Ahhh master of coin I should say," he guffawed loudly. Strange a man so jovial had such whispers about him of the most insidious of things. Shown true to those with a keen eye as the nearby red head began to tremble fiercely. "Thought you would never come! Too busy counting the King's coppers eh? Well glad you did, so very glad. I see you have already found wine, good vintage it is, fifty years in a barrel. A bit sweet for me but the lords and ladies seem to prefer the sweeter bits of life. And speaking of sweeter would you look at this one."

He reached forward and grasped the girl's chin with his pudgy fingers. She made not a sound but the trembling only increased. "Yes...always prefer red heads...so much fire. Never had a wild cat like this before, gave me some good scars she did. Wouldn't know it you look at her now. Look up girl, let the master of coin see that pretty face." She did as bid, with help from Karstark. Her wide green eyes looked up to the man but didn't seem to see him. What little color was in her to begin with fled.

"Not much fire left now...more like a kitten...what was your name girl?" He questioned. The girl swallowed hard, trying to look away but was locked into position by those large, greasy paws. "Enid m'lord..." She said quietly, then he release her face which went right back to the floor. "Yes...shame really...I do miss that old fire. Not fit for serving mind, just as soon as bite off a guest's fingers than pour wine. Probably sell her soon, too obedient, if you can believe that!" He laughed loudly. "Every man wants a bit of fire in his bed, eh Rurik?" He guffawed and put a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Come I would speak with you of odious matters before you have too much fun. After the party you are, of course, welcome to stay and select any of my girls for a bed warmer." He clapped his hand on Rurik's shoulder again and led him away to a chamber for privacy before allowing the master of coin to enjoy himself.

 

[Irlandais]

Without the accompanying hard stare and after a year without hearing it the woman’s voice didn’t remind Rurik of what had happened in the camp, for him it almost seemed a lifetime ago despite the short time that had passed. As such he had been about to thank the server and leave when Karstark’s voice rang out loud across the room, turning no small number of heads before they realized his attention was elsewhere. Rurik himself had no such luck however, the man half waddled towards him announcing name and rank for all who were within earshot. So much for a quiet evening in his cups, Rurik would now have every nobleman and his daughter trying to ride his coattails as if he carried around the kings wealth in his pockets at all times.

The man was thoroughly detestable, almost the perfect embodiment of gluttony and hedonism to such an extent that it make Rurik feel ill just to look at him. Not a trace of that showed in his voice or face though as he stepped back to make room for the half breathless lord, a warm smile and a clap on the shoulder accompanying his words. “Lord Karstark, might I say you’re looking particularly resplendent this evening”. The older man continued on as if Rurik had never spoken, clearly on his own agenda even if his conversation seemed empty and meaningless for now. Politely he pretended to listen as the buffoon prattled on over vintages and women, only when the chubby fingers reached out for the serving girl did Rurik’s attention snap fully back into place. His green shot to the green eyes, the red hair and the colour of her skin, how had he not realized before? The question didn’t take long before he had an answer to give himself, without the scorn in her voice or the defiant way in which she looked at him the woman was barely recognizable.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the way her eyes seemed to want nothing more than to find the floor, what had been done to her to dampen the spirit she had possessed so much? Only when he was taken by the shoulder and led away did Rurik even realize that Karstark had been speaking the whole time, thankfully the subconscious side of his brain managed to fill in the gaps and with a courteous nod Rurik allowed himself to be led away. The deliberations took a little over two hours, and even though as he left the private room Rurik knew he’d gotten what he came for it was impossible to shake the feeling that Karkstark had still somehow managed to get the better of him. As he was about to turn and leave both the man and the manor behind Rurik stopped and remembered something that the Lord of lard had offered him. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to accept that offer of a bed for the night. Travel between here and the capital is such a wearisome affair and one I’d much rather face after a warm night”. It wasn’t the bed that Rurik was after, but still he made his excuses before adding almost as an afterthought “Oh, and you mentioned a bed warmer? That delightful young serving girl…Enid was it? Well, it should only take a spark to rekindle an old fire, I’ll consider it a challenge”.

That notion seemed to amuse the older man greatly and as he guffawed and gave his assent Rurik wondered just how much damage had been done to the woman, was Karstark letting on less than he knew about her? There was no time to find out however, as the Lord made his excuses as a host and left to attend to his other guests. Rurik himself found the notion of spending more time even near the man as too much to bear, and said that he would be retiring to his room for the night. Much wine had been drunk during the meeting, and Rurik wanted a clear head by the time his company arrived.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

Karstark was still seated in his specially designed chair. "Too fat for normal chairs, can you believe it?" He had said and simply laughed about it. He was enjoying another glass of wine as Rurik was departing, a smug grin on his face. When Rurik turned around again to speak with him the man looked up, all joviality. At Rurik's request and boast of the challenge the man guffawed loudly, slapping his belly. "If you insist! If you like her enough you can have her." He laughed again and stood to depart. Before he attended his other guests he found one of his girls and told her to bring him Enid.

It wasn't long before the red head was led to Karstark. Before his guests he would not do much but he leaned down to whisper fierce tones. "You had best find some fire tonight for my friend, if you displease him I don't even think I would bother selling you. The river out back would make a fine grave...extinguish the last of any fire you have. Now go, prepare the chamber and warm his bed tonight. For God's sake at least move when he fucks you." Enid nodded meekly before dashing off.

She set about the room lighting candles and getting a fire going in the hearth. It was not a massive room, but it wasn't small either, comfortable enough for most. She had brought in a large black chest, light enough she could carry it. Not bothering to open it she set it on the table. If this man was a frequent guest of Karstark he would know what was in the box. Enid shuddered at the thought and turned to finish. Cheese, fruit and soft bread was set out along with a pitcher of wine and two cups. All was set so she settled herself on the bed to simply wait. No emotion, just simply there, staring at the floor as if expecting it to jump up and bite her.

 

[Irlandais]

On his way back to the room that had been set aside for him Rurik stumbled slightly, an odd thing for him since he never had more to drink than he could handle. He’d had perhaps three or four small glasses of the wine, only drinking to toast when it had been suggested – rather more frequently than usual it seemed if truth be told. It didn’t seem to be a particularly strong vintage at that; it just had that sickly sweet under taste that Karstark claimed his guests enjoyed. Only then did Rurik consider the possibility that the man had been slipping something into his drink, after all, he’d always insisted on pouring himself, his ‘right as host’ as he put it. With a silent curse he unsteadily made for a nearby balcony, hoping the cool autumn air would do something to clear the haze that was settling over him.

There was no real fear for his life, Karstark was more than clever enough to know not to poison him to death in his own manor. No, it must have been Circalya sap. A resin imported from the far east that had a powerful narcotic effect when dissolved in a drink. No wonder the choice of wine had been so sweet; it would cover the taste well. So if not to kill him then it would just have been to dull his wits enough to get the greasy swine pouring it what he wanted. Rurik had a feeling that when he reread the treaties he had written up in the morning he might wish it had been poison.
They were not signed yet, but it would be enough for Karstark to cause more arguments back in the capital. Even if Rurik did claim he was drugged then it would be played off as his own fault no doubt, with the lord protesting that he assumed the master of coin was well aware of the sap laced wine – a southern delicacy. If he did manage to kick up enough of a storm it might get him to war he seemed to want, after all, with his wealth now surpassing that of the kingdom itself he might actually be able to pay off some of the other lords in the south and win.

For perhaps twenty minutes Rurik stood there on the balcony with eyes closed, letting the breeze soothe the pounding in his temples. Twice he was passed and had his health enquired after, with the sense to lie he shrugged it off as having had a little too much wine. Time and the cold air worked its magic and soon the pounding receded to a dull ache, the trembling in his limbs stopping as suddenly as it had started. Several times he repeated the phrase “A silent slip-lock stole my sweetheart’s slippers” getting faster and faster, until his thick tongue stopped slurring over the words. He was as presentable as he was likely to be any time soon now, and his room and the woman probably awaited him by now – if not eagerly. The trip to the sleeping quarters was thankfully uneventful and devoid of any other people, but as the door to his chamber swung open and the soft glow of candle and hearth filled his view Rurik’s heart thudded in his chest all over again.

It had seemed a good idea at the time, but now that he saw the woman on his bed looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world that notion was running thin. What was he going to say? The sap had proven enough of a distraction that he hadn’t thought about it. “Good evening miss, I’m the man who ridiculed you, pushed you to your knees and marked the start as your life as a slave with nothing more than a flick of a quill. Terribly sorry about that, care to talk?” his mind unhelpfully suggested as the truth, though even in his hazy state Rurik knew better than to say anything so blunt. Instead he shut the door behind him and stood at the far side of the room, giving the girl her space. “Enid?” he asked, hoping she would look up and see him. “Do you recognize me?”

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

It was taking a strangely long time. Enid wondered, for a brief moment, why the man had not shown up yet. In her year there she had never known someone to take longer than a few minutes. Time was ticking away and she had to rise to put another two logs onto the hearth so it would not go out. Returning to the bed she continued her stare at the floor. When the door opened she felt her insides squeeze and turn cold. For a moment he seemed lost as he stood in the doorway, perhaps drunk. Finally the door shut but he remained on the car side of the room. This was strange, normally these men went straight to the bed. When he questioned her she did not break her stare down with the floor. "You were a guest at Master Karstark's ball m'lord," she said simply enough. Her gaze did not avert to anywhere but that single spot on the floor.

If she would recognize the tall man it wouldn't be staring at the floor. It was a strange question he asked her. Perhaps one of the strangest if truth be told. Most asked what her skills were. "Why does m'lord linger on the margins? He has asked for me and I am here." Her tone could rival his own for impassive, impassioned, back then of course, when he took tally of her people. She didn't care, not any more. What was the point of caring? All it earned was scars.

 

[Irlandais]

Rurik didn’t sigh or let any disappointment show, to tell the truth he didn’t know why he even felt any. They had met only once before and briefly at that, for a decidedly unpleasant exchange after which he’d never expected to see her alive again. Maybe he’d romanticized her in his head: Enid the strong willed and indomitable survivor, the woman who had inspired him that day to stop letting his superiors get away with murder. He’d wondered often enough where she had ended up, escaped? Hung and made a martyr for slaves everywhere? Earned or Bought her freedom?

Reality was far harsher, and a childish part of Rurik wished that he’d never had the misfortune to ask that particular serving girl to fill his cup. It almost made him a little angry that she had allowed herself to become so pathetic, just staring at the floor and apathetically inviting him to climb atop her as if he were a pig in rut. Well if she was only good for following orders now then he may as well give one. “Look at me”.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

Enid still stared at the floor. Defeated looking if not downright pathetic. Apathetic to the situation. What did another matter? He was not the first and he would not be the last. If she had any manner of luck Master Karstark would simply sell her to another where she could simply wash dishes or scrub out chamber pots. It would be easier then, right? Just do what they want, whatever they want and there won't be consequences. No need to enjoy it, why bother? It was always the same, the men were all the same...sometimes the women could be different but it just became the same. So why bothering caring? It wouldn't change things, wouldn't make things easier. She was violent once, for a long time, but had paid that price many times over.

The man spoke and Enid gave an inward sigh. Slowly she raised only her eyes, head still bowed as if she could hide behind that curling curtain of fire. There was recognition enough. She knew him, how could she forget that face. It had been a year but he had been the last one she saw before coming here. The one who made his lists. Truly she did not blame this man. It was the others that had taken her and her people captive, he simply wrote the numbers. Guilty yes of apathy, not caring for their fates. He had simply been the first and most mild of humiliations to come.

"How long shall I look m'lord?" she questioned in the self same tone. Do as bid, that was all that was required.

 

[Irlandais]

‘until you grow a backbone and show a little emotion!’ is what Rurik wanted to answer her, looking into those dead eyes and seeing the spark of recognition but nothing else. Fear, hatred, disgust, helplessness… he’d understand any of them in her place, but no. There was nothing at all. He had been the first to actually demean her and try to point out that it was easier to cooperate than it was to die, had it been him that had actually started to take the spark of life out of her? If that was the case then surely he was in a better position than any to put it back, in the silence as the woman looked at him as per command Rurik begun to consider how.

He could scare her if he wanted, take the knife from his boot and press it against her throat until she gave him a reaction. Even easier would be to make her hate him all over again, remind her of the dead children and tell her that it had been him to give the order to cut them down. But why? It might actually be better to be an apathetic wreck than to be only capable of those emotions, it had probably been the girl herself who realized that and slowly deadened herself to the outside world over the year. Of course he could go for the opposite end of that spectrum and try to remind her of the joys of life, but then again as a slave how many of the things that Rurik took for granted would the girl even get?

In the end he decided to try a different approach still, giving a wave of his hand to let the girl know she could look away if she really wanted to. ‘Enid’ he corrected himself in his head, not ‘girl’ or ‘woman’. She was a person who had a name even if its meaning had been taken away. Since there was no fear as he had worried there might be Rurik crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed, still a fair way away from Enid but closer so that he could speak more softly without the words being swallowed in the half darkness of the room. “Enid, if you could do anything, if nobody would stop you, what would you do right now?”

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

He was staring at her, they all stared. Some through simple lust, other fully bemused. They asked and she obeyed, it was simple enough but some were baffled by it. Soldiers weren't even so deadened and obedient. In the end they all took what they wanted and left. Some pleased, some not so pleased. This one would be the same. She continued to stare at him but she hardly saw him. Her eyes looked straight through him, he might as well have been the wind so all she chose to see. He seemed to stand there for an eternity as she looked at him. For a moment she wondered why he simply stood there, staring back at her. Was he confused? Did he not have slaves of his own who were at his every beck and call?

When he wave his hand dismissively, letting her know she no longer had to look her eyes dropped back to that spot on the floor. Motionless she listened to him cross the floor. The feather bed sagged some as he sat on the edge of it, still well away from her. If she didn't know better she would think him scared of her. Why was he so hesitant? Was this some new game? Others had tried to win trust, to coax any sort of response from her. They got nothing and he would get the same. Though when he spoke the tiniest frown crossed her face before that mask of neutrality settled back down.

A strange question for a man to ask. What did it matter? What she wanted was irrelevant now. Still she did not raise her head to look at him. It was a ponderous question and she had to think on a proper answer. Time slipped by slowly as she tried to formulate a response. To die seemed reasonable enough, but she had ample opportunity to take her own life. Even in that she was far too cowardly. Perhaps this was a test set by Master Karstark. What was the right answer then? The wrong answer would mean punishment again, her insides churned at that thought. "To please you m'lord," she finally said. It was, perhaps, not her own answer to the riddle but it is the one her master would want her to give. "It is not my place to want, only to serve." She blinked and her brow furrowed again. "But..." it was so soft, barely a whisper. She hesitated and shivered, still not daring to look at Rurik. "I...I would..." well he got his with, there was the tiniest flicker of emotion, a flicker of fear in her voice and even smaller of hope. "...like....like to go...outside..." she finished, her voice trailing off just a note below a whisper. He might not have even heard, her voice could have barely been louder than the cheerily crackling fire.

 

[Irlandais]

It might only have been there for the briefest of moments, but for someone who over the course of only one year been forced learn how to survive at court reading people was almost like a second type of book. The frown didn’t escape his notice for that reason, a crack in the mask that showed him that buried deep underneath the steel she had wrapped herself in Enid still existed. Hope stretched thin though as time slipped by without an answer, perhaps the concept of both asking her to think of something bordering on freedom and then admit it all in one go was too much. Yet at the same time there was mistrust in the girls eyes now, downcast as they were he could read that in her. It wasn’t exactly an emotion that anyone would exactly hope for, but again it proved that she was thinking and making judgements for herself even if trying to hide it.


He was about to tell her that she didn’t have to tell him, just to think about it when the eventual answers came and at first only seemed to add to Rurik’s frustration. Of course she would give an evasive answer, but the fact that she had sat there and considered before giving the reply should have been enough. Not even for the second that the words hung in the air did Rurik even consider believing them, people were selfish by nature, it was how they survived. Somehow he didn’t think that Enid would be in her most receptive state to thoughts like that now, so as she continued on to say it wasn’t her place he listened silently.

He might have missed what she had said next if not quite so focused on her, but as the half whispered admission came out Rurik managed to piece together what she stammered between reading her lips and the barely audible voice. The smile that came to his lips then was halfway between a triumphant grin and the smile you might expect on a parent watching a child take their first steps. Quickly Rurik tried to soften the edge on it so that Enid didn’t think she had done something to amuse him or that he was mocking her, but that didn’t dampen how he was feeling at all. Rather shakily on his sap addled legs Rurik stood and walked over to the fire, taking up several logs and dropping them into the already well fed flames, followed by the fireguard to stop the carpets of the room catching fire from the sparks. If his plan worked they might be gone for a while, and he didn’t want the fire burning out while they were away.

Next he made his way over to the door, stopping when his hand touched the handle and looked back over his shoulder. “Enid, I’m going for a walk. Outside. I’m not going to order you to come with me, neither am I ordering you to stay here.” With that he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, letting the light from the hallway outside spill into the room. Turning back to face her fully he looked, hoping to see that her head wasn't cast down. “You may come with me and walk outside if you like, you can stay here until I come back, or you can go back to your own room and go to sleep. The choice is yours”.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

She didn't see his smile, still staring forward at the floor. However she could feel his eyes on her as she sat there. Then he rose to his feet and went to the hearth. Was he not happy with the flames? They were already fairly high and crackling merrily. Perhaps he like it to be warmer in the room, more punishment. Very warily she turned her head to watch the man as he picked up the logs and deposited them into the flame. The fire eagerly licked at the logs and slowly they caught flame. What on earth was he doing? He even removed the guard. Was he trying to burn the place down? Not that it matter to her, it could all burn for all she cared.

Her eyes followed him as he walked to the door then stopped. Casting a look over his shoulder he would catch her staring at him. Neither the cold, wild, insanity she had shown a year prior nor the entirely blank mask. She was looking at him as if looking at a curiosity, like something she had never seen before. His words, too, were strange. He was forcing more choice on her. Too used to not making choices she didn't know what to do. Three choices, not just two but three! What was a girl to do? It was no lie, she had not been outside since the day she had been brought before Master Karstark. She wasn't allowed outside, few of the girls were. Could she get punished for this? Men did not make such things obvious if they wanted someone to stay put. He wanted her to go with him. Was it a trap? Was Master Karstark waiting outside for them? For this man to turn her over to him as he had done a year prior. Perhaps not personally but he still had a hand in all of it.

Very slowly, as if unsure of her legs she rose from the bed, her eyes back on the floor. Her arms wrapped around her front as though she was freezing or that they would protect her. Each step was a trial. Her place was serving, or naked in a man's bed, that had been made very clear to her. She was no lady of a house or even a high price courtesan. Despite her mind's objections her feet made it to his side, her eyes still downcast. Her mouth opened in an attempt to speak but only a small squeak came out and she shook her head, hunching her shoulders but remained at his side.

 

[Irlandais]

There was no trick behind his actions, no hidden snare waiting to catch the girl if she made the wrong choice. That didn’t stop the spark of pride when Enid made the decision that he had wanted her to and came to his side. It might not seem like much, but for a slave to be given any choice was unheard of. That suited Rurik just fine though as by now he had decided that indeed he would take up Karstark’s offer and take the girl with him, but as a free woman. There was no need to trouble her with that right now though, as it stood she had already had quite an odd day and adding to it would likely confuse her further.

The pace he set down the corridors and spiral stairs was slow, allowing Enid to keep up with him even with her gaze fixed on the ground as it was. How did the woman not bump into things all of the time? The walk down to the main entrance itself was more or less silent, partly to give Enid the silence she had no doubt become acclimatized to but also because there was remarkably little he could think to say for once. The two of them had come from very different words to begin with, and now even further removed their topics of conversation were very limited. Before they headed outside Rurik retrieved the cloak that he had had taken from him upon entering, but instead of draping it over his own shoulders he handed it over to Enid. The way her arms had crossed as if to ward off the cold didn’t escape notice, and if he didn’t miss his guess then her current clothing was cut to please the eyes of the beholder rather than for the warmth of those wearing it. It would probably be a little too long for her, but seeing as it hadn’t been raining there would be no harm done if it dragged on the ground a little behind her.

Outside the night was already dark, but the moon was full in a cloudless sky along with the blanket of stars providing enough light for a walk without a lamp. Deciding it was time for a little further push Rurik waited behind slightly and told Enid “I’m afraid I don’t know the manor grounds at all, if we go where I lead we shall end up lost” while this wasn’t quite true in the respect that he was competent enough to take a stroll without getting lost, Rurik wanted to see where Enid would lead given free rein, the reason he had specified no destination. With a gesture towards the door and a smile he waited to see if she would take the bait and allow herself to explore where she wanted to.

((Slight misunderstanding there, he put the fire guard back, didn’t take it away. Not crazy. In any case sorry this was slow, managed to get myself locked out of the house all day >.< will edit this out next time I post.))

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

The pace was slow and she was alright with that. He seemed to be taking his sweet time. What game was this man playing at? What did he want from her? She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, which wouldn't be far at all. In her year she had lost a good deal of weight, able to count her ribs. Her structure was still sound of course and the gown well hid the thinness. Designed to still give the illusion of the fully buxom girl who once had knocked down a soldier and stabbed his throat. She had tried that with her master once, but his girth was more than thrice her own. Still she kept her eyes down as they walked, managing quite well to not collide with anything and giving Rurik two feet of space.

The route they took was round about, but she assumed he did not wish to see the festivities or the people partaking in them. Once to the main door he paused to grab a cloaked. When he moved to her and handed her the cloak she held still for a moment. Another puzzled frown crossed her features. Since when did people care for the comfort of a slave? She didn't look at him but slowly reached out to the cloak as if concerned it would bite her. When it didn't, laying docile in her hands she swept it around and clasped it under her chin. Indeed it was greatly too long, nearly a foot trailed on the ground. Not to mention she had to repin it to keep it about her shoulders.

She followed him out though hesitated in the door way. Skiddish as an abused horse she actually raised her eyes some to look about. Was there anything suspicious in the night? Perhaps the Master was waiting, this all a trap. One foot moved backwards as though she was about to flee back inside. However nothing seemed to move in the darkness and the foot came back forward, the other followed until she stepped fully into the night air, clutching the cloak as a child clutches a blanket.

When Rurik spoke she jumped, her eyes back onto the ground, staring at the cobbled pavers at their feet. Was he trying to coax her to lead? "I...do not know the way either, m'lord." She said quietly, scuffing the ball of her foot on the hard stone. "I have not seen the sky in a year." However that did not seem to stop her feet from moving, off the preplanned track of the cobbles but into some grass. It was soft and tickled her feet as they made slow, unsure progress. The very corners of her lips twitched at the sensation as though a smile were trying to break through. The night air was sweet and she inhaled deeply. Autumn was coming and the autumn scents of falling leaves and the last growth of grass hung heavy.

Very slowly her head lifted and she looked up to the moon. Her pale brightness shined down, throwing pale light and shadows across the girl's wan face. For once in the time they had met her body relaxed. She was not coiled up ready to bolt or receive punishments. For the brief moment she had entirely forgotten there was company at herside as she stared up at the Lady Moon. "So...pretty..." she whispered, that little twitch at the corner of her mouth came once more.

(Ahhh my bad, lol, read that wrong. Happens to me a lot ^_^; But no worries about the wait, I have the fortune of having a door with a keypad lock so it's impossible to lock myself out...which is good because a number of times I have gone out to smoke and the sliding doors decided to lock on me, lol. Also you can leave the OOC chatter, It doesn't bother me any.)

 

[Irlandais]

The night air was a little cooler than Rurik had remembered, but the afterglow of whatever the sap had done to him seemed to be serving to keep him feeling warm even without his cloak. So as Enid led out he followed just a few steps behind giving her the sense of freedom from not having his presence lingering right by her side, not feeling the cold that was slowly burrowing under his skin.

As her head lifted and she started to look at the moon Rurik found a soft smile lighting his own mouth, far better that the girl looked at the sky than down at the floor constantly. With their first meeting marred by the blood on her face and now the constant downwards gaze he hadn’t had much time or reason to admire Enid’s looks. Now though as her mouth almost threatened to smile and with the soft glow of moonlight filtering down onto her pale skin Rurik found himself almost entranced, lost in the lines of her face rather than the night they had come to see. AS the two words slipped her lips he found that she had his unspoken agreement, although the subject they had in mind wasn’t quite matched. With a slight shake of his head Rurik’s thoughts snapped back to where they were supposed to be, on the situation the girl was in rather than her looks. “It’s the sap” he told himself, scattering his thoughts in every direction.

Deciding to be a little more like company than an escort he stepped forwards to beside Enid and let his own gaze slide up to the sky. The moon seemed to take up half the sky, as if he’d be able to reach it if he stood on tiptoes and stretched. “We see it every night, and even a child knows that during the day it hides… but not a one of us actually really knows what the moon is” he thought aloud “The priests will tell you it is the sun’s sister and we should thank her for the light she provides on dark nights, and the wise men with their telescopes will claim it to be a floating rock in the sky…” Seeing yet another opportunity to actually make Enid think for herself Rurik let his eyes fall again, turning to his company and asking “And you? What do you think the moon is?”

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

Enid was lost in the light of the moon. Though perhaps not full yet, she was waxing to the height of her glory. She heard rather than saw Rurik step closer, right beside her. For the small moment she glanced over to him, fully seeing the man. When he had commanded her to look at him she didn't take in any details of his face. Of course she remembered him, how could she forget the first one to show her what barbarians these people could be. He had been anything but kind. Though he had tried to warn her. In her fury and frustration she had not listened. It was only a moment before her head dropped back low, the fiery curls hiding her face once more.

He spoke to her. It was a simple conversation, one to be had when someone didn't know what else to say. Still she wondered what it was he wanted of her. It certainly couldn't be her company. She listened politely to these theories on what the moon was. Then he did it again, her asked her. She was silent for a time. Part of many wars was the issues of religion. His priests would say she was sister to the sun. But her ways were older, practiced often in secret in this realm. The kingdom his people had taken was one of the few places left that people openly practiced the older ways. Perhaps the ritual killings were taken down to the slaughter of animals rather than people, but still practiced. But they were destroyed, taken prisoner or killed.

"The moon is the goddess..." she said quietly. She had already risked a lot by coming outside with him. At this point, if it were a trick, her punishment would already be severe, what harm could it do to add more? "The sun her servant and husband...She governs the sun and the stars, bidding the sun light our way and make plants grow. The stars dance for her pleasure." The grew quiet again, scuffing the ball of her right foot on the grass. "What...do you think it is?" He had said what priests believed and wise men, but not himself.

 

[Irlandais]

As Enid explained her view he listened, both slightly perplexed by the odd notions in it and by the surety of herself when she spoke on this matter. Rurik couldn’t agree with what she said though, the concept of a goddess both loving and ruling and taking a husband at the same time wasn’t something he saw as possible. The girl herself should have known better than anyone that there was no interplay between command and love, she had shared the beds of enough men only giving the former. His judgement came in silence though, it was the first thing that he had heard Enid say with any assertion and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel foolish or belittle her beliefs. The opportunity to let the matter slide was lost though as she asked him his own views.

“I don’t believe in gods, or at least I don’t think they exist anymore. Perhaps at the begging of time when the world was born, and for however many thousands of years between now and then have passed they did live and they did rule over all that was life” Rurik paused and gave a shrug, for which there was likely little point as Enid was just as interested in the sky as she was the floor. Between her rapt attentions for the two of them it probably left little time for Rurik himself. “The world is round” he announced as if going off on a tangent “yet mountains climb higher than the ground around, and the seas fill holes that we can’t begin to explain the existence of”. His hand raised and pointed more for his own benefit than Enid’s to the largest of the countless craters visible on the moon’s surface. “It is a rock, whether it was your goddess who placed it there, or if it just floats as the scholars say. I believe that it is made of the land that was taken away to make room for the oceans, that the holes in it were reclaimed to make the mountains that hold up the sky”.

In the silence that hung after his words was almost palpable, for a while Rurik actually thought that the girl might challenge him or call him a fool for what he thought, but as downtrodden as she was and in such fear of displeasing those around her it was near impossible. Again he shrugged “But I’m just a man, I’ve never seen it up close and the working of gods are beyond my comprehension. Perhaps one day I shall buy one of these telescopes and take a look for myself. I might see the face of your goddess, or I might see the scaffolding that holds the rock in place” he added with a soft chuckle, knowing both to be equally impossible.

 

[Luana_Blodwyn]

Enid listened to his explanation, what he believed was the truth. If she was a different woman she might have scoffed at him. It was a strange notion, to be sure. However to an outsider her own belief would seem just as strange. For those who did not believe in Gods it sounded sensible enough. His kind did not seem to share the same songs and joys her own had once enjoyed. Strange how it was merely beliefs and ways of life that seperated the two, causing all out war. They were nearly the same: same skin tones, same hair colors, they even shared a common tongue. Though something had caused war between the kingdoms.

He finished his speech calling himself just a man. While he was right, they were all just mortals, there for such brief spans of time. The silence hung between them for a time save for the light rustling her foot made on the grass below them. She didn't know what made her speak and she didn't even pause long enough to consider her words. Though she spoke at her feet still. "I wonder, then, who exchanged the lands..." she said quietly. The suddenly flinched and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "I am...sorry...it is...it is not my place." She side stepped a little from Rurik. What was she thinking? Did she want punishment so badly? What madness had over taken her tongue? If possible her head bowed further as if she could hide from him behind the fiery curls that fell to her waist.

 

[Irlandais]

So far Rurik had avoided touching Enid case it just reminded her of how other men grabbed at her or touched without asking permission. In particular he now thought of Karstark and the way his pudgy fingers had gripped her to make her look up. So was he really any different in the way he reached forwards then and put a single finger lightly under her chin, coaxing her to lift her head and look up again? Enid might not mark a difference but Rurik himself did, it was a kind gesture meant to stop the self-abasement not something designed to take control of her own body away from her. The touch was light and if the girl truly didn’t want to raise her head Rurik was not going to force it, but if the girl really did insist on having no eye contact with anyone for the rest of her life Rurik did not know what to do with her.

How she had come to think that it wasn’t her place to have opinions or ask questions he didn’t know, and for both his sake and that of Karstark he hoped never to find out. With his voice set soft to let her know that he was in no way angry or disappointed Rurik explained the way he saw it “you always are in the place to have thoughts of your own, and to question other people”. There was no lie to this in his opinion, as a learned man the of not being able to think for himself was horrific. If he hadn’t been decided already there was no now question in his mind at all, Rurik was going to take the offer that the Lord of this manor had made and take to girl for himself… if she agreed to it. With a smile that he hoped she would see for once if she did let him tilt her head up Rurik agreed “Something or something must have moved it, yes. This idea isn’t something that many people share and we don’t understand everything about it. Maybe like you say it was the goddess or some god we don’t know.”With a sigh he decided that it might actually be time to stop changing the subject, to ask Enid what she wanted from her life.

“I don’t know everything that Karstark has made you do, or done to you over this last year. I’d rather not know right now to be honest, but it has turned you from a proud woman into a frightened little girl. Enid, I can take you away from this if you want me to, to somewhere where people won’t force you to do anything or beat you, or rape you. There is something you should know though, I don’t keep slaves. If you agree to come with me then the moment you step through that gate you are a free woman, you make your own choices, you think for yourself. Now it just so happens that I am in need of a valet back at my own home in the capital, if you want somewhere to live for a time you can come and work for me, or you can just go your own way and try and find work elsewhere. So I’m going to give you one last choice tonight, do you want to leave, or stay here?”

The words seemed to hang heavy in the air, even by his scribes standards it felt as if he had been talking for far too long. If Enid really did want a chances at a new life, a free life, then this was likely to be her best ever hope. If through fear or a misplaced sense of inertia she decided to stay Rurik would not force her to leave, but in her current state she would likely end up face down in the river before the end of winter.

((I knew Karstark sounded familiar... I just remembered where from xD))